The Path Unending (A Cultivation Quest)

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Our trip down the beaten path resumes some semblance of normalcy as we leave the ox and cart behind us. Clerk Ni spends his time and effort pouring over his maps and ledgers, stopping only to needle Zhuan Kun about the poor skills of his family's record keepers. The noble responds in kind as best he can. His own barbs are less cutting rejoinders and more solemn proclamations, but he gives it his all even as he splits his focus between the clerk and maintaining his vigilance.

Once, as we round a bend, Zhuan Kun pauses and falls back to ride beside me. His blunt question about my well-being is met by a shrug and a nod, and that is enough to send him back to the Clerk to defend against a fresh barb. To him, the matter is settled. I've said that I am fine, thus I am fine, and that is the end of it.

Daiyu, on the other hand, clearly isn't willing to take my word for it. She keeps Sunswift close to Quishu despite the stallion's displeasure. Where Zhuan Kun has his attention split equally between the Clerk and our surroundings, the majority of Daiyu's focus is placed squarely on me as she glances over, concern clear on her face.

She's right to worry. I am not fine.

Even as I try to focus on the path before Quishu, a thousand images in ethereal blue light play across my vision. Each new image makes my grip on Quishu's reins tighten as I struggle to stay in my saddle. As we turn around a corner, I nearly fall to the ground, and only Daiyu's hand on my shoulder keeps me mounted.

Finally, she can take it no further. "Zhi," she murmurs, voice low and urgent. "You aren't well. We should speak with the clerk. A few hours delay while you recenter yourself should be acceptable- and if it is not, I will have a word with him."

The barely restrained menace in her voice brings an unconscious smile to my face. Her willingness to do what she thinks must be done to take care of me is… well, it brings a warm feeling to my chest. Still, I shake my head and rest a hand on hers before she can ride off. "No," I answer, voice hoarse. "That shouldn't be… it won't help. I just… I just need to make sense of these visions!"

Daiyu studies my face for a long moment. "Then let's make sense of them," she answers. "Tell me… what do you see?"

"Honestly, nothing I saw through the Horizon seems special in any way," I answer haltingly. Putting my visions to words is unreasonably difficult, but I fight to do it anyway. What does it matter if I stumble over my words or make no sense? It's Daiyu. "It is all… well, it is all almost painfully mundane. I'm riding Quishu through a village. It's no different than any of the dozens we've already seen. That's all it is; it's just Quishu and I going through a village. Were I not seeing it through a veil of starlight, I'd think them to simply be memories."

"I… see," Daiyu says after a moment. "But if that's all it is, then why is your reaction so…"

She trails off, clearly struggling to find the right word. I chuckle and squeeze her hand, a spike of mirth shooting through me."It's fine," I interrupt. "I won't be offended, I promise."

A quick smile breaks through Daiyu's concerned mask and she leans over, bumping my shoulder with her own. "Fine. If you are truly only seeing such mundane things, then why are you taking it so poorly? I don't wish to presume, but I would guess you've experienced far worse before. Your own memories should be nothing compared to, say, those of the Astral Paragon."

I shake my head, the momentary respite vanishing beneath the renewed nausea in my gut. "No, no, those were… they were different," I manage to get out. "With the Paragon's memories, or with the vision I had of Kumi's day, or any of the other times something has played out in my mind, there has been a… a kind of separation. In the moment, I was there, I was in the vision, but afterwards? I was myself again. I knew that what I had just seen was wrong, was a vision, or at the very least happened to someone else."

"But these memories… they were mine. There's no separation. The person who rode though that village wasn't the Astral Paragon, it wasn't Kumi, it was me." I let out a long, ragged breath, and meet Daiyu's eyes. "And I don't remember any of it.."

It is a measure of how deep Daiyu's concern goes that she allows my mention of having other visions to go unremarked on. Instead she doesn't say anything at all. Perhaps she can't; what can one say to all of that after all? She just rides atop Sunswift, hand in mine as she is simply there for me.

Her grip tightens after a moment and I glance at her. Daiyu's eyes are closed and her breathing slow and smooth. It is almost as if… no, she really has fallen into her own breathing pattern. I squeeze her hand back and lean over as the anam within Daiyu's core starts to shift. "What are you doing?"

