Brent Stinebaker
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18 “Relax”
🕑 Added 2025-06-03 04:08:24 +0000 UTCRest is essential. Rest is non-negotiable. Rest is something many Pathbearers neglect during their journey to obtain more power and advance their standing in the world. You cannot overcome an injury through determination. You cannot overcome a lack of proficiency in a single day—or avenge a defeat in a single instant.
You cannot.
Face this. This is as much a fundamental truth as the sun rising in the morning, as mana prevades this world, as the Auroral Council watching over us eternal.
You need rest to recover from what you have done, what you have experienced, to internalize your trials and tribulations into something useful. Yet, rest does not mean languish. Rest does not mean do nothing. Rest also comes with its own work, its own preparations. It does not mean to go idle and drown yourself in meaningless pleasures. It means calm your mind, recover, so that you can come back stronger next time. And recovery can also bleed into other skills.
Hence, this is why we recommend all martial classes pick up something related to craftsmanship, a hobby, something that can nurture your spirit and regain your focus. When you are tired of one skill, you can seek and improve another. Those who dedicate themselves to the front line might wish to look into blacksmithing, or perhaps strategy—some form of chess. Majors should think about taking courses on engineering, physics, on top of their already required curriculum. But only things you enjoy.
This is essential. Do not simply take a class for synergy. That is not rest. That is building more strain. And if you are strained further, your skills will slow. We repeat this: your skills will slow. Even cooking—though it might not have a direct bearing on combat—is a good separate skill to have. After all, it is important to feed oneself and another. Besides, you will likely not always be at war, and there are more battlefields than the obvious one. Sometimes, the best skill to have is not the one that kills, but the one that nourishes, the one that feeds, and the one that makes you new friends.
-The Paths of Ascension, Essential Reading at Phoenix Academy of The Twilight Republic
18
“Relax”
After finishing with the Composer, Uva guided him back to another platform, where they summoned a new demon, and she took him straight to his temporary residence. Shiv was surprised that he was going to get a temporary residence, but the Composer did say she was going to reward him.
I suppose this comes with doing a great deed, Shiv thought as his heart beat faster. He remembered the hovel he lived in back on Blackedge. For years, after he was processed by the orphanage, he was left to fend for himself. Frankly, he started fending for himself even earlier, considering how the other children and matrons treated him.
After a few years of alley diving—knife fighting drunks who tried to rob or assault him in the middle of the night—he finally found a place to live when he was pilfering from the dumpster behind the Swan-Eating Toad. It was Georges who happened upon him while trying to have a smoke. That was also the same day he started as a chef, for the man saw him holding a knife, trying to peel a potato. He was insulted by Shiv’s form.
That was the first time George yelled at Shiv, chewing him out for improperly peeling a potato, leaving chunks of edible bits lost to the trash. Good times, Shiv thought to himself.
The demonic manta-thing touched down between four large buildings, each of them holding a separate mural of a different Weaveress. The first held a scepter, the second a large halberd, the third a tome of some kind, and the fourth the hand of a small umbral child.
There’s very much a running theme here, Shiv observed. The Weaveresses are in control of everything. The Umbrals are always in service or being saved. Interesting culture. Kind of a fixed hierarchy, though. Back in the Republic, anyone could technically be anything regardless of their race, but most high-ranking administrative roles were filled by automata, and most combat-heavy roles were human centric. Demographics had a way of skewing things…
Sister Uva led him along a bridge into one of these buildings, and from there, he was surprised that every single building had an elevator that could go up and down. He was also proving to be quite the public attraction, considering how many Weaveresses, weavers, and Umbrals took notice of him.
“You are a surfacer, so your presence here will not be…” Sister Uva tried to find the words.
“You mean, I’ll be seen like an exotic animal wandering around,” Shiv said.
She winced. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
Shiv grimaced but accepted the cards he was dealt. “Yeah, I don’t like being looked at that much by this many people either, but I’ll handle it. I always handle it.”
Uva eyed him for a moment. They entered an elevator, and a small umbral child with her mother briefly glanced at both Uva and Shiv before they quickly stepped off the elevator.
“Is that… is that one of the light-cursed, Mommy?” the small Umbral said, pointing at Shiv.
Her mother pulled the child along, telling her to hurry and not to draw his attention.
“Well, that hasn’t changed,” Shiv muttered.
