George shifted in the chair. It was soft and supportive, nicer than what they had at the sect, which was the nicest stuff he'd ever even tangentially owned, but he still couldn't get comfortable. Though that was less the chair's fault and more to do with the circle of women he found himself sitting with.

He knew who Theresa Skycrest was. Anyone who had ever seen a newspaper knew who she was. The heroine of the Northern Peaks, who with her dashing husband had foiled some insurrectionist plot from the Laskarians two decades prior. Or, if his magehunter trainers were believed, an evil sorceress who answered to no one, and who had seduced the king and his best general, both now under her sway. Whichever story you believed, you had heard of the woman. She was intimidating enough on her own, but Madame Curson, the sharp-eyed Minister of Domestic Affairs was staring him down as well.

Some people wouldn't be intimidated by an old woman armed only with a few books and a clipboard. Those people had not had a frontierswoman for a grandmother. George had no illusions that the woman wasn't deadly. That she had the power to boot him out of the country wasn't lost on him either. He wouldn't have agreed to this meeting at all if not for the final participant. Laurel was beside him, perfectly at ease. She was doing her normal thing in formal meetings, where she somehow seemed both taller and more intimidating, despite not acting any different. It usually put him on edge but today he appreciated the shield between him and the others.

The tea was passed around and George murmured the correct thanks before drinking deeply. It was a native Meristan blend he didn't care for at all, but he drank it anyway. No need to remind the others he was foreign.

"Let's begin, yes?" Madam Curson asked in a clipped tone. The woman produced a piece of creamy white paper, filled with notes. "I asked you to bring your member for his particular insights, and am hoping we can leverage that for the good of the country."

Laurel nodded sagely, like this was an obvious choice and not fucking horrifying. "Our George is a model sect member. Diligent, hardworking, always willing to help the younger kids. Taking on jobs with the Hunters Guild to track down spirit beasts. We're very proud of him. Why don't you tell us why the palace has come calling."

George almost forgot to listen to the response, basking as he was in the glow of the phrase "we're very proud of him". It might have been the best thing he'd heard in years. Which was embarrassing in its own right. It was nice enough he didn't even bother freaking out that Laurel had been paying that much attention to his comings and goings. They had come a long way, and she had apologized, but the feeling of an unbending, iron grip around his throat was a hard thing to forget.

" –I'm sure." George brought his attention back to the discussion at hand. "Our understanding is that he was pressed into pseudo-military service by the Empire, and forced to do some… unpleasant work in that capacity."

Unpleasant work was not a euphemism he would have chosen. From the corner of his eyes he saw Laurel frown at the phrase as well. It was so easy for the others to forget, tucked safely away taking lessons, that Laurel had always been, first and foremost, a warrior. George didn't forget. But he also didn't want to cause waves so he just agreed with the woman when she spoke.

"Would you be willing to speak to a reporter about your experiences?"

Most of the discussion so far had been aimed at Laurel, so it took him a moment to realize the question was directed at him. "What do you mean? Why?"

"Our contacts in the Empire have revealed some rather concerning news about what is going on over there, in terms of magic. And they've been publicly making bold claims about the way they are handling cities and their 'protectors'. We would like to counter that narrative."

George was saved from trying to answer when Laurel cut in. "Can we have a minute?"

The others filed out, leaving them alone in the room with half drunk cups of tea.

"No!" burst out of him before he could stop it. "They won't take that lying down. The magehunters will come for me if I confirm where I am."

Laurel pursed her lips but didn't respond.

"You want me to do it, don't you?"

The sectmaster let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Personally? No, I don't. Like you said, it's extra danger and a spotlight you don't need. For the sect? Maybe. I hate to say it but we're stuck, and a favor of the palace could make the difference. This could build some good will we could leverage to advance the Core to the city. Of course, if everyone stopped fucking around and just got on board the way they should already be, you wouldn't need to get involved at all." She closed her eyes and leaned back. "I really don't know what's best here."

The fear that had been riding him since they entered the meeting came back in full force. If she didn't know, what chance did he have of figuring it out?

"I'm leaving this to you, George. We have some other things working for the Core cultivation, and it's not fair to put that on you. We're making progress, even if it's slower than I wanted. If you want to do the interview, do it. If not, I'll support you in that as well."

"Would you?" he finally interrupted Laurel's one-sided discussion.

There was a long moment before responding. "When I was your age, I would have done it without a doubt, and told anyone who came after me to fuck right off. A few years ago, I would have done the same thing. Not like I couldn't handle anything someone tries to throw at me. Now, I'm not sure. I know a lot more about what it is to lose something. But probably, yes. I spent a lifetime focusing on gaining enough power to be able to go anywhere and do anything. That's not a habit easily quelled."

"Can I think about it?"

"Probably. We'll get the contact address before we leave."

