Chapter 5

Lindon hit the rough board that served as the dummy's right arm, then its torso, then the head. The circle was unpowered, the target lifeless. If he fueled the training course, it would knock him over instantly, so he practiced on the dead version first. Once he got the routine down, he could try the real course.

The targets flickered with color when he struck them, as his madra passed through the correct spot. They would have stayed lit had the main circle been powered.

He stepped back, rubbing his knuckles. They didn't hurt, but they would have before his Iron body. It was a strange sensation, knowing that his hands should be scraped raw by the rough wood.

From further away, he examined the dummy again, as though watching it could help him somehow.

He just needed to be faster.

Each dummy had a different pattern of strikes and blocks, but he'd gone through all eighteen already, committing them to memory. His mind could keep up, and his body should be fast enough. But he still couldn't quite do it. Only an hour ago, he'd powered the circle again, and the dummy had still knocked him on his face.

The sun had long set, the barn lit by a single flickering candle that was starting to burn down. He could have used a scripted light, but it would have lasted for less time than a candle before needing to be powered again, and he wanted to conserve his madra.

It left the dummies bathed in shadow, lending them a sinister aspect. Only the brief flicker of a scripted light at each of his strikes dispelled the darkness.

Lindon moved forward, running through the three strikes again. He sped up this time, pushing his Iron body to the limit, and missed the third hit. The first two sent light rippling through their tiny runes, and the third remained dark.

He forced himself to slow down, breathe deep, and keep the power cycling steadily through his madra channels.

Cool air rushed in, and a door shut.

Yerin walked inside, only the silver blade over her shoulder and the red belt around her middle standing out against the shadows. “Training hard, or you have a grudge against wood people?”

Lindon hurriedly straightened himself, squaring his shoulders and smoothing his clothes. She'd seen him in worse states, but he didn't want to look like he’d exhausted himself against a bunch of wooden statues.

“Only working out a few things,” he said, leaning closer to one of the dummies as though trying to figure out its script.

She eyed him for a moment and then walked inside the circle, plopping down onto the ground. She leaned up against a dummy's support pole and sighed. “I'm the last one to tell you to stop working. Heaven's truth, I just got done with three hours of meditation cycling and two hours of technique practice. But even my master would say you need an easy day every once in a while.”

“I've stopped to cycle two or three times,” he said, but then he wondered if that were true. “Maybe it was four times. Or...six?” How long had he been here?

He glanced at the candle, which was a half-melted lump of wax in the middle of the circle. The woman who'd sold it to him had sworn it would burn all night. Perhaps it had.

A break couldn’t hurt, so he sat beneath the dummy next to her.

Without a word, she passed him a rag. He nodded his thanks, then began wiping the sweat from his head and neck.

“Trick to an Iron body,” Yerin said, “is to recognize when you're tired and when you're not. Gets harder to tell the difference. You'll pick it up after a while, but until you do, you're more than likely to run your feet down to the nubs.”

Lindon's eyelids did feel heavy, his arms ached, and his hands were cramped...but those sensations faded almost as quickly as they came. Madra trickled steadily from his core, called by his Bloodforged Iron body to heal his fatigue.

“Is that so?” He looked at his hands, feeling the tight ache in his knuckles drain away with his madra. “Incredible. I really can’t tell.”

“That’s how you run into more trouble than you can handle. If you ask me, you’ve got…” Something shivered through Lindon’s spirit, and he recognized the touch of her spiritual sense. “…well, that’s a puzzle and a half.”

He’d seen Yerin walk into battle with a smile on her face. Now, after scanning him, she was frowning and mumbling to herself, staring at his stomach.

Though he had just toweled off, sweat broke out over his skin again.

Lindon dove into his own soul, almost in a cycling trance, clutching at his core with both hands. “What’s wrong? What have I done? Did I cycle too much? Am I dying?”

“You’re about a thousand miles from dying,” she muttered. “As expected of an Underlord, I guess.”