“Don’t mind them,” Uva said. “They don’t know you. They’ll take some time to warm up. When the Composer has her Weaveresses announce your great deed, you can expect the reception to change. The news will latch on as well. You’ll be surprised at how one’s reputation can shift in an instant.”
Shiv shrugged. “I don’t really care that much, either. I’m used to it.”
“Used to…” Uva asked, “people not liking you? Why?”
“Well,” Shiv sighed, “it’s a long story.”
“As your guide, I have time now. It is my official capacity to listen to your long stories.” He saw the faint flicker of a smile on her face, and slowly, Shiv felt his apprehension dissolve a bit.
“Do you want to be here, Uva?” Shiv asked. His question took her by surprise. She hit a button, and their elevator started going up.
“I’ve been told to, by the Composer herself. It’s a great honor.”
“But do you want to be?” Shiv pressed. “Because if you don’t, I wouldn’t mind if—”
“No, no,” Uva said. “I…” Slowly, she reached out with her arm and wrapped her hand around his bicep. Shiv blinked, and he went very still. She pressed her thumb against his arm, and he realized she was feeling for the wound he took for her earlier. “Well, healed, no scarring…”
“What are you doing, Uva?” Shiv said, his heartbeat quickening slightly.
“Just… I never thanked you earlier,” she said. “The strike—I saw it coming too. I just wasn’t fast enough. It would have pierced me. It might have killed me.”
Sister Uva blinked and looked aside, as if realizing the weight of her own mortality.
Shiv shrugged. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let him do that. Not after everyone else he hurt and killed.”
Her hand lingered on his bicep for a brief while. “Thank you. It was brave and…” She paused, searching for the words. “I apologize for how I acted when we first met.”
Shiv waved her off. “You had a job to do. I just… it still stands. Outside in the wilderness, I ran into a mind weaver, and, well, that much you know. When they reached into my mind…”
“You felt like your sense of self was being destroyed. You were afraid that you would be enslaved.”
“Yeah,” Shiv said. The admission left a bitter taste in his mouth. “It’s one of the few things I think I do fear now. One of the only things.”
“I understand,” Uva said. “It is something that all Psychomancers fear as well. We have a better understanding of our vulnerability than most others.”
“You do?” Shiv said.
“Yes, because the first mind you learn to control as a Psychomancer is your own. If you cannot master your own emotions or guide them, then someone else will. And if someone else can, then they control you.”
He took this opportunity, pressing his advantage. “I have a request.”
“I hope I can deliver,” she said, sounding a little apprehensive.
“Can you train me, or teach me Psychomancy?”
She blinked as if this wasn’t what she was expecting. “I… it will take time for you to attune yourself to the mana. And since you are afraid of someone reaching into your mind, it’s going to be difficult for you to be exposed to this kind of mana.”
Shiv hesitated for a moment, then let out a long breath. “What if… what if I agree to let you touch parts of my mind for a certain period of time, when you have time? Would that help?”
She stared at him for a while. “We could start with telepathy, perhaps,” she said, taking on a thoughtful expression. “You are mainly doing this for defensive purposes, yes?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And according to Valor here, I don’t hate magic nearly enough to get an easy Magical Resistance skill.”
“Well, considering your unique circumstances, you could find a group of mages who really, really don’t like you and let them bludgeon you to death over and over again,” Valor mused.
“What?” Uva said.
“Uh, he’s mostly joking,” Shiv added. He glared at the dagger briefly, but realized that was useless. Valor Thann could only hear him—the dagger offered no sight.
As the door opened, she led him down another set of halls, all richly decorated, with nice soft plush carpets beneath his feet. Shiv looked around and took in everything, feasting his eyes.
“Is this, uh, for high-class people?” he asked.
“It is a well-to-do neighborhood,” she said, “but no, it is not for especially rich people. A mixed assortment live here—mostly craftsmen and merchants and the like.”
“Huh,” Shiv muttered. “A kind of house like this would be pretty impressive back where I came from.”
“Blackedge, was it?” she asked.
“Yeah, Blackedge.”
“Here we are.”
Shiv looked at the door and found that he couldn’t quite read the letters.
“8308,” Uva told him.
“I’ll try to remember that,” Shiv said. “Also the way here.”
She eyed him briefly. “I will make sure that you are prepared to get around the city. Don’t worry.” Then, she pulled out a key and opened the door. When she was done, she handed him a key as well.
“Do you…” She looked at him and paused, closing her eyes in embarrassment.
“What? Is there something wrong?”