The others filed back in at some unseen signal, while George sank in to himself. Laurel made the necessary pleasantries, discussing the seemingly unending list of issues on Curson's list. He half paid attention, enough to hear some complaints about giving useful resources to a random restaurant. One river of extremely bitter tea later, it was time to leave.

"Thank you both for coming," Curson said. "I do hope you make the right choice. We are just so happy to celebrate those immigrants that embrace Merista and its culture."

George gulped but Laurel was less easily cowed.

"Laying it on a little thick there, he said he'd consider it. And I think fighting for the country is about as much 'embracing' as you could ask for."

Their escape complete, he was able to relax a fraction on the way back to the sect house. Laurel was still intimidating, but her ass-kicking aura was toned way down. He could walk next to her in the street without realizing she was anything other than a normal Verilian. It was a pleasant late summer day, and the markets were in full swing. Though, having spent years traipsing around the Laskarian interior, any summer he didn't feel like he was swimming through the air counted as a win.

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"The more Curson pushes, the more I want to tell you to screw it all and say no," she said, conversationally as they stopped to browse a fabric stall.

His head spun towards her so fast he could feel it in his neck. "Seriously?"

"I don't like them thinking they can strong-arm the sect." She sighed and paid for the wood-burning of, he looked closer, mating reindeer. "To hide in Martin's room," she explained. "But I don't want Sabrina to come berate me all day so I'm not saying that."

They walked a bit further, out of the market and back into regular traffic. "Take the time to think about it, but decide by the end of the week," she told him. "Trust me, any longer than that and you're just circling the same arguments. And I got the impression from Curson that it's urgent."

"Okay." Really what else could he say?

*********

"I don't get enough time to hang out up here," Laurel said. She was sitting on the edge of the highest balcony in the sect house, scratching the head of the shale drake that had its nest in the corner. After Laurel brought the first of the little beasts, another handful had found their way into the various nooks and crannies of the building, blending perfectly with the gray stone, and jumping out at unwary sect members who dared pass by while holding any sort of food.

Leander was in a much more reasonable position, with a healthy meter between him and the ledge. Cultivators could exercise caution when needed.

"Let's get to it then." She tossed a scrap off the ledge and watched the drake dive for it before twisting around and crossing her legs. Ending up with her back to the four story drop

At a gesture, he sat down across from her in a mirrored position. It took almost no prompting to drop into his internal mana flows and poke them into a faster state. When he was ready he came back out to find Laurel watching with a smile on her face. That made him sit up even straighter.

"Air offers the ultimate flexibility. From the gentle breeze that can carry a whisper but wouldn't bend a blade of grass, to a tornado that rips apart anything in its path. Air can be anything. And that makes it difficult to cultivate."

He narrowed his eyes, difficult things were often worth doing, and a cultivator didn't back down from such an obvious challenge.

"Exactly," she pointed at him. "The problem becomes, since air has so many different facets, it takes time to find out how you best connect to the element. With enough practice you could learn any of the techniques, but there are advantages to specializing. How do you envision air interacting with your own cultivation goals?"

Laurel waved her hand and a stream of glittering dust fell in the space between them. Before it could fade away, it split into multiple parts, each taking a different color, and recombining in patterns that morphed as he watched. With a start he realized it was timed with his own breath.

"I've told you much of this before. When I was a young cultivator, older than you but still a fresh initiate, the worst thing I could imagine was being stuck. Nailed down, trapped, whatever you call it. I saw my parents leading an ordinary life, working day in and day out, the occasional holiday to break the monotony. They were happy, but all I could see was the rest of my life laid out in front of me, exactly the same as theirs."

He watched the mana swirling in on itself. The colors shifting, changing, somehow holding the words Laurel was speaking aloud, as though they had weight and could be ferried along on a stream.

"I went and joined the sect. My parents were great people but that couldn't be my life. When I became an initiate, air was the first aspect I incorporated into my mana. It seemed obvious, what can never be trapped, can go anywhere in the world, maybe even beyond? Air. I incorporated the other aspects later, when I was more settled in wanting to become a warrior. That's another way to avoid ever being trapped, be stronger than whoever is doing the trapping.

"But that was my path, not yours. What worked for me isn't going to work for you. The basic techniques will be fine, but after that you will need to figure out how you understand air, and how you want to use that to further your own cultivation."

She clapped her hands, dispelling the light show and returning them to an ordinary rooftop.

"Practice time. You're cycling your mana, good. Feel the aspect, think of it as the flavor or texture, and how it resonates with what's around you. Take a few moments to just meditate on that."

Leander had been hanging off of every word, and hurried to follow the instructions. His mana had felt different since he absorbed the feather, that was easy to pick out. The consistency was the same but it still felt lighter, like it could move easier, and if he wasn't careful, it would leave his body and get out into the world.