“Eithan? Did Eithan do something to me?”

“He handed you that Iron body, true?” Lindon didn’t remember Eithan handing him anything, but he guessed it was true enough. “Unless I’m wide of the mark, it looks like it’s keeping you fresh. You could work your body until your core’s dry.”

Lindon had felt the same thing already, but he had assumed it was a function of the Iron body. “Pardon my ignorance, but isn’t that normal?”

“It’s normal for the Undying Lizards of the Bluefire Desert. I hear it’s normal for some plants.” She jabbed him lightly in the stomach. “People get tired sometimes.”

New possibilities bloomed in Lindon’s imagination, and he had to resist the urge to start taking notes. “As long as I restore my madra, I could keep training? How often should I stop and cycle, do you think?”

“Whoa there, rein it in. If you could work all day and night, you’d be fighting Eithan in a year, not one little Jai Long. The spirit needs rest just like your body does. You don’t want to strain your madra channels, I’ll tell you that one for free.”

She clasped her hands together and stretched them over her head. “You're an Iron, not a Remnant; you still need sleep. Food. Your spirit’s a weapon, and you've got to keep it clean and polished. But you don’t have to worry about pulling a muscle, or collapsing in a heap. I’d kill you for that, if I thought I could take it off your Remnant.”

Lindon chuckled uneasily, wiping his face with the towel again. So he could work for longer than most people, but not too long. What was the limit? How could he tell? It was easy to know when he was running out of madra, but what did strained madra channels feel like? How much more time was his Iron body buying him, exactly?

Lost in thought, he almost handed the sweaty rag back, but he caught himself at the last minute and tucked it inside his outer robe. He could wash it in the lake in the morning.

Lindon dipped his head in thanks and spoke carefully. “Gratitude. You’ve given me a lot to think about. But if you’ll allow me another question: what are my chances? With Jai Long? Do I have enough time?”

“You’ve got no time at all,” Yerin said immediately. “Sleep or no sleep, if Eithan doesn't have something planned for you, then you're dry leaves to the fire.”

The truth of that settled onto him, and Lindon couldn't think of anything to say.

Yerin scratched the side of her neck, and in the dim light, he thought he saw her flush. “I, uh...sorry. Didn't intend to say it like that.” She hesitated for another moment. “When I was Iron, my master didn't press me to fight a Highgold in a year's time. That's a rotten gamble, no matter what training he gives you.”

Yerin knew he couldn’t do it. That he was going to die in a year.

He stared at the dummy across the circle because he didn’t want to see the truth on her face.

“I’m not going to gamble,” he said quietly. “There are other ways to get to him, before the duel. He eats, he sleeps, just like anybody else. He has enemies. He has a family.”

Yerin’s Goldsign arched, as though the blade were trying to get a better look at Lindon’s face. “Dark plans for an Iron,” she said, voice dry. “You want to hold his crippled little sister hostage, do you think? You want to go to his enemies for help instead of Eithan?”

“I don’t know enough about him yet,” Lindon said, embarrassed. “You know, there’s always poison. Ambush.”

“There’s always poison,” she repeated. “Yeah. You could poison his food, then wait until he falls asleep. Put a different poison on your knives, so even if he wakes up, he can’t…”

She trailed off, blinking rapidly.

Her master. That was what the Jades of the Heaven’s Glory School had done to her master.

Lindon fell to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cool wooden floor. “I did not think. I—”

He glanced up and saw that she was holding up a hand for silence. She waited for a few seconds, visibly swallowing a few times, before she spoke. “They were dogs and cowards,” she said at last. “Don’t think like them. You don’t learn to stand against your enemies by crawling in the dirt.”

“As you say. I have no excuse.”

“You’re on the path now, stable and true. In a year, you won’t recognize yourself.”

He certainly couldn’t disagree with her now, not to her face, but he filed his plans away carefully in the back of his mind. Surely Eithan wouldn’t mind if he prepared for contingencies.

