Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches


    It was nearing time for her pre-breakfast session with the students when Mars chuckled. “Anna finally got to the point.”


    “Oh, I don’t know what point that might be,” said Amdirlain innocently.


    “Was it your idea or Livia’s?”


    “It wasn’t mine. I think it was Hestia’s or Ebusuku’s idea,” advised Amdirlain. “They’ve not told you?”


    “I’m sure it will eventually come out. The only way Anna keeps a secret is through not talking,” said Mars. “Regardless of who invited Anna, I owe you for helping her.”


    “How? I’m not responsible for their invitation,” inquired Amdirlain.


    Mars ticked off points on his fingers. “Livia likely wouldn’t have gotten a Mantle without you. That’s even if you discount the possibility of her being dead with her Soul corrupted if a different Succubus was summoned. Ebusuku’s situation is obvious, and Hestia avoided the Gods’ War because she broke away from the rest of the Greek Pantheon over Apollo and Zeus hunting you. So, none of them would have been around and in a position to help without you acting as a catalyst for change. At least not in the way they are now, giving Anna another world full of life to love. That’s even without your advice to me.”


    “I just did what I thought was right, and Hestia and the others made their own choices,” refuted Amdirlain.


    Mars shrugged and casually scratched his beard. “I’m a simple soldier, but I know who to credit. You might get sick of having me drop around because I’m unsure how to repay you.”


    “Just help when you can,” advised Amdirlain.


    “Which I’m sure will end up with me owing you more,” laughed Mars. “You asked for help with an Eldritch critter. I had fun and gained a Mantle upon a new world. You gave me advice that you were concerned about sharing, and it brought Anna back from her silence.”


    “I counted myself fortunate that you were along—that Eldritch was perhaps a bit more than I should have been taking on alone,” argued Amdirlain. “The moment it proved that I was out of my league, you stepped in and ended it. As for the Mantle and Anna’s recovery, you invested the time, not me. I’m glad it worked out.”


    Mars’ mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed as if readying himself to argue. Then, suddenly, he grinned. “You hold training sessions. Would you mind if I stuck around and took part?”


    Helping train a deity?


    “I think your proficiency with weapons outstrips my own,” said Amdirlain cautiously.


    “And?” Mars questioned. “I’ll use an unfamiliar weapon to even things out or try out this unarmed style you teach here. I only know about wrestling and throwing punches, though I’m sure you can come up with some way to challenge me or benefit your education.”


    “Instead of taking part in the training I’m running, would you help me with an experiment?” asked Amdirlain, and she gestured to the blue barrier. “We likely should use the sparring area.”


    “What sort of experiment did you have in mind?”


    Amdirlain clicked her tongue while we considered the shift in Mars’ theme when he’d cut loose on the Eldritch. “You can change your strength by investing different amounts of energy into an Avatar, correct?”


    “Correct,” agreed Mars. “Though I keep my skills no matter the relative strength.”


    An option occurred to Amdirlain, and she grinned eagerly. “Are you injured if something happens to an Avatar?”


    “Only inconvenienced, as it takes time to form an Avatar,” advised Mars. “Stronger entities can form more of them and faster.”


    “And powerful primordials just pop them out at will,” sighed Amdirlain.


    Mars groaned and nodded. “Even the ones on the heavenly planes are scary and beyond my power. They’d be way beyond me even if I were a full deity.”


    “In what way do you find them scary?” asked Amdirlain. “Just because they’re stronger?”


    Mars paused and emptied his latest stein with a quick swig before he set the glass on a nearby side table. “For all my power, knowing that if my goals were at cross purposes with theirs, all my achievements could be ground into dust. Scary is an understatement.”


    “I’ve met one from the higher planes and two from the lower, but only the lower plane ones scared me,” said Amdirlain.


    “That could be because you’re not looking at the full lay of the land,” replied Mars. “Primordials think on a different timescale from humans. I understand you used to be Human in your last life.”


    “Yes,” nodded Amdirlain.


    Mars jabbed a thumb against his chest. “I’m a deity from a particular Human civilisation. We can find more common ground than I can say for older entities. Would I be wrong to say that a thousand years still seems like a long time?”


    “It does, yet I know how fast that can vanish for celestials,” hedged Amdirlain.