"These visions," she answers, voice tranquil and eyes still closed. "They started when you looked into the Horizon. If I can see them as well, then I can actually help figure out what's going on."

I pause for a moment before nodding. Though I don't wish the nausea rolling through my gut and the near panic of these 'memories' upon anyone, let alone Daiyu, she is right. The more eyes that behold the visions, the easier it will be to discern their meaning. Daiyu is the only one here who may be able to see what I've seen. No, since the Astral Paragon has fallen, she's the only person besides me who can look to the Horizon, meaning she is the only one in the whole of the Empire who may be able to help.

So I nod and squeeze her hand again. "Be careful," I murmur, voice low. "And focus on the technique. I'll ensure you stay mounted."

Daiyu's lips quirk into a small smile but her breathing remains unchanged. We ride in silence for a long moment as she marshals her anam. Energy builds in Daiyu before pulsing- and when her eyes open, they're full of stars.

A strange, unearthly pressure fills the air. Daiyu's head turns slowly as she surveys the world around us through the Twilight Horizon, the shining violet stars in her eyes slowly swirling in a circle. She almost turns her head in a full circle, much like the owlet that's currently sleeping in her belt sash would, before turning her attention to the stars.

A misstep from Sunswift almost jars Daiyu from her saddle, but she barely seems to notice. I rip my eyes from her and turn my focus to her steed, guiding it along next to Quishu while its mistress continues to survey the world. By the time Sunswift is under control and walking along without issue once more, Daiyu's pupils have shrunk to their usual size, leaving her in full control of her faculties once more.

I hand Sunswift's reins back to her. "Did you see anything?" I ask.

To my disappointment, she shakes her head. "I saw a great many things," she sighs wistfully, glancing up towards where the stars are hiding behind the sun. "But no visions like what you described."

I'm not surprised, yet I let out a mournful sigh anyway. "But why would I see them if you could not?" I murmur. "Was it the location? Perhaps it was something about the wagon that triggered the visions. It could be our core compositions… but you've Star Anam in your core. If anything, it should be working better for you…"

I shake my head again and force myself to stop contemplating what could have caused Daiyu and I to see different things when we looked through the Horizon. If I focus on that, I will focus on only that, and everything else will be forgotten. If I want to puzzle out the visions, I will have to ignore whatever caused Daiyu's use of the Horizon to fail and instead focus on the visions themselves.

As I return my focus to the spectral blue images dancing through my mind, it lingers on a series of visions involving children. At least, some of them seem to be children; a few are old enough that it's surprising they haven't been drafted to help till the fields or mind the livestock. But in my mind's eye, they aren't tasked with any of the many duties it takes to survive in a small village. They're simply running through the town, playing Artist.

…but they're not simply pretending to be Artists, or imagining what it would be like if they themselves had the Spark. They're pretending to be specific Artists, heroes from the stories they've no doubt grown up being told. I focus on the game, eyes narrowed as they scan the false memories.

I cannot say I'm familiar with the specific game they're playing. When I played Artist with my cousins, I never tried to be the grand hero or the conquering champion. I was content with my role as the Copper Mask to Cui's Autumn Bell, and neither of us ever wanted to play another game. The names the children were crying are unknown to me- for the most part.

One does seem familiar, though. I squeeze Daiyu's hand once more to draw her attention before asking, "Could you tell me about the Gossamer Blade?"

At her questioning look, I elaborate, explaining about the visions of the children and the Artists they pretended to be: the Gossamer Blade, the Mirrored Hand, and the Court of the Tide. "There was something about a Heretic-In-Silver as well," I continue. "I'm not certain any of it is truly important, but any detail I can recall should be investigated."

Daiyu nods slowly as she considers the names. "Uncle Tia made sure I was educated in the classics," she muses. "But the names have little to do with each other. Still, if it may help, I will-"

She pauses mid-word as a new presence makes itself known. Zhuan Kun has dropped back to ride beside us, a look of perfect innocence on his face. His eyes still scan our surroundings, but he has very deliberately ensured that he is pacing us perfectly. "Are you… is all well, Zhuan Kun?" Daiyu asks.

The noble's answer is a short, sure nod. "Certainly," he answers. "I simply thought I would get a better view of our rear from this position, and I was correct. But you may continue. I, too, would hear your tales, Mei Daiyu."