Lindon had just risen to his feet when the door slammed open, and Eithan marched in, carrying a lantern caging a burning star. It lit the barn like midday, making Lindon wince and shield his eyes.

Eithan saw them and paused, as though he'd just noticed them. “Oh, I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” Before they could respond, he added, “I was just being polite, I heard it all.”

Lindon was going to find it hard to relax over the next year, if Eithan listened to every word he ever spoke.

The Underlord walked over to the melted candle and kicked it aside, sending a puff of smoke into the air and chunks of wax tumbling across the floor. He set his lantern in its place at the center of the course, then turned to face them with hands on hips.

“I will be truthful with the two of you: I'm facing a bit of a crisis here.”

His demeanor was cheery as ever, but his smile had shrunk to nothing more than tightened lips. Maybe this was his serious face.

“We'll do whatever we can to help you, of course,” Lindon said, knowing that he could never help an Underlord do anything.

“You made a mess out of something,” Yerin said, her tone absolutely confident.

Eithan pointed to Lindon. “I will take you up on that offer, don't worry.” Lindon's heart sank.

Now Eithan pointed to Yerin. “That's an uncharitable way to put it, but I can’t say you’re wrong. You know, I do wish I could tell the future. There are sacred artists out there who can, to varying degrees. It would make planning so much easier. And I don't expect you to understand this, but seeing everything makes surprises so much worse. You always feel as though you should have seen them coming.”

He sighed, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “That's enough of my problems, so let’s talk about our problems. The Jai clan has all but declared war on our family.”

“All but?” Yerin repeated. “Is it war, or no war?”

“If they declared it openly, the Emperor’s forces would cripple the aggressor in a day. But the Skysworn stay out of the petty squabbles between clans. As long as the Jai pretend that’s what’s happening, the Emperor will stay clear.”

Lindon had seen similar situations back in Sacred Valley, as the Wei clashed along the border with the Li, and the Kazan raided them both. He saw the problem immediately.

“They’ll claim Jai Long.”

Eithan nodded to him. “He and his sister were exiled here so that they could serve the main family without being underfoot and embarrassing. Has to do with his wrapped-up face.” Eithan waved a hand vaguely around his own head. “They still won’t take him back, but once the duel is over, they can pretend he was one of them all along. He wins? They take credit. He dies? We killed a Jai Highgold, and they’ll use it as an excuse for open war.”

He sighed. “And I thought all I’d have to do was write a letter…”

There was an obvious solution here, but Lindon proposed it carefully. “Not to overstep my bounds, but the situation has changed. Couldn't you tell the Jai clan that you changed your mind?”

Eithan braced one foot on the star-filled lantern and leaned forward. “One's word is the currency of the powerful. Reputation and honor are all that prevent us from slaughtering each other, and keep us operating with some degree of civility. What stops an Underlord from killing everyone weaker? Their reputation. What shields their family from reprisals and attacks? Their reputation. Many experts value their good name more than their life.”

A dark pall settled over Lindon. Eithan wouldn’t change his mind about the duel, then. That had been one of Lindon’s final hopes.

“Besides, I still have a use for your victory,” he said. “Jai Long’s defeat will give me leverage, whether the clan claims him or not, so I would still prefer you fight. However, there is another option...” Lindon’s dead hope flickered to life again. “...I can allow you to leave the family. Your actions would not reflect on my word if you weren't a subject of the Arelius.”

Lindon turned to Yerin, who wore a troubled expression but said nothing. Would she come with him, if he left? She might, if he asked her, but would that be fair to her? He didn't know much about the Arelius family, but he knew they represented both a risk and an opportunity. Yerin could grow there, with the support of a well-connected clan.

For his part, anywhere outside of Sacred Valley was a land of limitless opportunity. The Fishers could advance him past Iron. He had other roads he could take.

But he'd be giving up the chance to be trained personally by an Underlord.