“I was going to ask if you have any luggage. But…”
“But the only reason I still have a shirt is because you loaned me one?” Shiv said, smirking.
Uva’s lips pressed together. “Something like that.”
She led him inside. Shiv looked around, and his mind went blank.
“So, as you can see here, you’ll have a bathroom, a living room, a master bedroom connected to the living room—like so.” She found him standing right at the doorway, staring into the bathroom.
“Is there something wrong? Is this unit not to your liking?” she asked. She paused. “You will be offered a more luxurious and permanent residence in the future, this I am sure of. After all you did—
“No, no, it’s not that,” Shiv interrupted. He just kept staring into the bathroom.
It was wide and white and pristine. There looked to be some kind of sink. There were knobs. Fresh towels. An honest-to-god bathtub with some kind of nozzle on top—what round-head thing—he didn’t even know what that was. And then, there was a magical toilet. He only saw that in other people’s homes. I made do with a bucket at home. And that’s why I liked to shit in the library, Shiv thought to himself.
All this felt a bit overwhelming for him. He took a step into the bathroom and looked around. Uva followed him, her head peeking in behind the door.
“Do you find it dirty?” she asked.
“I think it’s one of the cleanest places I’ve ever been in,” he whispered. “It’s also larger than my previous home.”
“What, this unit?” Uva asked.
“No, the bathroom.” He turned and looked at her.
She blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing several times. “Is this another one of your jokes? A surfacer jest?”
He shook his head. “Nope. My home was…” He gestured and came to a slight halt before the shower. “This large.”
“That’s not a home, Shiv,” she said. “It’s more like a prison. I don’t even think we leave our prisoners in cells so small.”
Shiv shrugged. “It was the only thing I could get. I rented it off the books at a little bit of a higher price.” He thought back to how Georges screamed and shouted at the renter until the man finally gave up. That was the only reason Shiv had a place to stay. And Georges was particularly livid when he found out Shiv was just sleeping in the back of the restaurant.
Shiv finally broke from his trance and looked back to Uva. “Sorry, you can show me the rest of the apartment now.”
And she did just that. He saw his living room, and it was nice. There was some kind of magic crystal in the center that could apparently let him glimpse other places and what she called “programs” and “live theater moments.” Shiv didn’t fully understand that, but he heard the richer nobility on Blackedge had something similar: entertainment channels, modeled after what the ancients supposedly enjoyed before the System’s arrival.
His bedroom had a bed—a real, honest-to-system bed. It was wider than Shiv could have possibly imagined. The sheets were delightful. There were no roaches. The wind didn’t come through. The roof didn’t leak. There was even a cute little night lamp on the side. And cabinets—places to store clothes. Clothes he didn’t have.
Shiv looked at all of this and found himself overwhelmed. This place was huge—much bigger than he anticipated. He also saw that little spot, that little section of white with pleasant countertops and cooking utensils: a small kitchen, all for his own use. He stared at that as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.
“Oh yes,” Uva said. “You said you were a chef. You weren’t jesting about that, were you?”
“No,” he said. “The offer still stands. You want to try something? Is this place’s pantry stocked?”
She nodded and opened the cabinet. As Shiv looked inside, he grinned.
“You got shrimp?”
“We do have seafood,” she replied, “though it might not be the kind you’re used to.”
“I’ll make do. You have cave-biter meat?”
She stared at him briefly. “We do? But that’s an exotic delicacy. We might have to get more after expending the ones in stock.”
“And do you have, uh, Mendules? Little blue mushrooms?”
“Oh yes. But, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to make something I made for myself on the way,” Shiv said. “Something I had in a little mountain alcove while walking through the wilderness.”
She blinked at him. “Is this going to be poisonous?”
“Well, it didn’t kill me.”
“Shiv, I’m beginning to suspect that nothing can kill you.”
Shiv barely suppressed his grin at Sister Uva. She didn’t know how right and wrong she was at the same time. “Have a little faith, Sister,” Shiv said. He took on a challenging, provoking expression.
She leaned back and folded her arms. “Earn it, surfacer.”
Oh, it was on.
***
“By the Composer,” Uva moaned. She blinked rapidly as she put her hand over her mouth. “By the Composer,” she said again.
Shiv’s gut tightened. “What, is it bad? Do you not like it?”
She shook her head, and his heart fell briefly before she continued. “It’s great! Why are you so good at this?” She finally swallowed her food, and as her food went down, so did the anxiety bunched up inside Shiv.