I glance at Zhuan Kun. Though his words are delivered in his usual businesslike tone, there is something in his posture that is almost… excited. A corner of my mouth quirks up unconsciously as I watch the noble practically vibrate in his saddle. "Do you enjoy the older stories, Zhuan Kun?" I ask.

"Enjoyment has little to do with it," he answers promptly. "Studying the wisdom left behind by our ancestors is a proven way to hone one's mind and view things in ways one would not have previously considered."

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to laugh at the excuses pouring from the noble's mouth. The words themselves are reasonable, but Zhuan Kun resembles nothing so much as a child trying to justify why he should eat sweets for three meals a day to his mother.

There are many words that can be used to describe the Zhuan scion. Regal is one that springs to mind. Handsome? That is without question. Refined and blunt also fit him like a well tailored robe. But this is the first time the noble has ever been adorable.

I watch his excitement for a moment longer before turning back to Daiyu. "Well," I say, fighting to keep a smile from my face. "If Daiyu has no objection, then maybe you'll be able to glean something important from her stories."
Daiyu looks as if she's struggling not to laugh, but she inclines her head gravely. "It would be my pleasure," she intones before straightening up once more. She pauses for a moment, glancing around at our surroundings and I do the same. Once it's clear we're not about to be attacked at any moment, she lets out a considering noise. "But where to start? The Court of Tides would be brief, but the Gossamer Blade is…"

She nods once, sharply. "The Gossamer Blade is a far more complete tale- or at least, this one of his tales is. You say the children mentioned the Mirrored Hand as well?" At my nod, she continues, one finger tapping a beat on her lip. "Their game is simple. They were playing Dusk and Dawn."
Daiyu pauses for a moment as she seems to search for the details she seeks. "This is a well-known tale," she starts. "We had a play based on it as well and it was always a crowd pleaser. It had a bit of everything- some drama, a bit of comedy, and exemplary fight scenes. We are not speaking of that version, though; we need only focus on what it was based on."

"The Duel of Dusk and Dawn took place lifetimes ago, back during the reign of the Emperor-In-Storms," she says. "It has humble roots for such a grand encounter. It is said that the Gossamer Blade and his companion, the Cinder Rain, were both trying to court the same lady, the Dove in the Willow. She made her choice, and to the Blade's surprise, she chose the Rain, charmed by his humility and passion as she was. The Gossamer Blade, of course, accepted her decision; he was an honorable man beyond reproach, and the Cinder Rain was his sworn brother."

Daiyu smiles and shakes her head. "But some of the Dove's other suitors were far less willing to accept defeat. One such man was the Mirrored Hand, one of the Cinder Rain's fiercest rivals. It is said that the Hand was barely interested in the Dove; he only sought her because he knew the Rain was courting her. When he was denied, his fury rendered him into a vengeful beast. He stood in the middle of town on the day of the wedding and demanded the Rain come to face him in a duel to the death."

"But the Gossamer Blade would not stand idle. The Rain was surely a match for the Hand, but such an unseemly display would ruin the wedding and displease the Dove in the Willow," Daiyu continues. Her voice has fallen into the cadence of a practiced storyteller, leaving Zhuan Kun and I sitting rapt in attention. "And so the Blade stepped forward, accepting the duel on the Rain's behalf. When the Rain and Dove left for their wedding night, the Blade and Hand remained behind."

Daiyu's voice lowers and she leans in slightly. "And so it was that when the sun began to set on the day of the Rain's wedding, steel was drawn, and the Gossamer Blade and Mirrored Hand met upon the field of battle."

"Theirs was a fierce duel," she breathes. "For hours, they fought, the sparks of their blades lighting the entire town. Yet not once did their blades find flesh. Not once was blood spilled. So evenly matched were they that the two fought until the first days of dawn rose over the horizon."

"From there…" Daiyu trails off, shaking her head. "From there, everything becomes far less clear. Some versions of the story claimed that the Hand was distracted by the light of the dawn, and the Gossamer Blade slew him where he stood. Others have the Mirrored Hand striking down the Blade and assuming his mantle out of respect for his vanquished foe. But…"

Daiyu chuckles, her laugh rich and warm. "...but the version I prefer had the two of them part as friends and equals. The respect between the two of them, forged in the crucible of combat, grew over the course of the night. When the Blade finally gained an advantage over the Hand, he could not bring himself to strike, for slaying the Hand would make the world a lesser place. The Hand was so moved by the gesture that he cast aside his moniker in favor of a new one, thus 'slaying' the Mirrored Hand and ending the duel."