    “Yeah, even new celestials freshly manifested from a Domain’s Wellspring can be that way,” agreed Mars. “Those that come from a Soul’s transformation initially share a somewhat Mortal perspective on time. When dealing with any deity, the difference in their perspective matters, and any Primordial’s perspective is far different. They can say they like you and turn around and do something that seems to screw you over because they see it being helpful in a few thousand or million years. Whether that is helpful to you or their goals they’re unlikely to make clear.”


    “Yeah, I had an example of that,” admitted Amdirlain. “Though I think I can guess his purpose.”


    “If you can see what you think is one purpose, there are others. Never assume you know all of what they’re after,” insisted Mars. “Primordials have a few things in common: goals we’ll never know, a level of power we can’t understand, projects beyond our scope of comprehension, and timescales that see success in a million years as a quick outcome. Good is relative to their goals.”


    “Isn’t that the case with everyone?” asked Amdirlain.


    “Maybe, but sometimes it seems like we’re all pawns on the game board between thousands of primordials spread across the upper and lower planes,” Mars declared.


    Is this really what Ori intended after her family died in the games of gods? Though it’s Mars’ perspective, he hasn’t mentioned the aspects and concepts. Another example of incomplete knowledge potentially steering me wrong?


    Movement within the monastery caught Amdirlain’s attention, and she set her glass aside. “Want to try out a sparring partner? Kli is on her way, and you two have about an hour of playtime before the others arrive.”


    “Playtime?” snorted Mars.


    “Of course, because I can provide the best toys,” laughed Amdirlain. After adjusting experience allocation to Fallen alone, she started creating and retrieving what she needed.


    ? ? ? ? ? ?


    Amdirlain watched on as three figures moved across the rubble-strewn floor behind the blue barrier. Two were on their feet while a third dug clawed gauntlets into the ground. She caught Klipyl’s arrival in the doorway but only casually waved without turning her attention.


    A three-metre-tall mithril construct chopped downwards with any overhead axe blow, and Mars caught the attack on his angled shield. Sparks sprayed away a moment before the edge jammed into the ground. As the construct tried to pull it free, Mars’ gladius pierced its elbow and twisted; the lower half of the limb flopped loose, and the weapon clattered on the ground. Mars sidestepped, following its exposed side, and drove repeated strikes into its upper thigh and hip as the construct awkwardly tried to use its shield as a weapon. A crack from its internal structure resounded through the hall, and Mars shoved his shield forward, overbalancing his latest foe.


    The last construct continued to drag itself towards Mars, only for him to land atop it and crush its spinal column and the mechanisms within its torso in a single stomp.


    Klipyl sauntered to where Amdirlain stood near one of the platform’s supports. “Isn’t that Mars?”


    More gleaming constructs shaped after Roman legionaries appeared within the barrier and spread out as they approached him, spears at the ready and their shields braced against his attacks.


    Amdirlain nodded. “He’s helping with my experiments. Do you want a set of constructs to play with?”


    “He got to play first?” pouted Klipyl playfully.


    “Yea or nay, the others will be along soon,” prompted Amdirlain, ignoring Klipyl’s act.


    “How are these different from those in the tower?” asked Klipyl. “Besides being stronger.”


    Amdirlain tilted her head to one side, directing Klipyl’s attention to what appeared to be a narrow pane of goo squeezed between glass. “They’re connected to slimes, who’ll continue to improve their skills. They can’t feel pain from the constructs, so you don’t need to worry about that.”


    Klipyl squealed happily and reappeared in the second sparring chamber, whose barrier also blocked spells. Amdirlain released two previously prepared constructs from storage and put them into the sparring areas. While the two of them played, Amdirlain continued to build an army of mithril-composite constructs, setting them in racks on the far side of the hall.


    ? ? ? ? ? ?


    Amdirlain greeted Jinfeng with a respectful nod. “Good morning, Jinfeng. I’m pleased you and your students attended again.”


    “Sifu,” intoned Jinfeng, chorused by her students, who bowed together. Their attention remained directed towards Amdirlain, and none dared glance at the foes being hounded by Mars.


    “Spread out in the same fashion as yesterday, and we’ll begin shortly,” instructed Amdirlain before she turned her attention to her additional guest.


    Head Clerk Erhi had followed the procession into the hall and looked around, her eyes bulging in disbelief, beaded braids swayed with her rapid head movements from trying to take in the sights.


    So unlike her normal composure.


    “Head Clerk Erhi,” greeted Amdirlain. “I’m surprised you came to see me. I’d planned to come by the duty pavilion later today.”