Eithan met his eyes, speaking earnestly. “I'll be as clear as I can: the Arelius family employs hundreds of thousands of people, and their livelihoods will be impacted by the results of this duel. If you stay, I will do whatever I have to so that you win. Even if it kills you.”

Lindon leaned against a wooden dummy for support. “Killing me…to win. I see. How likely is that to happen, exactly?”

Eithan's smile broadened. “It's my last resort. I have every confidence that I can raise you to victory without destroying your future. I can't say you will enjoy the process, though. And I will catch you every time you try and run away.”

Yerin still hadn't said anything since Eithan entered the room. She stood with one hand on her sword and one on the blood-red rope around her waist, as though considering her options.

“If you don't mind,” Lindon said, “I'd like some time to consider.”

Eithan straightened, brushing wrinkles out of his turquoise robe. “Perfectly understandable, but I'm afraid we're running short of time as it is. We're leaving at dawn. If you would like to join us, look around the Fisher territory for a tall building with blue clouds surrounding the foundation and Arelius banners hanging from the walls. That is our vehicle out of here, so if it's still there, so are we.”

He executed a small, shallow bow in Lindon's direction and then started to walk off. Over his shoulder, he called, “I don't like to make decisions for others, Lindon...but I hope to see you in the morning.”

The door swung shut behind him, but it fell into Yerin's hand. She hitched up her red belt as though to distract herself.

She still looked troubled, even as she spoke. “In the sacred arts, you don’t want the clear path. You want the rocky one. The strongest aren't the ones who climb the highest mountains, but the ones who choose to do it one-handed and blindfolded.”

She hesitated as though to add something else before shaking her head. “But it’s a short distance between ‘rocky’ and ‘looking for suicide.’ I don't know what you should do. I...I don't know.”

Then she left too.

***

Lindon blinked sleep from bleary eyes, sitting up on the barn floor. The touch of sunlight streaming through the wooden slats warmed him, bright and cheery. He started to cycle his sluggish madra, prodding his body into waking and his mind into thought.

Last night, he'd stayed up after Eithan left, trying to clear his mind and make the right decision. He'd known what the best answer was: to stick with the Arelius family. But that didn’t make the decision easier.

If he stayed, the Fishers could take him to Truegold.

Truegold. Would that really be his limit?

When he had walked among the Eight-Man Empire, Suriel had said that even ten thousand Gold sacred artists couldn't scratch their armor. How far above Truegold were they?

How far above them was Suriel?

He’d pulled Suriel’s marble out of his pocket, and the sight of the steady blue candle-flame inside the glass orb had made up his mind. He'd activated the course, matching his newfound determination against the eighteen animated wooden dummies.

When he joined Eithan and the Arelius family at dawn, he wanted to do it after squeezing out every second of practice he could. Maybe he could produce a miracle, defeat the course, and join Eithan and Yerin with pride.

The dummies had knocked him flat, but he'd gotten up again and again. Eventually he'd stopped to cycle, but meditation had turned to sleep...

Sunlight streamed in through the walls.

He jumped to his feet, the unfamiliar power of his Iron body launching him two feet in the air before he landed.

He was late.

He'd missed them.

Lindon stormed through the door, hoping against hope that they'd decided to wait a few hours for him.

The instant he opened a crack, air blasted him in the face, shoving the door all the way open and slamming it against the frame. The wind was almost strong enough to push him off his feet, Iron body or no, and the light was blinding.

He had to throw up his arm against the all-present light, which surrounded him as though he’d been tossed into the sun.

When his eyes finally adjusted and the gusts slowed for a moment, he squinted into the brightness and saw...not the dusty yard outside the barn. Not the collection of ramshackle buildings making up the Five Factions Alliance.

An endless ocean of sunlit clouds, stretching out beneath him.

Lindon shouted and fell backwards, kicking the door shut, trying to catch his breath. The barn was in the sky. In the heavens, maybe? Had Suriel grabbed this whole building and lifted it from the earth?