"The truth likely lies somewhere in the middle," she concludes. "All we know to be true is that there was a duel between the Gossamer Blade and the Mirrored Hand, and that by the end of it, the Mirrored Hand was no more."

I cannot help but applaud softly, my fingers beating a quick beat on the back of Daiyu's hand. "An interesting story well told," I praise her, much to her flushed embarrassment. Zhuan Kun nods his agreement at my side. "Though I must ask- how does that connect to the Court of the Tides?"

Daiyu pauses. "I… it doesn't?" she answers. "The story of the Court of the Tides is a far different one, set many centuries earlier during the reign of the Emperor-In-Tides. The Gossamer Blade and the Mirrored Hand both came far, far after the Court was naught but a memory."
"But the children were playing both," I muse. "They truly have no connection?"

"None at all," Daiyu confirms. "Perhaps they were simply trying to mash two games together? I cannot count the number of times I've seen the young ones we've performed before playing, each pretending to be the lead from one play side by side with the lead from another. Even now, I would suspect there is a town where the Gossamer Blade is playing next to the Sentinel of the Sky and the Eye in the Dark."

The last is delivered so slyly that I nearly miss it. Zhuan Kun, however, does not. "The Eye in the Dark?" he parrots. "That is a tale I've not yet heard."

"Oh?" Daiyu answers. "That must be remedied, posthaste. It begins-"

I cough to interrupt her. "Perhaps later?" I ask, voice choked. "I… you still need to tell me the story of the Court of the Tides, after all."

The impish look on Daiyu's face tells me that she shall not be forgetting this nor let this opportunity go, yet she grudgingly gives me a nod. "Very well," she sighs. "But all tales must be told, Zhi… remember that."

Daiyu shakes her head, hiding the small smile that her own words inspired for a moment before straightening up once more. "Now, the Court of the Tides," she begins, her voice normal once more. "I've never performed a story of their exploits, nor have I seen anyone else stage one. They do exist, however. They are just… hard to find."

At my questioning look, Daiyu chuckles. "All that can be said for sure is that the Emperor-In-Tides reigned thrice. The first time, he faced an invasion of enemies from beyond the Emberflow Abyss. Their leader was a Warlord who, upon conquering Harmony, claimed it as his new seat and forced the Bureaucracy to crown him as the Emperor-In-Fear. Though he was seated only under force, he was still seated, and so his reign was recognized after he fell. Yet his reign was not a long one. The Emperor-In-Tides marshalled his strength and allies and was able to retake Harmony after mere months."

"The second time he was overthrown, it was by one of his own compatriots, later known as the Empress-In-Silver," Daiyu continues. She taps her finger to her lips once more in thought and glances at me. "We shall come back to her. The Emperor-In-Tides took the Dawnstone Seat once more after her fall, and reigned for decades unopposed before yielding the seat to his fourth nephew, who would be crowned Emperor-In-Ice."

Daiyu shakes her head. "Though the transition was peaceful, it was not pleasant. The Emperor-In-Tides levied some slight against the Emperor-In-Ice that he could not accept. The Emperor-In-Ice's vengeance was swift and thorough. With one stroke of a brush, he outlawed any depictions of his uncle, as well as any accounts glorifying him or even any references to his reign at all. Any and all records that could be collected were put to the torch."

With each word, my eyes grow wider. "That seems… perhaps a bit much," I answer slowly. "Is there any record of what the slight was?"

"Who can say? If it were recorded at all, it too was cast into the fire. If the insult was as great as the Emperor-In-Ice felt it was, then the last thing he would want would be for it to be known," Daiyu replies, shaking her head before continuing. "The purge of the Tides was overwhelmingly through. Soon, the only memorial to the Emperor-In-Tides remaining were belittling references in comedies that the Emperor-In-Ice enjoyed."

…that does not just sound like a bit much. It sounds petty at a scale I'd not known was possible. "But if the purges were so thorough, how do we know about the Emperor-In-Tides today?"

