"One of everything, thanks love," Martin said, handing his menu over to their waiter.

"And a bottle of the Erturan red," Laurel tacked on.

"Ooh, yes. Make it two, leave one to breathe while we drink the first."

The waiter made his escape when it was clear Devon wouldn't be adding anything to the order. Not that there was much to add. It was a newer restaurant type, imported from Elgin, if the Annette's informants were to be believed. The menu consisted of small snack-size plates, meant to mix and match and share around the whole table. Those same rumors said the chef was on the fast track to a Kitchen membership. Martin was looking forward to judging for himself. He'd even saved it for a special occasion. It was a waste that they would have to talk about business for a while first, but those were the sacrifices he made for the good of the sect.

"Well it smells fancy enough. Any reason, or are my visits just the highlight of your year?" Devon said.

Laurel grinned. "You know we miss you so very much Devon. Really it's become almost unbearable. I think you should stay longer. And I should come visit after, for at least two months." She followed it up with an absurd fluttering of her eyelashes.

"I will ward the whole City of Harock against you."

Laurel's smile got even wider. "Do you think that will be enough?"

He looked to Martin for support. "You do this to yourself. Stop being so easy to get a reaction out of."

Their waiter reappeared and delivered their first round of dishes. Some sort of roasted spiced nut, a pickled fish salad on tiny pieces of toast, and a selection of cured spirit-beast meat. Three hands shot unerringly towards the last plate, each plucking the mana-rich pieces and popping them in before continuing the argument. Martin was impressed. Preserved spirit beast meat always took on unexpected flavors, but the chef had chosen a spice blend that complemented without overpowering.

"Fine. You can visit if you bring some more of this with you. Or better yet, send Adam. At least he can appreciate a good lecture."

"Torture your own sect members and leave ours out of it," Laurel sniped back. "Though I'm sure we can dig up a book on pedagogy if you need a refresher."

Devon bit down on one of the nuts with an audible crunch. "It's not torture. It's important foundational material. But no, all I get is whining. No one wants to learn the basics. They'd rather sprint ahead and cripple themselves."

Laurel's face spasmed as she tasted the fish. She deposited the rest of her half-eaten piece onto Martin's plate instead. Charming.

"I don't miss that phase. We have enough of a gradient now that they mostly regulate amongst themselves. But the first batch all thought they would be fighting off armies within the first few months. Poor Leander actually apologized to me for not mastering the techniques quickly enough."

"Is he still resisting the evolution?" Martin asked.

Seared beef topped with a salsa verde arrived while Laurel took a long drink of wine to avoid answering.

"Why, by the stars above, is he resisting an aspect evolution?" Devon's incredulity would have been funny if he and Laurel hadn't spent a whole season working out the answer.

"I'll tell you a little story. Our young Leander was wasting away on the streets, nowhere to use his talents, not knowing where his next meal will come from. He meets Adam, a loveable curmudgeon with a beard of gray and a heart of gold. Then, he joined the Eternal Archive, the greatest magical institution in the world."

"Just make your point, Martin."

"I'm getting there. All of a sudden Leander has food, and a safe place to sleep. Then he gets a way to speak and interact with the world, courtesy of his sectmaster Laurel. Whom he then watches destroy a massive sea monster. He decides he wants to be just like Laurel when he grows up."

"Gross, why?"

"Fuck off, Devon." Laurel sipped at her wine but was unbothered by the whole thing. Of course she wasn't. No matter what anyone said, it was fun being idolized. At least a little.

"Anyway, the kid thinks he wants to be a storm mage, but everything is pointing to a different path."

Devon leaned back and stroked his chin as though it was a long beard and not clean shaven. "Wisdom says you have to let him choose. Even if it's a dumb decision."

"We know that." Laurel grumbled. "It doesn't mean it's not frustrating to watch. I want to tear my hair out every time the kid talks about learning bladework. He hates it! I've at least gotten him to add a shield. It's a little better."

They were onto the second bottle of wine now and another round of food appeared. These were all different kinds of stew, with a steaming pile of flatbreads in the center to scoop and dip with.

"You have to hand it to him," Laurel continued, "it's still impressive. Even getting to the point where he could evolve his aspect in three years is an achievement."

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"Yes, the boy deserves some credit. I've a few I'm rather pleased with up at the Thousand Hands compound. Their understanding of physics and chemistry is leading them down some novel enchanting paths. I'm anticipating great things once they have a Crafting Hall of their own to practice in. But even their first works are pulling in a profit. The army commissioned a whole set of tools for their engineers, did I tell you?"

"Hmm, congratulations," Laurel said. "I think I saw a few of them. I was visiting the Crafting Hall the other day and I saw some of the ongoing projects. Annette is getting close to new spatial items."

The bragging only got more extreme from there. Laurel had never pretended she didn't have an ego, and after becoming Sectmaster she absolutely dripped pride whenever any of the students did anything. Devon was not one to back down from a challenge like that, and met her with tales of his own students and how each was a genius just waiting to blossom.

"Natalia's really come into her own with the garden, cultivating mana-infused plants from across the country without an issue."

"Joshua has taken to runework like he's been studying his entire life."

Martin could well imagine them going at it for hours. Luckily one could always count on the waitstaff of a classy restaurant to read the room. They were interrupted by the delivery of their dessert course. His dinner companions set the argument that wasn't an argument to the side to join him in enjoying mini souffles while they were still hot from the oven.

"Let's get to the real business before they bring out the port," Devon said when they moved onto the other dessert options.

"We want to have a tournament."

"No."

"We'll turn the sports area that we used for the City of Verilia festival and turn it into an Arena."

"No."

"And as our favorite master enchanter, we will need you to fill in the gaps we can't afford with our current mana levels."