    “Lady Am,” returned Erhi; giving a deep bow, she offered Amdirlain a sheet of paper. “I have a tentative schedule for the groups. Master Cyrus advised me yesterday that you have a busy training schedule after today. Can you deal with the affinities in an evening session?”


    Amdirlain took the sheet from her and looked over the details. Erhi’s public thoughts were loud enough to answer all Amdirlain’s questions.


    “If after dinner in two days suits people, that’s fine with me,” acknowledged Amdirlain as she double-checked the paper. “I apologise if this has caused any issues for you.”


    “Nothing compared to the benefits,” reassured Erhi. “It has removed some long-standing requests, and your approach simplified the work involved. We may need some follow-up sessions for those who can’t attend that evening session, but we’ll be able to provide more notice for the scheduling.”


    “That’s fine,” Amdirlain accepted, “I expect some students are currently away from the monastery on requests.”


    Erhi nodded quickly. “That is correct. Might I observe this training session with Master Lu’s students?”


    “Of course, you’re free to watch or join in,” replied Amdirlain. “There are refreshment trays on the upper platforms. Touch them, and they’ll provide whatever food or drink you desire.”


    “This isn’t just for her students?” queried Erhi quietly.


    Amdirlain smiled. “It’s for her students, and any Master Lu deems will focus properly.”


    “I doubt I’m proficient enough to warrant your time,” murmured Erhi.


    “We all start somewhere. If you change your mind, whether today or another, follow along as best you can, and I’ll provide guidance,” responded Amdirlain, moving out in front of the students to start the first exercises.


    Erhi briefly hesitated before she climbed the stairs to watch from above.


    Though Amdirlain mixed up the warm-up and initial exercises, the session ran the same as the previous training. As the time for the combat drills approached, the students started getting keyed up, so Amdirlain stopped and switched over early.


    “Pick a partner,” instructed Amdirlain. “The purpose of today’s exercises is to adapt to a partner and have each other’s back.”


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Amdirlain caught Klipyl’s lips twitch mischievously but didn’t risk asking what she’d found amusing.


    Likely, it’s safer not to know.


    When they had grouped up, Amdirlain started with projected images of goblins and kobolds, their quick attacks keeping the younger students on their toes. As the younger ones worked to handle the first encounters of her strange VR, Amdirlain quickly escalated the encounters she provided for the senior students and Jinfeng.


    ‘Keep up the song for the constructs, Amdirlain,’ insisted Gilorn. ‘If you’re to provide opponents to train Celestial armies, you’ll need untold trillions. I’ll shift the excess away, so you focus on their construction.’


    Throughout the training session, Mars continued to destroy constructs despite their steadily improving skills. The constructs weren’t the only ones improving—through her mental touch on the student’s minds, she’d felt insights large and small flare to life during the training. When the combat session ended, a few students almost slumped to the ground; only pride and Master Lu’s presence gave them the strength to kneel instead.


    “You’re all welcome to use the trays on the viewing platform to eat breakfast,” advised Amdirlain. “You’ll find the seats’ enchantments handle cleaning the perspiration from your clothing.”


    She was about to say more when Amdirlain caught Sarah’s arrival at the monastery’s fields. The distress and worry that coloured her theme prompted Amdirlain to add more filtering to Resonance.


    “Once again, you’ve provided a very insightful experience, Sifu,” Jinfeng declared. “I hope you continue to live at the monastery for many years to come so that the martial pavilion’s students might benefit.”


    “Others beside the martial pavilion are free to come along if you believe they’d focus properly,” replied Amdirlain. “The only criteria is that they need to convince you, not what pavilion they’re involved with.”


    “Do you have a limit on the number you can teach in such a way?”


    “A few thousand,“ mused Amdirlain. “Which will make getting them in the hall time-consuming. if you believe many would be interested, I’ll sort something out to speed attendance.”


    “Word of your training approach and feedback has already spread,” advised Jinfeng. “I think that might be part of why Erhi came along.”


    “She heard about the training being conducted but not the training hall?” questioned Amdirlain.


    Jinfeng smiled. “No one believed us that your training hall was so expansive.”


    “They just had size envy,” laughed Klipyl. “Silly, silly, they even asked me, and I confirmed you’d made a big playpen.”


    A crash from the sparring area signalled the latest construct demise before Mars stepped clear of it.


    With the mound of parts within to repair, Amdirlain ended her construction project’s melody and resembled the mangled constructs.