A cough from my other side pulls my attention to Zhuan Kun. "I have been educated on this topic," he states. "I will continue, if that is acceptable."

Daiyu looks at the noble for a long moment before the corner of her mouth starts to quirk upward. "Do you have a scroll on this subject as well?"

"I do not," comes his response. "One would be unneeded. My tutors were thorough in my education on the previous emperors, and composing a scroll for anything I am already aware of would be a waste of Yi Tai's valuable time."

My partner seems not to know how to take that, so instead she simply gestures for Zhuan Kun to continue. The noble nods and states, "Though the purges of the Emperor-In-Ice were thorough, they were not complete. Several relics of his predecessor were secreted away by loyalists, and were later rediscovered. Furthermore, the references that the Emperor-In-Ice allowed to remain were enough to draw the attention of several historians during the reign of the Emperor-In-Grass. Through their efforts, and with the recovered relics, a more complete picture was painted."

"But you are not interested in more general information," Zhuan Kun continues. "Your original query was related to the Court of the Tides. Though that was the common name of His court at the time, when spoken of in reference to the stories, it more commonly refers to a group of allies the Emperor gathered during his exile from the throne. Each was a powerful Artist, with the least of them having taken the Teacher's Step. But the most powerful was a warrior known at the time as the Pale Warden, who I believe to be relevant to another title you mentioned."

"The Pale Warden was once a soldier who made her name in the northern expanse, fighting in the never-ending siege surrounding Brilliance. She was dedicated and devoted to her task, and it is unknown how the Emperor-In-Tides managed to pry her from her post. Regardless, that is precisely what he did, and when he rode against the Emperor-In-Fear, the Pale Warden was his right hand."

There is no storytelling cadence in Zhuan Kun's voice. This is a mere recitation of facts, not a grand tale passed down through the ages. "Her core was forged of the moon and wind, and her power uniquely complemented the Emperor's own. The rest of the Court proved their worth by striking at the Emperor-In-Fear's army, but it was the Warden that accompanied the proper Emperor to strike at their leader directly."

"The Emperor-In-Fear was no match for their combined power," Zhuan Kun continues. "Their partnership did not end there, for she remained in Harmony after the Emperor-In-Tides was crowned once more. The Pale Warden grew to be known as the Emperor's strong right hand, and any words from her mouth were the same as his own. In time, they were believed to be almost interchangeable, with many suspecting the Pale Warden was the true power behind the throne."

The noble pauses for a moment, putting his thoughts in order. "It was this belief that encouraged the second usurpation of the Emperor-In-Tides. The Pale Warden came to believe that she was indeed the true, uncrowned ruler of the Empire, and that it need only be made official. She approached the Emperor and argued that it was only due to her strength that he was able to reclaim his seat."

Zhuan Kun stops abruptly and flicks his wrist. A satchel appears before him, but this one is not the familiar case carrying Yi Tai's collected wisdom. This one is older and far more ornate, with the scrolls themselves being works of art in their own right. He unfurls one and reads from it. "The direct quote, as recorded in the writings of historian Han Ri, is that the Pale Warden informed the Emperor that 'though the tides are mighty, it is the truth of this world that they only emerge from the sea because the moon wills it, and it is the truth of the moon that it must reign over all its light shines upon.'"

The words seem oddly familiar. Yet I'm not allowed to linger on them as Zhuan Kun continues his lesson, allowing the scroll to roll closed once more. "The Emperor responded in an appropriate manner, and their ensuing battle both destroyed the Green Wing of the Summer Palace and proved that the Pale Warden was indeed the stronger of the two. The Emperor was thought to be slain in the battle, and the Pale Warden crowned herself the Empress-In-Silver. Her reign was unchallenged, as most assumed she had been ruling for years, and mostly unremarkable."

Though his tone is still dry, Zhuan Kun's eyes are alight with excitement. "It came to an end a decade later. The Emperor revealed himself to still be alive, and now unfettered by the responsibilities of ruling, had been able to successfully take the Sage's Step. Together with the surviving members of the Court of Tides, the Empress-In-Silver was once more deposed."

From there, Zhuan Kun continues in greater detail, listing no end of minutia about the reign of the Empress-In-Silver and the safeguards the Emperor-In-Tides put in place to prevent a third usurpation. I listen to it all with half an ear. The rest of my focus is on my visions. That was all interesting, but how is it…

…wait.