He grabbed the warm glass marble from his pocket and rubbed it between his hands to comfort himself. As his breath and mind settled, he started to notice details he hadn't before: the floor dipped and sagged beneath him, like he was lying on a boat drifting over a lake. Wind whistled through and around the barn.

Lindon leaned on a wooden dummy to prop himself up, catching his breath and staring at the door as though it might open and drag him out into open air.

Wood creaked, and he turned to see the back door swinging open. Eithan stuck his head in, smiling.

“A good morning to you!” he said cheerily. “Come join us for breakfast.”

Lindon took a deep breath before answering. “You didn’t leave me.” He closed his eyes and took another breath. “This one thanks you, honored Underlord.”

“I kept an eye on you after I left. I could tell you'd made up your mind, so when you didn't make it on time, I decided to drag you along.”

Following the Underlord, Lindon pushed open the back door of the flying barn. It swung open into bright lights and furious wind, but there was another door only a foot or two away. This door was painted dark blue, with a black crescent at eye level, and the frame was all white. The colors of the Arelius family.

Between him and the door was a stretch of dense blue cloud. To the left and right, he saw nothing but endless sky and white fluff. Beneath him, a soft blue carpet.

Lindon hesitated, but Eithan didn't. He was already striding across the cloud with full confidence, his steps pressing down as though he walked across a mattress.

It's a Thousand-Mile Cloud, Lindon reassured himself, just...bigger. Big enough to carry two buildings.

If he'd needed an illustration of the Arelius family’s wealth and power, this would do.

Eithan held the door for him as Lindon fought the wind to enter.

He stepped into a cozy sitting room, all decorated in Arelius colors. Dark blue chairs and couches were arranged into a half-circle around a fireplace of black metal. A spiral staircase led up to a second story, and a pair of tall, arched windows spilled sunlight into the whole space.

Through an open doorway against the other wall, Lindon saw into a second room, this one surrounded entirely in glass that looked out over the clouds. Cassias stood in the glass room over a podium that looked like the control panel for the training course. As Lindon watched, he spread his hand and injected a pulse of madra speckled with silver. Circles lit up one after another on the polished board.

The house veered to the right, cutting through the clouds like a ship through waves.

Yerin had her legs crossed on one fluffy chair, her hands on her knees and breathing measured. When Lindon crossed the doorway, she cracked her eyes open and gave him a little smile.

“Sharp decision,” she said.

“I fell asleep.”

Eithan hopped over the polished wooden counter that separated the rest of the room from a wall of brightly colored bottles, then started fixing himself a drink. “This is Sky's Mercy, the personal cloudship of the family's Patriarch. It serves us as a mobile base when we need to take our business outside of the usual territory.”

Cassias didn't turn from his controls, shouting over his shoulder to Lindon. “We stay as high as we can, for the sake of stealth. Sometimes we must fly lower, when there are dangers in the skies or the vital aura runs low. That’s when we risk being spotted.”

Lindon took a few more seconds to process the sea of gleaming clouds outside the windows. “The Cloud Hammer School spotted you, then?” They were the ones who had first spread the word of the Arelius family’s coming.

“I passed through a group of their disciples cycling up here,” Cassias responded. “I’m sure they intended no harm, but there's no such thing as a secret.”

The floor rose and dipped slowly, as though the cloud breathed beneath them. At the bar, Eithan was pouring two bottles into a third. He didn't spill a drop.

Lindon turned to the Underlord, imagination wrestling with the possibilities of flying buildings. “You lifted the entire barn off the ground?” If the family could build this, he could only imagine what other treasures they were hiding.

“I dropped quite a few scales for the Fisher to build that training facility,” Eithan said, flipping the bottles into the air and catching all three. “It would be a waste to just leave it behind. We had to expand the cloud base a bit, but it's well within acceptable limits.”

“Not well within,” Cassias responded, but Eithan pointed to the top of the staircase.

“And look who else came with us! Fisher Gesha, how are you feeling?”