"Good," Laurel's voice was quiet, letting him keep the meditation going at the same time. "Now it wants to touch the ambient mana around you, let some of it seep out of you and into the air."

That was easier said than done. He did his best but it felt like he was relaxing a muscle he had never knowingly clenched, or even noticed.

"Find some ambient mana and connect it with your own."

That was harder. Like trying to merge a river with a cloud, but he managed it.

"Last step. Your will is the most powerful force in the world. Command the air to move."

With everything he had, he pushed the mana. This was it. Real magic. At the same time he opened his eyes to see a few strands of Laurel's hair flutter gently.

He slumped forward, gasping for breath. His limbs felt exhausted, like he'd run a kilometer at a full sprint.

"Good. Now do that about ten thousand more times," Laurel said with a smile. "This guy will stand watch and help you out."

The shale drake was back, staring Leander down with its beady little eyes. He forced himself back into a proper meditation posture. If that was what it took to be a cultivator, that's what he would do.

"Oh, before I forget," Laurel said from the doorway. "You should consider sleeping out here sometimes, while the weather's still nice. Research has always been a bit inconclusive on how much that actually helps, but I found it a useful way to become one with the air when I was younger."

Then she was gone, leaving Leander staring at the shale drake and wondering how it felt about a temporary roommate.

***********

Laurel threw herself into one of three black velvet armchairs set around a small table. The rest of the space was filled with similar clusters, candles placed to give the illusion of privacy in the small islands of light, spreading the scent of secrets and teak around the room. Her companions watched in silence as she got situated and slumped backwards.

"That bad, huh?" Maria asked.

She waved them off. "Nothing major. Just a lot of angst. The kids are all very much in a 'finding themselves' phase. A lot of being the responsible adult the last few weeks."

Kat lit up a cigar and Laurel absently directed air mana to send the smoke towards a vent in the roof. A server appeared at the edge of their table, providing Laurel a glass of wine so dark red it almost looked black in the low light, while the two officers were handed tumblers of some amber liquor. After leaving a selection of snacks on the table, they melted back into the shadows, leaving the three of them to get back to their conversation.

"Tell me what you two have been up to instead," Laurel said.

"The usual," Kat demurred. "Flying here, flying there. Few fights. The kids are doing okay."

Not satisfied with that, Maria regaled the table with a tale of intrigue and adventure. They had been more active than Laurel realized. Even accounting for the dramatic flair most soldiers liked to add to their stories, the special forces, now including the army cultivators, had been busy in recent months. Jumping from town to town, ferrying guild members willing to work on Town Cores, and picking up some techniques along the way.

Fighting off the more dangerous spirit beasts, even another short trip to Jaranda via Lanport, as an escort for a diplomatic visit from Theresa. The bustling trade city had experienced its own beast wave, though the smaller size, better defensive structures, and the hard won lessons of the last few years let them weather the storm with few casualties. It was slower than Laurel would have liked, but Merista and its allies were realizing the importance of protecting, and leveraging, the magical resources around them.

It wasn't what she was most interested in though. "What about the kids? Trip, Reina, Reynard? The others? How's their cultivation going, and everything else?"

Both of the soldiers chose to take some of the snacks and drinks before sating Laurel's curiosity.

"Goin alright, from what I can tell," Kat finally answered. "The army is funding some lessons from Sabrina at your guild, along with some of the other stuff they need. Trip's been able to do some stuff with his plane, but looking to get more lessons later with your friend there that helped with the city's defense. Any word on that?"

"Not yet. Hopefully soon."

"You should drop in at the fort, if you're so curious," Maria said.

Laurel shrugged. "Mansfeln asked that we don't drop in too frequently, after those months he spent dealing with Martin. Forcefully. But maybe I can have them come visit. What's the protocol to invite soldiers for dinner."

They spent another half hour talking about nothing beyond the everyday detritus of their lives. Laurel soaked in as much as she could. So many of her conversations these days were about politics, or just decisions that would impact the entire sect. Basking in mundanity was a privilege she would appreciate as long as she could.

As the bells tolled the hour, a woman in a long black gown and severe makeup took the stage. "Welcome one and all. We are particularly proud of our show this evening, and I do hope you enjoy." A sly smile spread across her face. "As I see we are hosting officers from Fort Sarken this evening, the girls will be doing their very best to impress."

The woman went back behind a wall, to get the performers presumably, but Laurel was stuck on something else.

"Why does everyone always recognize you two?"

"When you're good you're good," Kat said, leaning back to get comfortable before the show.

The next hour was a flurry of feathers and heaving laughter, with the performers going out of their way to make it a night to remember. In the presence of the officers, Laurel was very much at the center, getting called out for jokes and the occasional bit of audience participation. She couldn't wait to take Martin when he got back. Though she suspected he might have already visited.

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