He let out a breath. “This is actually what I spent most of my life doing. Well, most of my life after I got a job.”
Cooking > 21
“You said you worked as a chef. I still wasn’t sure if you were joking,” Sister Uva said, leaning back in her chair. She shook her head. “You are a man of many surprises, Shiv.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He was proud of himself. After a long day of fighting people, surviving perils, and getting killed, now he got to do his other favorite thing—and with someone else, no less: cooking.
“How did you discover how to make this?” she asked with a smile. “This is quite creative and surprising.”
“You don’t expect me to be creative and surprising?”
“Well, considering how you fought, I expected you to be blunt and brutal. No offense.”
Shiv shook his head, “None taken. I’m, uh, mostly self-trained.”
“I could see that,” Uva said.
“Did you mean offense when you said that?”
“A little bit.” She had a small smile, and he thought he quite enjoyed that small smile on her face. It made her look rather pretty.
She took another bite of his unique recipe, and he felt his cooking advance. Well, that’s another good reward for the day, Shiv thought to himself.
“So, tell me about your past. Tell me about why people don’t like you,” Uva said as she leaned back in her chair. She eyed Shiv—confused and strangely sympathetic. “So far you seem… pleasant.”
“Just pleasant?” Shiv asked.
Uva rolled her eyes. “Don’t push your luck, surfacer.”
He should have laughed. Then the laugh faded, and Shiv started thinking about his past—his past. Why would someone want to know about that?
Shiv opened his hands and closed them again. “Well, how much do you want to know?”
“As much as you want to tell,” she said. “You can choose to not say anything. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Shiv said. “It’s just… All right, where do we start? Let’s begin with when everything went wrong.”
“When everything went wrong?” she echoed.
“Yeah—the day I was born.” Shiv said
Uva huffed. “Do you ever stop jesting, Shiv?”
“No, I’m not joking this time,” Shiv said. “You’re probably not going to like what I tell you.”
She blinked, and he went into detail about what his parents did, about the ritual, about the omen-born curse. And as he did, he saw that look on her face: the brief flashes of horror, the widening of her eyes. He stopped eating, which disappointed him the most. Then he moved through the early parts of his life: the orphanage, the streets, running into Georges, the Swan-Eating Toad. And then he accelerated, talking about wanting to get a path—and everything Georges did for him leading up to this moment. He was vague about how he eventually attained his Path, but he did say he earned it just before he got thrown off the edge by the raven-helmed stranger.
“And that’s generally everything,” he said, finishing with a huff.
A few hours had passed. He hadn’t seen much of Weave, but he didn’t feel like going out. Not today. Today was for rest and, apparently, conversation. Uva, however, seemed to have dropped out of the conversation part. She was just staring at him, saying nothing.
Finally, she picked up her fork again, skewered the last bit of cave-biter meat—drenched blue and gold by the soup—and finished her meal. Slowly, she reached over and patted his arm. Shiv looked at her fingers: how pale they were, how thin and well-maintained her nails were.
“I’m sorry that you grew up around a bunch of dung-eaters,” Uva said simply.
That caught him by surprise. Shiv nearly folded over. “Dung-eaters? Is that what you call people you don’t like down here?”
“Yes, but they’re also a certain kind of bug—a very mean form of cockroach, the size of a small boulder.”
Shiv blinked at her. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “If you run into one, you need to flip them over. They don’t break easily from the topside, and if you don’t have any magic… well, Shiv, your Biomancy can probably help you here. You’ll just burst them from the inside. Do be mindful of their larger queen variants, though. Sometimes those have Magical Resistance.”
Shiv thought about that. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Do they taste good?”
She stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“No, I’m genuinely curious.”
“People don’t usually eat roaches, Shiv.”
“Why not?” She stared at him. “Listen, I grew up on the streets, okay?”
“Yes, but most of us don’t,” Uva replied.
Shiv sighed. “Yeah, I guess, but you can’t fault me for being curious. I’m a chef, after all.”
“Yes, but… you know, you can be selectively curious.”
“No,” Shiv said.
“No?” she replied incredulously.
“No. I’ll try everything.”
Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again before she sighed. “You are a very interesting man. A very interesting surfacer.”
Shiv smirked at her. “Is that what you say to all of us?”
“Only the interesting ones,” she said. “And so far, you are one for one—which makes you the best and the worst at the same time. If we discount your badly wounded companion. Who you claim to not know.”