The phrase 'the truth of the moon' does seem familiar. One of the children had yelled it as if unleashing some grand technique. Is there more to it than harsh words spat between once comrades? Or did the child simply hear it and deem it a suitable name for some fictional creation? And-

-and knowledge of the Emperor-In-Tides was purged by his son, the Emperor-In-Ice. Only recently were some records of his deeds uncovered and returned to the greater world. Zhuan Kun only knows as much as he does because he has access to the best tutors available to one of the Empire's most prominent families.

The children knowing the tale of the Gossamer Blade makes sense. His story is well known and well preserved. But knowledge of the Court of Tides and the 'truth of the moon'? That is a far rarer thing.

So how can children from a village so small it barely appears on maps know their story?
***
The thought consumes me for the rest of the ride along the path. It isn't until the loud shriek of children at play jars my focus that I'm able to think of anything else. By that point, the mudbrick houses of the village have already come into view. Clerk Ni crows in triumph and Zhuan Kun puffs up indignantly, but I barely pay them any mind.

I cannot tear my eyes away from the village. It… it's real. In the back of my mind, I had wondered if it was but a creation of the Twilight Horizon, or perhaps a side effect of the technique in conjunction with my other esoteric skills. But there it is, sitting proudly near the side of the cliff.

Clerk Ni either doesn't notice my stunned silence or more likely doesn't care. He leads us into the village without a second thought.

It may be relatively early in the day, but the village is already alive with activity. Half a dozen villagers loiter on the sides of the main path, each happily going about their routine. One is beating a small rug vigorously, ignoring the dust in the air as she chats with her neighbor as she spins thread. Another is above us all, laying on what must be his own roof as he takes in the sun.

The closer we get to the village square, the more… uncanny it feels. There is a war of thrown laundry being waged to one side. On the other, a group of children that seems entirely too familiar tumble from between the huts, brandishing sticks like swords at each other. Cows moo, a dog barks, and all around us are scenes of idyllic bliss. It is all so picturesque that it feels almost wrong.

But am I just thinking that because the visions have prejudiced me to feel that way? Is this truly a problem in my head? No, it cannot be- the faces of the villagers are all too familiar, some of whom loom large within the visions. My mind could not have conjured these faces from nowhere.

As I wrestle with everything, I keep one eye on the villagers, watching them like a hawk. And just as was the case in my visions, not a one seems to pay us any mind.

It isn't until we reach the village square that someone finally addresses us. One of the elders, perhaps the village headman, leans against the well at the center of town. He is old to the point that I cannot tell how many summers he has seen, only that he has witnessed many of them. His body is thick with muscle born from corralling livestock. HIs pate is bald, and his forehead furrowed as he studies us over a ladle of water. As we get closer, he lowers his drink and nods casually at us.

"You couriers?" he asks, hand raised in greeting.

The simplicity of the question stops our group short. Clerk Ni cannot seem to believe that no one recognizes his regalia, and sputtering noises cut their way from his throat. As he recovers, Sunswift takes a step forward, putting Daiyu at the head of our group. "No, honored elder," she greets him. "This is Clerk Ni Weiyan, representative of His Imperial Glory, Liu Jian the First, Emperor-In-Steel. We are here as part of His Grand Examination, searching for those who bear the spark."

The elder chews over her words as the cows he wrangles chew their cud. "Oh," he grunts. "Did you see any couriers on the road? I'm waiting for a letter from Twelve Fields. It should've been here days ago."

The elder's casual answer sends Clerk Ni reeling once more, a look of shocked confusion on his face. Daiyu maintains her friendly smile and answers, "No, we've not seen any couriers. But when we leave your village, we will be sure to keep a look out for them- though it would be easier for couriers to find you if your village was on any maps. Could we have the name of this village so we may have the bureaucracy update it?"

The elder mulls over her words before shrugging. "Last clerk who came through called it Shoubiao's Wake," he sighs. "That's good enough, I guess. No real need for names around these parts."

The longer the conversation goes, the more my brow furrows. This… this was not in my visions. Not entirely, at least. I remember the elder. I remember some of his words, yet not all of them. But still, this entire exchange is almost painfully familiar. Has it happened before- or are the visions just wrecking havoc on my mind?