A few hairs had come loose from the old woman's bun, her wrinkled face looked pale, and she rested heavily on the bannister, which was shaped like a serpentine dragon's head. She didn't look as though she had the strength to walk down the stairs, but she was standing on her drudge. The eight long spider legs dragged her down the stairs smoothly, as though she were gliding down.

“I apologize for showing you this sight, Underlord,” she panted. When she saw Lindon staring, a drop of acid entered her voice, and she snapped, “Can't stand boats, can I? I stay off the water, thank you very much, and sailing on the clouds is just the same as sailing anywhere. Hm? You have something to say?”

Lindon leaned closer to her, more concerned about her presence than her tone. “Fisher Gesha, did you...choose to come along?” He didn't want to say too much, because Cassias and Eithan could hear him perfectly well, but he could too-easily picture Eithan snatching up the Soulsmith on a whim.

She studied him for a moment, then reached up and patted his cheek. “I must look like a disaster, to have an Iron worry about me. No, the Underlord told me to think about it, didn’t he? Well, I did. I've lived my life among the Fishers, and it’s been a long life. It's about time I see the wider world, perhaps bring something back, hm? A little knowledge, perhaps.”

One of the spider legs reached up to poke Lindon in the stomach. “And I can't leave a half-grown cub to stumble around in the wild on its own, can I? No, I can't.”

Lindon’s throat tightened, and he blinked rapidly. She had stayed with him. He bowed as deeply as he could without going to his knees. “Thank you, Fisher Gesha.”

She stayed silent.

When he finally raised his head, she was gone.

One of the tall windows had swung open on its hinges, and Gesha dangled half-out with her head in the rushing wind. She retched, the spider legs stretched out as far as they would go to keep her tall enough to reach the window.

Eithan was sipping something from a shallow bowl. “It can take a few days to adjust, if you have a tender stomach,” he said. “But we'll have plenty of time together. It will take a month to reach our destination, which we will put to good use.”

Yerin woke from her cycling meditation again, cracking her eyes. “You finally bothering to teach us?”

Eithan hopped up to sit on the bar, taking another drink from his bowl. “The question is, are you ready for me to teach you?” He let that hang for a second as he took another sip, then added, “And the answer is no, you're not ready, so I'm going to spend this month trying to prepare you.”

He nodded to Yerin. “First, I'd like you to take turns on the training course. Yerin, you will try to beat your previous time...”

She rose from her seat, ready to try immediately.

“...using only your Goldsign.”

The bladed metal arm hanging over her shoulder twitched. She turned to stare at him in disbelief. “I'd have a better chance of clearing it with my bright smile and winning personality.”

Eithan turned to Lindon. “And Lindon—”

“Oy. Hey. Don't ignore me.”

“I at least expect you to clear all eighteen dummies after a month. Don't worry about your time, for now. While you’re working on that, you can bring your second core up to Iron, and brush up on your Soulsmithing. Fisher?”

Gesha leaned back inside, shutting the window with one hand and dabbing at her mouth with a cloth in the other. When she spoke, her voice had an extra rasp. “You should be able to identify all the properties of the seven basic aspects of Forged madra, as well as their combinations. I have the books with me.”

Yerin slapped the flat edge of her bladed Goldsign against the wooden bar. “You want me to fight with this thing? Why don't I just tie a knife to the end of a string and use that?”

Eithan studied her over the rim of his bowl. “You think, perhaps, that I don't know what it takes to reach Highgold?”

“No, that's not...” Yerin’s ears started turning red. “I'm the last one who would...”

“You think you know better than I do which exercises will allow you to integrate your Remnant's skills and abilities into your own? If your master left you a more complete training regimen for you to follow after Lowgold, then by all means use that.”

Yerin's ears had turned bright red. “I didn't aim to say that, Underlord.”

“Hmm.” He smiled. “You're young, and I'm unaccustomed to explaining myself. I'll try to be clearer in the future, but do as I tell you.”