Shiv chuckled. He couldn’t remember enjoying a conversation this much other than with–
“Shiv,” Valor said.
Shiv nearly jumped. He’d forgotten about Valor’s existence. The dagger was left on a counter nearby, and Shiv went over.
“Oh, hey, Valor. Sorry, I was, uh… Yes, you were busy having conversations with other people.”
“This is understandable. However, could you place me somewhere else? In another room, preferably? Because I’m beginning to feel like a third party in something that should only have two.”
Uva’s face redded into a blush—and that’s when Shiv realized Umbrals could blush. He, meanwhile, kept his own redness in check as he moved Valor over to the bedroom, offering a quick apology.
As he placed Valor down, he heard the dagger murmur, “I do think she likes you. But be perhaps a little bit more tactful.”
Shiv blinked at the dagger. “Uh, yeah, thanks, I guess. We’re just making conversation now, is all.”
“That’s how it always starts, Shiv. That’s how it always begins. Now, with me gone and no longer feeling the role of an unwilling wheel, talk away.”
Shiv felt a little bad. “We can talk later, especially at night. I have a lot of explaining to do.”
“As will I, I suppose,” Valor said. “But for now, just enjoy yourself. You’ve had quite the ordeal. I can wait. Because I’m going to have to wait.” Valor promptly started grumbling about the Composer lying to him and everyone using politics against him. Shiv felt bad, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, so he went out and continued his conversation.
As he took his seat across from Uva—her head still in her hands—she said, “I am mortified and embarrassed. I have shamed myself.”
Shiv nodded. “Yeah, well, that happens sometimes. Valor is gone now, though, unless you want me to bring him back.”
“Please don’t,” she said. “I don’t think my image in the eyes of the great Valor Thann will recover.”
“Yeah, about that. You know I don’t really know anything about him, right?”
“And yet you agreed to deliver him, still.”
Shiv shrugged. “It was Nomos’s dying wish.”
Uva looked at Shiv. “This sounds terrible to say but… I heard Sister Nomos was a dung-eater.”
Shiv snorted. That was a common thread. “Yeah, she threatened to breed me before she died. What’s up with that, anyway? Is that for the Weaveresses? They implant little eggs inside people? Sounds messed up.”
Uva sighed. “We usually use bodies for that.”
“Bodies?” Shiv repeated.
“Yes—the deceased. It’s a sacred ritual.”
“It sounds strange. It sounds horrifying,” Shiv said.
“It can be,” Uva finally admitted. “We sometimes use it on prisoners who have committed grievous wrongs.”
Shiv just stared at her. He was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake coming to Weave.
“You will understand in time.”
“I guess,” Shiv managed. “Listen, can we talk about something else other than, you know, spider breeding via corpses?”
“You started it,” Uva said. She was right.
“So, uh, how about that Psychomancy?”
She stared at him. “Now, really? Aren’t you tired? I finished cooking for you, didn’t I? You barely ate anything.”
Shiv shrugged. “I’ll eat later. At night. It’s when I usually eat anyway.”
“At night?” she echoed.
“Yeah, when I’m on my own. When I have my own time.”
She nodded slowly, and he felt the first touches of her mana sink into his mind.
“Can you hear me now?” Uva asked.
Shiv tensed, but he nodded.
“Good. We will start slow. We will start with some basic messaging, after which I’ll read your surface thoughts. And then I will show you what a few light probing attacks feel like.”
We’re starting slow, Shiv thought back at her.
“Yes, but you are doing this for defense. You were traumatized before—”
Wouldn’t call it that.
Uva narrowed her eyes. “Well, my brave and noble and indomitable surfacer, call it whatever you will, but it left a scar, and I can still feel it.”
Shiv’s expression flattened. “Yeah, okay. Uh, thanks.”
“Now,” Uva said, “it is the least I can do.” And he felt a faint trace of something else there—more than words, a building warmth.
Was that affection? Shiv wondered.
Once more, she spoke to him, even as the corner of her lip curled upward. “Don’t push it, surfacer.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shiv replied, unable to hide a smile of his own.
***
After a few hours of mental conversation and some light probing attacks that left blanks in his memory, Shiv wasn’t any closer to obtaining a Psychomancy skill, but he was less afraid of mind magic overall.
“You have very strong resilience,” Uva said. “Unnaturally strong.”
“Unnaturally strong,” Shiv replied. “Does that mean it’ll be harder to break my mind?”