"Absolutely not," Devon said, gesturing with his chocolate-coated spoon for emphasis. "That's a few weeks of work, probably a month, so that we can watch the kids play around. No, no, and no again."

"I know tournaments aren't your favorite –"

"Don't start with me Martin. It's a waste of time and resources."

Martin placed a stack of coins on the table instead of replying, and the three masters walked out into the street. Only a sliver of moon lit the sky, half hidden behind clouds. That didn't mean the City was dark. Many words could describe his best friend, but idle wasn't one of them. The mana pillars that allowed direct connection with the City Core also served as a series of street lights. The more affluent residents of a district had taken to placing glow stones as decorations on their houses and businesses. Verilia never went dark these days.

By unspoken agreement they started walking downhill. Laurel was smiling, the face of a woman who knew she had a hidden card ready to play, while Devon was listing all the reasons a tournament was a bad idea.

"--spies in the audience. You don't invite everyone and their mother to come take notes on your style when you might have to fight them later on."

"Tell him Laurel."

"Fine, I was enjoying the list though. Especially the diatribe about how tacky my aesthetics are."

"Tell me what?" Devon was looking back and forth between them, like a cat ready to pounce.

"The tournament will be good for the kids. I do believe that. But I agree with you on the timing."

"Then why bring it up at all?"

"Because the tournament's not really the point." Laurel did something to the wind then, to keep their voices from traveling. "We need a distraction, basically. A tournament is a good reason for us and our allies to leave their normal homes. And if a few take a roundabout route on the way back home, that will be harder to track."

"The recent intelligence reports say the Order is moving. Eddie up in the palace thinks we should bait them out. If we present a target they can't pass up, we can force them to play into our hands."

The trio walked in silence for a few minutes while Devon processed the information. "It's a stupid plan. Risky. We can't be everywhere at once."

"You're not wrong. But Verilia has the most advanced Core we have access to. I can feel it each day as we get closer to a Capital. It's going to be damn difficult to surprise me inside the City, which we're going to need to rely on."

"Still risky. Too risky. Our students aren't warriors. Some of yours may be good in a fight but mine are mostly just interested in learning."

"We're outnumbered. By a lot. Laskar was forcing its cultivators into a cohesive unit before they even knew City Cores existed. They aren't warriors, but that isn't going to matter in this fight."

There wasn't much more to say after that. They had almost reached the sect house when Laurel spoke again.

"Oh yeah. You'll like this Devon, a new natural treasure popped up the other day, right in the middle of the City."

"I thought you just said you couldn't be surprised!" Laurel cackled at the frustrated confusion on Devon's face. "And what do you mean a new natural treasure? You're a glorified librarian, you can look things up that you don't recognize."

"I mean new. Never before recorded, new. It's a mechanical aspect, we think."

"Name your price." Martin smirked at the rabid gleam in Devon's eyes.

"Sorry, buddy, no can do," he said, clapping Devon on the shoulder.

"What. The. Fuck. Explain. What else would you use it for?"

"You know Trip, pilot with an unhealthy obsession with his plane?"

"I think they all have that," Laurel added.

"Well this kid takes it further. They're still testing it but it looks like it lets him take a shortcut on a single-use overpowered enchantment."

"And you're just mentioning this now? We ate a whole dinner and you didn't think to bring it up?"

"Lot's to talk about, you know how it is. Slipped my mind."

"I'm remembering why I used to look forward to leaving the Eternal Archive after our visits."

Laurel was still giggling intermittently, but managed to rejoin the conversation. "You can get first dibs on the next one, if you do theAarena."

"Deal."

"Without complaining about it."

"I hate you both, but fine."

"That's the spirit. Now come inside and we'll break out the brandy. Oro sent us a bottle and they used mana in the still somehow. Not quite spirit wine but close."

**********

Laurel's eyes snapped open. She did not indulge in a full night's sleep very often, and getting woken up when she had intended to sleep til morning was not putting her in a good mood. But she got up and got dressed anyway. Some things couldn't be put off and hours mattered.

Arriving at the Core pedestal, she was alone except for Martin, who was looking through construction manuals on one of the couches. Laurel helped herself to a cup of tea from the magically-warmed pot before she dove into the connection to the Core.

The City had been fortunate with their beast waves since their first horde. Facing fewer but more specific monsters, or smaller groups that came one after the other instead of all at once were easy enough challenges for the army and the guild to handle.

The rest of Merista had struggled more. Most of the bigger population centers had gotten through without much problem, large army presence and a heads up from the local cultivators enough to prepare and muddle through. Losses happened but nothing catastrophic. It was in the areas with a more diffuse population that had more mixed results. The lower populations meant the waves were smaller, if they happened at all. Weaker monsters in smaller groups, at less frequent timelines. Roving members of the guild and the army, and independent cultivators who hadn't joined either group but still cared about their homes, had been doing their best. But bad luck could strike when Towns were undefended. Most could evacuate while the beasts went for the Core, but not all.

Now it was Verilia's turn again.

Reading the mana flows to get an idea of a horde was more art than science. Some of the truly ancient sectmasters had been able to tell specifics down to the type of monster to expect and the best mana aspects to counter them. Laurel wasn't there yet. Her readings could give a vague typology of the wave and a direction. But when she reached for that information now, it wouldn't come.

The wave felt reluctant. Absurd because beast waves were natural phenomena powered by the ebbing and flowing of mana throughout the universe. They did not have feelings. Except this one did. It was still far to the northeast, like a tidal wave out to sea, and it didn't want to come any closer.

If only it were that easy. Reluctant it may be, but Laurel felt the pull of the Core was stronger. It was coming. Slowly, under protest, but coming all the same.

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