    [Crafting Summary (Category: Constructs)


    Mithril-composite Construct x239,237


    Total Experience gained: 23,923,700,000


    Fallen: +23,923,700,000]


    That was more experience than I once thought possible, yet it didn’t get me a single level.


    Amdirlain updated each of the students’ memory crystals and motioned them towards the stairs. “Please eat and take a chance to rest. I know many of you have a day full of lessons ahead.”


    Those words were enough to make the younger students slightly disregard decorum, and they hurried to the platforms above.


    “That was marvellous fun, Am,” declared Mars. “I hope I’ve not made too much work for you.”


    The pieces started to hover and float together as Amdirlain’s melodies reformed each construct.


    “Those controlling the constructs learnt a lot,” replied Amdirlain. “Repair work is easy enough, though I only get experience from their original construction.”


    “I saw rows of them appear and disappear. What do you have in mind for them?”


    “If you’re interested, I plan to help celestials gain real combat experience,” explained Amdirlain. “I had primarily intended it to help Ebusuku’s legions out, but I suppose I could also help your troops.”


    “It would be different from sparring, where they hold back against each other,” admitted Mars. “Would the constructs give them experience as well?”


    “Yes, but the constructs are dangerous enough to kill if they don’t take it seriously and they’ll get stronger,” clarified Amdirlain. “I’ll tag the slimes involved in any deaths and ensure they’re not released without providing permission to release any slain Celestial from their Planar Lock.”


    “Interesting,” murmured Mars. “What other ideas have you got for strengthening troops?”


    “Who me?” asked Amdirlain innocently.


    Mars shook his head. “The mock innocent act won’t work. I’ve heard enough tales to know you never have just one plan going on, Am.”


    “I do have other things in the works, but they’re still too early in the development phase,” explained Amdirlain. “For example, those constructs should have been able to put up a better fight. The issue is that while the material allows me to get them to emulate classes at certain strengths, I need the entities controlling them at equivalent strength and Skill levels. Without that, the potential of the construct goes unrealised.”


    “What effective level were they?”


    “Combined levels? About sixty, thirty from the general construct and thirty levels in fighter,” detailed Amdirlain. “Even the general construct strength should have rated in at over level one hundred, but the slimes controlling them couldn’t utilise their full strength.”


    The students proceeded upstairs, and Klipyl joined the conversations. “I preferred training against the images you projected, as they were smooth and pushed me, while the constructs were big and butch and oh so clumsy. It was weird they felt more dangerous than the ones in the tower but, aside from their sturdiness, they were easier to take down.”


    “I might need to tweak the controls and how they link to the slimes, but it could just be a matter of practice for them,” sighed Amdirlain.


    “I’ll go hassle Sarah and see if she’ll teach me about being a blacksmith,”


    Mars looked Klipyl over. “You don’t look like a blacksmith.”


    “What, you don’t believe I can mould iron and shape someone’s shaft?” Klipyl huffed playfully. She grasped a thumb in her other hand and moved it back and forth.


    “I’m married, young Celestial,” declared Mars.


    Klipyl rolled her eyes. “Everyone assumes I’m into poaching. It’s just that I’ve got a holy sense of humour.”


    “I’d rate your humour more earthy, despite how many holes tend to get involved,” drawled Amdirlain, and she deliberately changed the subject. “You’ve no braids this morning, Kli.”


    “I had a different lover last night,” sighed Klipyl. “They weren’t enough of an early riser, so I am out of luck for braids. Maybe you should send your slimes and their constructs through your demi-planes to learn to fight monsters.”


    “That might be workable,” murmured Amdirlain, plotting out suitable foes and what ‘healing’ options the constructs would need to avoid continual repairs from her.


    “Demi-planes?” inquired Mars.


    “It’s a small project that’s very much in development still,” said Amdirlain casually. “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from something?”


    Mars’ weapons and shield vanished, and he stood at ease.


    “I think that’s a no,” whispered Klipyl.


    “Sarah’s in her forge,” reminded Amdirlain.


    “You’re shooing me off because you can’t get rid of him,” sulked Klipyl.


    Amdirlain grinned and reached out to cup Klipyl’s cheeks. “Yes, now go on.”


    With a little huff, Klipyl stepped closer and hugged Amdirlain. “Cuddle first.”


    Despite being too aware of the line of Klipyl’s body pressed against hers, Amdirlain did just that and felt a knot of tension slip away.