“Not really.” Uva winced a little bit. “Its principles of Psychomancy are similar to Biomancy. Does your Toughness prevent your flesh from betraying itself?”
Shiv looked down. “No.”
“Yes, Shiv, I can feel how strong you are—how ironclad your will. But if I tell it to, it’ll betray you.”
“So the mind weaver I faced—the feral… the reason I’m not broken right now is because they were weak?”
“Unskilled,” Uva said.
“How easy would it be for you to just…” Shiv made a gesture, a clenching fist.
“Not particularly hard,” she admitted.
“Well, thanks for not doing that.”
“Thanks for not pushing my brain out of my eye sockets.”
Shiv shook his head at the memory. “We really got off to an ugly start. Yeah, I was just trying to be tough so you wouldn’t blow my mind.”
Uva stared at him. “We all do what we can for ourselves in desperate times.” Her magic receded from his mind. And then he thought back to what Foreshadowing revealed about her: about the dagger she had at her home, about the death of her mother. He wasn’t the only one with mental scars. Shiv also realized how fortunate it was that he hadn’t thought about that while she was talking to him.
“We should continue this tomorrow. You should finally eat and actually get some rest,” Uva said. “You’ve done a lot of things today. Trust me, in time, people will get used to you. You might be an oddity for now, but if you continue being as you are, we’ll come to accept you. Blackedge…” She frowned. “I don’t know why you want to bother with that place. Ah. Sorry. I sound horrible. Now I’m a dung-eater.”
The Deathless shrugged. “Not all of them are bastards. I owe Georges a lot. And frankly, even though I hate him, I can’t leave Roland Arrow to die.”
“Because you still feel like you owe him your life. But it was his choice not to kill you. It was also his choice to ruin your life,” Uva said, with a little more heat in her voice.
Shiv looked at her. “You don’t know him like I do, and I barely know him, but he’s a decent man—he’s just not strong enough. I’m going to be strong enough. I’m not going to make the same mistake he did, no matter what.”
She looked at him, and he saw in her eyes a burgeoning appreciation. “It’s getting late,” she said again. “I will see you in the morning. We didn’t get to see much of the city today, but…”
“Well, yeah. At least I got to enjoy some cooking. And company.”
She tapped her empty bowl. “Thank you. For the food. Thank you for the company.”
“It was nice. Not having someone throwing things at me, or screaming at me, or threatening to melt my mind.”
“We can still get there someday,” she smirked. He walked her to the door, and as she prepared to step out, she looked over her shoulder. “Keep yourself safe, Shiv.”
“Yeah, I’m not planning on fighting anyone.”
“You don’t strike me as the person who plans to do something terrible, but I suspect trouble has a way of finding you.”
“I suspect you’re not wrong,” Shiv replied. “Good night, Sister Uva. I’d walk you home if you want me to.” She opened her mouth, and he finished what she was going to say. “I’m not going to push my luck, though.”
At that moment, she offered a genuine smile. “Good night, Shiv.” And she walked away.
He watched her walk for a while, staring at her back and other things. “Shiv,” she sent a thought to him with her magic, “stop staring and close the door.” He laughed, and did as he was asked.
That was… I was wrong, Shiv thought. A few days ago, in that alcove, I thought that was the best day of my life. I think it just got topped.
As he walked back into his apartment, he took another stroll around, marveling at all this space to himself. Then he made a beeline for his bedroom, because the conversations weren’t over yet.
“Sorry, Valor,” he said, genuinely apologetic. He ran his hand across the dagger and then stopped. It felt demeaning to be stroking Valor Thann like this.
“It’s fine, Shiv. I was young once, too. I understood... I understand how it is.” Valor Thann sounded a little miffed, though. “Still, you know what really offended me?”
Shiv clenched his teeth. “What?”
“The fact that you forgot I was here.”
“Yeah, uh…” Shiv grimaced. “Sorry.”
That’s why I want to stop being inside this dagger. Do you understand? How long do you think it’s been since I’ve been cooped up?”
“Forty years,” Shiv said.
“Yes, forty years,” Valor said. “You… do you know that you were the first genuinely enjoyable conversation I had for forty years? Nomos… Great One, sometimes silence was better than her.”
Shiv felt flattered. “Well, I’m glad I give you that, at least. Still, how did you end up inside the dagger? You said something about your son.”