Distracted as I am, I miss when Clerk Ni enlists the village elder in the Grand Examination, leaving Daiyu, Zhuan Kun and I to figure out our own duties. While the bureaucrat is turned away, my companions and I guide our steeds into a small clump, our voices too low for any outside our circle to hear us. "This is… not normal," Daiyu breathes out. "I cannot put my finger on it, but something strange is going on here, Zhi's visions notwithstanding."

Zhuan Kun nods sharply. "I will stand watch over the Clerk," he states, tone brooking no arguments. "If the oddities lurking in the shadows prove to be threats, they will find no easy prey here.."

Daiyu and I nod in agreement before I meet her gaze. "And I will handle the perimeter," I murmur, the words oddly familiar on my lips. "If whatever is happening is harmless, then it matters not which role we take. But if the Twilight Horizon is to be believed, then it would be better if I've more of a free hand to investigate it."

My companions accept my words as easily as Daiyu and I accepted Zhuan Kun's. The noble wheels his horse around to follow the clerk while Daiyu pauses only to squeeze my forearm once before following, leaving me to turn Quishu and head towards the outskirts of the village.

As I make my way down the small, winding side paths of the village, scene after scene of idyllic, picturesque rural life play out around me. Housewives gossip while beating dirt from their rugs. A broad man in the garb of a butcher haggles with a hunter for the catch of the day. Fishermen sit at the edge of the cliff, enjoying a view the envy of any as they reel in their catch. Stew bubbles over an open flame, its cook adding a seemingly never-ending parade of new ingredients with each passing moment.

Yet they are all slightly, subtly, wrong in ways I am not sure I can even fully observe. But none of them attract my attention like the woman sitting near the end of the path.

She is an older grandmother that looks much the same as every older grandmother. Her face is more wrinkle than face, her skin is worn and weathered from a life under the sun, and her fingers gnarled and twisted like old tree branches. It is those fingers that draw and keep my attention. Not the fingers themselves, though; my eyes are drawn by what she's doing.

As she sits on a small stool with her back to the fenced off pasture, they fly over fiber and thread, weaving together a scrap of cloth with such skill and surety that it makes my breath freeze in my lungs.

She does not have a loom, not even a shabby, portable one. Instead she has a frame made of wood and stone perched on her lap that she may have made herself. It is a rough contraption held together by what looks like twine and faith, yet the weaving does not suffer from the unpolished device. As I watch, dozens of threads are united into a seamless whole that could be the envy of any Seated clothier in even the largest of cities.

I watch in silent appreciation for a long, long moment. There are a dozen ways a weaver's work can suffer from an unpracticed hand. I should know; many substandard works have come from my own hand as I struggled to ape Father's effortless perfection. The tension of the thread can be uneven, leaving the final fabric to ripple and contort once tied off. The small tails of leftover thread can be left to dangle and be cut later, causing easy fraying. Threads in the warp can break beneath the weft resulting in weak spots in the fabric. Or one can mishandle the warp entirely, leaving-

-in short, there is no shortage of ways for a weaver's work to fail. But this grandmother has made none of those mistakes. Indeed, the fabric unspooling from her frame is as good as any I've ever seen… and I've seen Father at work.

His work is without peer, of course. Even without the advantages of being a Teacher, he has a style and an artistry all his own that none can compete with, let alone a simple weaver from a backwoods village like this one. But as far as raw technique? She approaches his talent.

That, more than anything else, sends a chill down my spine. Father has been honing his craft since he could walk.

How is a village grandmother approaching his skill?

As I watch, I consider her gnarled fingers- and I guide Quishu towards her.

Kong Zhi is approaching the weaving grandmother in Shoubiao's Wake in hopes of uncovering the village's mysteries. What tact does he take?
[] I will approach the grandmother as an appreciator of her craft and focus on her skill. By determining how she got so skilled, some light may be shed on what's going on here.
[] I will approach the grandmother as a guardian of His bureaucracy. She should be more forthcoming with someone in a position of authority.
[] I will approach the grandmother as a Caretaker approaches a contact. She's been sitting here for only the divine knows how long; she must have borne witness to something. It simply must be teased out with care and subtlety.
[] Write-In