    “Your gaze is hard and cold this morning,” Klipyl murmured. “Do you need anyone dead?”


    Only my insecurities.


    “It’s fine, I’m working on my issues,” Amdirlain replied softly, not letting Klipyl go.


    “Self-reflection is hard work,” whispered Klipyl. “Much easier to smash something in the face, whether you use your fist or pussy.”


    Amdirlain snorted and lightly swatted her bum.


    “Oh baby, yes,” squealed Klipyl.


    “Get a move on you,” huffed Amdirlain insistently.


    “Lots of people want to get on with me, and off on me,” laughed Klipyl, and she dashed for the door with a giggle.


    “She’s an unusual Celestial,” grumbled Mars. “Even Cupid’s angels didn’t behave in that fashion.”


    “It’s her choice, though half the time, I think she carries on to challenge people’s expectations,” replied Amdirlain. “The other half I know she’s enjoying the sex.”


    Mars grinned. “I’ve got some elves that could do with a Goddess of Fertility.”


    “Don’t steal Kli from me without her permission,” instructed Amdirlain. “Ebusuku pulled that trick on Sarah, and breaking free of the Mantle injured her.”


    “Something I know that Ebusuku regrets,” responded Mars. “It was a new opportunity for Sarah and I wonder how much the Mantle might have nudged the choice.”


    “Let’s talk about something else. Your situation with the elves—stable food supplies should help the populations grow,” replied Amdirlain. “If you’re worried about the local fertility rate, I can investigate and maybe help.”


    “It’s more that I’m worried they’ll be overwhelmed by monsters without a higher population base,” replied Mars. “What help can you provide, though?”


    “You’re not aware of the situation of the elves on Veht??”


    Mars frowned in confusion. “What situation?”


    “I guess it’s not something that’s been shared, so I’ll leave it there,” said Amdirlain. “I’ll look into the situation with the elves you’ve attracted and see if their population is increasing or declining.”


    “That would be appreciated,” Mars replied. “Yet more help you’re giving me.”


    “I’m not a transactional person,” said Amdirlain. “I don’t see it as another’s win representing my loss. If someone needs help and I can lend a hand, I will, and maybe I’ll learn something while helping. If not, maybe I’ll improve the realm in the process.”


    “Like all the academies you and Ebusuku have set up,”


    “I set up one in Xaos. Ebusuku hadn’t mentioned any of hers to me,” replied Amdirlain.


    “I understand it started with the one in Eyrarháls, but I’ve heard her celestials talking about others on different worlds,” advised Mars.


    Ebusuku didn’t tell me about them. She had faith on enough worlds to compress the Mantle into a divine spark. I should consider how much effort was involved in achieving that result. I know the theory from Ori’s perspective, but she never considered the effort involved in it from someone else’s perspective. It was enough that it was possible to achieve it; you had to work to accomplish the rest.


    “I’m not very good at letting people in,” admitted Amdirlain. “You could spend a lot of time hanging around here for no reason.”


    Mars jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the sparring area. “You’re going to help train celestials with those constructs?”


    “Yes,” acknowledged Amdirlain.


    “So, in effect, if I help train your slimes to use them more efficiently, I’m helping train heavenly soldiers,” stated Mars.


    Amdirlain briefly bit her lip. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”


    “I didn’t understand what Anna would get from me sitting and waiting either,” advised Mars. “Your advice made sense to me, so I followed your instructions and hoped it would work out.”


    “You’re not exactly being a static listener with me,” noted Amdirlain.


    Mars laughed. “Given your nature, I figure that crowding you would be the worst approach. Trees in an orchard need space for their roots and branches to spread in order to provide the best fruit.”


    Concealments enfolded them to keep anyone from even noticing their presence.


    “I have a problem,” admitted Amdirlain.


    Mars didn’t shift position or even blink.


    What’s with him acting like a statue suddenly? All the cautious tones within him. Do I come across as some deer he doesn’t want to scare away?


    “I find it next to impossible to see the value in my own contributions,” blurted Amdirlain. “What would you do to help a farmer see the worth of his life’s work?”


    “Who damaged you?” asked Mars.


    “Let’s not go there,” rebuffed Amdirlain.


    Mars frowned and tucked his thumb into his belt where his sheath hung. “What are you afraid of?”


    Fuck, where do I start? I’m not presenting this as a theoretical bullshit scenario.