Valor didn’t reply immediately, and the silence dragged. Shiv felt like he overstepped. “If you don’t want to talk about it…”
“Not yet,” Valor said. “Not about that. But what you need to know is that I was one of the first practitioners of the Dichotomous Soul Ritual. To you surfacers, this meant that I was a lich.”
“Lich,” Shiv murmured, a term he knew. “So you could resurrect. You… you could move between bodies?”
“Yes, in a sense,” Valor continued. “It’s much more complicated than that, though. It’s more like you’re multiplying your soul to exist in different places at once, so you can rapidly shift between vessels. Most people cannot achieve this. Even Legendary Pathbearers have a hard time completing the full ritual. I suppose the long and short of things you need to know is that most of my vessels have been sealed away. I was not easy to slay, and ultimately I suspect my captors didn’t wish to slay me—they simply wished to trap me. And so here I am, separated from the other parts of myself, like shackles partitioning my soul into different places at once. This is the only part of me that is truly conscious; the others… Great One knows what’s there and how they’re used.”
“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Valor let out a surprise hum. “We?”
“Yeah, you’re a dagger. How are you going to find out on your own?” he said, as it was the simplest thing in the world.
“That is very encouraging, Shiv. I love being reminded of my predicament.”
“Sorry.” Shiv exhaled. “But still, you know what I mean. I’m not going to leave you stuck in the dagger. Besides, the Composer said she’d help.”
“Yes, she did say that, didn’t she?”
“You don’t sound like you trust her very much.”
“No, I do. I just—I’m pretty sure it will come with more stipulations and terms. So far, you are the only person I truly trust. And there are caveats to that, too.”
“Yeah,” Shiv said, letting his breath drag. “You understand why I was apprehensive about letting you know my Path and abilities.”
“Oh, I do. That doesn’t mean I won’t have an emotional response to it, but I do. And I don’t blame you. Still, what you’re capable of—what your parents did and achieved—it requires a level of Animacy beyond me. And there’s only one person I know who can do that, who could have possibly achieved what your parents did with you.”
“Who’s that?” Shiv asked.
“My son. Udraal Thann. Yes, the same one who betrayed me,” Valor said, finishing with a cold note.
Shiv didn’t press that line of dialogue. But now, suddenly, a path took shape for Shiv. His past was open as well. He barely knew his parents, didn’t even remember what they looked like. They were so struck from the record that they might as well not have existed. But now Valor was saying that they couldn’t have achieved the ritual, at least not on their own. Udraal Thann—Valor Thon’s son. If Shiv ever met him…
I just might find out a few things about old mom and dad. Shiv didn’t know how he felt about that. He’d cross that bridge when the time came.
“So, aside from needing a source of vitality to drain, do you suffer anything else?” Valor asked.
“No,” Shiv said. “I just need vitality, and once it gets to a certain amount, a shadowy cocoon forms over me and I pop out.”
“How fascinating,” Valor said. “Well, you will need to tell me more about this and try to level the skill as much as you can.”
“You’re asking me to die more?” Shiv said, deadpan.
“I—well, yes,” Valor replied. “Uh, I apologize.”
“No,” Shiv said. “I’m fine with it. I just… like busting your chops.”
Valor paused. “It’s been a while since someone did that to me. Some might call you brave. Or foolish. I am a very feared man.”
“Well, you’re a stone dagger right now,” Shiv said. “If you could have killed me, well, I’d be pretty mad at you, considering you didn’t help me very much in a direct fight earlier—against the weavers earlier.”
A beat followed. “You have no idea how aggravating and correct you are, boy.”
A comfortable silence followed.
“Shiv,” Valor said again.
Shiv hummed.
“Do you… what is your plan for the future?”
Shiv considered it. “Well, in the immediate future, I’m going to take some time off. I’ll probably go find the Biomancers and that Weaveress who healed me earlier today. But before that, I’ll need to go to a bookstore to get those books you mentioned. And, oh, damn it, I probably need to talk with Sister Uva tomorrow about money. And if they have the books in a language I can read.”
“I might be able to help with the book matter—and most bookstores come with their own translation services,” Valor said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, long-term—the quest.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely doing that,” Shiv said. “A Legendary Skill Evolution is really useful. And, uh, Blackedge does need to be saved.”