She kept her eyes on the floor, tilted away from Lindon, but she nodded. “It's not so far apart from what my master used to have me do.”

“The only difference,” Eithan said, “is that you trusted him. Trust comes with time. And during that time, you will clear that course with your Goldsign or I’ll tie you to a string and drag you behind the house like a kite.”

She straightened and marched for the door.

Lindon started to follow her, but Eithan stopped him. “Before you do your morning cycling, take...” –he reached behind the bar with one hand, balancing his bowl in the other, and rummaged around in a drawer— “Aha! Take this.” Eithan tossed Lindon a pill the size of his knuckle. It was smooth, with swirls of blue and white mingled together. “Behold, the Four Corners Rotation Pill.”

Yerin stopped with her hand on the door.

“It's a pill to make your madra easier to cycle, and it should help you raise your second core to Iron fairly quickly.”

Lindon itched to write the name of the pill down in his notes. He had to record every step of his advancement in The Path of Twin Stars manual. Which brought him a moment of panic, as he realized he didn’t have his pack with him.

He let out a breath of relief as he spotted his pack—with the manual inside—leaning up against the wall. A polished wood-and-jade chest leaked wisps of red from the closed lid, so he assumed his Thousand-Mile Cloud was inside.

“Use the pill together with your parasite ring,” Eithan said, pouring himself another drink. “The effects should complement one another, so that it feels like cycling normally, but you'll see twice the benefit. By the time we land, I hope to be able to take you straight to Jade.”

Lindon cradled the pill in both hands as though it was his key into the heavens. It smelled like honey and rainy days, and the only thing stopping Lindon from popping it into his mouth was his desire not to waste a single second of its effect.

Yerin had already turned from the door to look at Eithan. “How far did that lighten your wallet, would you say?”

Eithan shrugged, but Cassias called back, “About five thousand scales, the way they measure them out here.”

Fisher Gesha's eyes bulged.

“Well, that's a gem and a half,” Yerin said. “You got one for me?”

Eithan waved that away. “It's just a fundamental training pill. Lindon will be taking one of these every day, but I have some more interesting supplements for you. Right now, your best advancement material is your master's Remnant.”

Yerin grimaced, but accepted it. She would have preferred a pill of her own, Lindon knew, but at least Eithan’s reasons were good ones.

Lindon could barely pry his eyes away from the Four Corners Rotation Pill. This was worth more than every year's end gift he'd ever gotten from his parents, and he was supposed to take one every day. Eithan was like an endless treasure box.

Cassias stepped away from his controls, walking out of the glass room and toward the Underlord. “I would urge you to remember what happened when you took over the training of our family Coppers.”

“Oh, that's nothing to worry about.”

Cassias turned to Lindon. “I personally rescued a girl who ran from his training into a place called the Thousand Beast Forest. She survived by hiding from two-headed bears. I found her crouched in a cave, dirty and bleeding, but she begged me to leave her rather than take her back to train.”

Lindon moved his gaze from the pill to Eithan and back. “That does seem…harsh. Perhaps she may have been pushed a little too hard, don’t you think?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t train my students like that anymore,” Eithan said, holding up a bottle to the light. “I was far too lenient before. After weeks of my training, that girl should have been fighting those bears. With her fists.”

Yerin shrugged and opened the door. The wind grabbed the tattered edges of her outer robe, making them trail behind her like smoke. Her red rope-belt, tied in a broad bow behind her, was untouched by the wind.

“If you don't feel like you're going to die when you're training, then you're doing it wrong,” she said, and stepped outside.

Cassias nodded to her back as though acknowledging the point, Eithan laughed, and Fisher Gesha gave an approving grunt.

Lindon swallowed his own misgivings, pushing aside the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was the attitude of the strong. He had to focus on that, and not on what he imagined Eithan’s training had done to the poor Copper girl.

Popping the blue-and-white pill in his mouth, he followed Yerin.