    “I feel I keep going by Willpower alone at times, so much so I push it higher even when I know I need to improve my capacity in other areas,” replied Amdirlain. “I’m afraid that one day it’s not going to be enough, and people will see me as a fake.”


    Mars briefly chewed at his moustache. “You’d trust me with information like that?”


    “I can hear your music, Mars, and that of other deities. Your music is fierce yet stable and protective. Betrayal isn’t in your nature,” replied Amdirlain. “You’re not a god of strategy that might look to manipulate people into a situation as part of a larger plot. You help those that protect and feed others, bringing stability to a community.”


    Mars coughed. “I’ve seen similar things, but I’m not sure they’re really the same.”


    “Do tell.”


    “In Rome during victor parades, a slave would stand with the general on their chariot, and amidst the cheers tell them they are Mortal. It reminds them that fortune is fickle and the crowds cheer you simply because of your successes,” said Mars, fixing her with a knowing look. “You give yourself constant reminders that you can fail without allowing the sounds of the cheering crowd to reach you.”


    “That’s a way to put it,” laughed Amdirlain bitterly.


    “Does my being here because of past help you provided me make it better or worse?”


    “Worse,” admitted Amdirlain.


    “Well, that’s shit, ain’t it,” grumbled Mars. “I was going to wait around and be here if you wanted to talk, not be a looming presence in the background.”


    Amdirlain started to rub the back of her neck sheepishly, only to jerk her hand away.


    I need to talk to someone, but he reminds me too much of Torm in some ways. I’m not sure I’d ever be comfortable discussing the mess of my emotions with him.


    “But have you considered that I’m just a self-interested bastard who doesn’t want Anna to get angry at me because I didn’t make an effort to repay you?” proposed Mars. “Or that now I want to stick around because you’ve got a bunch of enchanted toys for me to rip apart and accumulate strength?”


    “I’ve already told you I can hear your nature, and even if I couldn’t, you’ve twisted the truth past belief with that suggestion,” rebuffed Amdirlain.


    “Aren’t you doing the same?” Mars countered. “What you’re doing is similar to how a bad leader can destroy an army’s morale without a single battle fought.”


    “I would have thought there were lots of ways.”


    Mars grumbled in frustration. “I’m just talking about one way. There is a difference between acknowledging weakness and aggravating weakness. Good leaders look at the troops’ strengths and weaknesses to understand their forces. While they need to acknowledge weakness so they’re not exploited, they don’t rub the army’s face into that weakness. The army wouldn''t stick around for any battle if commanders ran daily drills that caused the troops to fail, especially in drills areas they couldn’t overcome. They’ll see defeat everywhere until they can’t even conduct suitable exercises without failing.”


    “But the weakness is in myself.”


    Mars blew a raspberry. “Yeah, I get that, and now I know why you turned into that monster to fight. Failure to many people is the most hideous monster to face. When you are your own worst enemy, the blows always fall true because you know where to strike.”


    “How would you sort that army that saw failure in its future?”


    “You’re not an army,” replied Mars. “This makes it easier and harder. You don’t have thousands of troops whose morale you need to restore, but you can’t exactly dismiss the malicious voice. You need to figure out a way to put a different perspective in charge of reviewing your deeds.”


    “How? That’s a lot easier said than done.”


    “I’m a soldier and a farmer, not a thinker,” Mars muttered. “When officers review the plans for a battle or discuss the outcome, it’s good to have the person who sees problems, but they shouldn’t be the only people in the group. Find someone to share your negative thoughts with whose perspective you trust. Take some pressure off by pursuing normal things instead of always pushing yourself to accomplish grand goals.”


    “Why normal things?”


    “Grand deeds always end up in overblown songs and poems,” explained Mars. “The effort and pain become impersonal, and those who come after feel they can’t measure up to those deeds. Whereas being able to look at a planted field and go, I did that work. That is immediate evidence of your effort. From then on, each day the crops grow is more evidence, and the feast at the harvest is the triumph.”


    Amdirlain sighed and headed outside, unsure who to chance. Behind her, she heard Mars reenter the sparring area, constructs appearing around him. Her feet twitched towards Sarah’s forge, but Amdirlain forced herself to stop. As she stared at the door, she grew aware of the tears prickling in her gaze.


    I’m keeping secrets from her, and I don’t want to cause her pain. I need someone neutral-ish who I can handle talking to about this mess.