He licked his lips, trying to think of how he was going to fight Vicar Sullain. “That seems more like a Roland Arrow tier problem right now,” Shiv said. “Still, I don’t need to fight the Vicar directly if I want to save the city. I could do many other things, like perhaps—I don’t know—ambush some of the Vicar’s troops, or even go to the capital to inform them about what’s actually happening.” And that is when he thought of Adam Arrow. The Young Lord would be useful in a situation like this. They might not trust Shiv, but they would definitely trust Adam Arrow.
“And you’re willing to save them, to fight for the Republic, even after all they did to you?”
“I’m not fighting for the Republic,” Shiv said. “I’m just doing what I think is right. And for the people who’ve done right by me…” Shiv paused. “I don’t think of Blackedge when someone mentions the town. I think of all the bastards there who treated me poorly, but I also think of Georges, who’s the only reason why I probably didn’t end up dead earlier— which might have worked out for me, in retrospect. But I also think of Seymour. I think of the other chefs, I think of Roland Arrow, and how much I want to rub this moment—and everything I did, everything I achieved without him holding me down—in his face.”
Shiv paused briefly. “I guess what I’m saying is a town’s not a living thing, but it’s got living people, and some of them are worth fighting for. That’s the way I see it, at least.”
“You’re a decent boy, Shiv,” Valor said. “Don’t let anyone change that.”
“I don’t intend to,” Shiv said again. “Now, I think I’m going to check in for the day. I’ll make some dinner first, then I’ll try and figure out how the shower works, and then, well, I’m going to lay down on that bed and see if I can fall asleep.”
“Very well. Good luck, Shiv.”
“I can place you next to me on the bed. Can you sleep?”
“No. And that would be very weird, Shiv.”
“Yeah, okay. I was kind of thinking that too, but I wanted to be polite.”
“Thank you. But that’s not necessary. I think I will return to meditation. You can call out to me when you wake up. Good night, Shiv.”
“See you in the morning, Valor.”
***
Unfortunately for Shiv, the next problem came only a few seconds into mourning. It was midnight, and he was snoring softly, enjoying the nice, soft fabric of his bedsheets, when there was a heavy knock on the door. Shiv shot up, his heart spiking. He patted himself, looking for a knife that wasn’t there.
Damn it, Shiv thought. They haven’t given me back my kitchen knife yet. He really needed that back. He hoped they didn’t lose it.
He staggered to the door, feeling at the outside using his Biomancy. To his surprise, his field was much larger than before—part of the gains he got from slaying the raven-helmed stranger. It extended approximately ten meters away now, maybe a bit further, and he could feel Sister Uva’s standing right there, just outside his door.
He let out a grunt as he shook his head. “Valor?” he called.
“What is it? Is something wrong, Shiv?” Valor said, his own voice alert.
“Someone’s knocking on the door, Valor,” Shiv said, and he grabbed Valor. “I might stab them using you.”
“Good, Shiv,” Valor said, also sounding annoyed. “They interrupted a very, very productive meditation session. I’m very blunt right now, so aim for their eyes.”
“Yeah, I’ll try doing that,” Shiv groggily agreed. Before he realized what his field sense. “No, wait. It’s Uva. We’re not stabbing her.”
A long sigh came from Valor. “I’m probably not stabbing her. I can’t say the same about you.”
“What are you talking about.”
“What did you say to her, boy?’
“Why?”
“Because I want to know the damn devil words you used to make a woman you just met—with a threat of murder no less—come back to your residence in the middle of the night.”
As Shiv staggered to the door, he realized that he was shirtless, wearing only his underwear, but he didn’t really care. His Diamond Shell was born of taking injuries without armor, and he didn’t think Uva was going to hurt him. He stared through the eyehole of the door and studied her. There was an urgent look on her face as well.
Slowly, Shiv opened the door, letting it swing wide.
Sister Uva opened her mouth, and then her eyes dropped low, staring at Shiv’s undressed state and gleaming torso. She sputtered for a moment before composing herself. “I–I need you to come with me.”
Shiv leaned against the door frame, his exhaustion peeling away. He was expecting her to be mad, but now, he was just curious. “See, now who’s pushing their luck?” Shiv said as smoothly as he could.
To his surprise, Valor choked. “The charm of a devil…”
Sister Uva blinked before she realized the implications of his words. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, it’s… it’s an emergency matter—one that requires your attention.”
Shiv smirked, unfazed. He pushed off the door frame. “What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s the other surfacer—the one you claim to not know, and do actually know—The Composer said you personally know him. It’s about him.”
“Yeah,” Shiv muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “That… that… you remember me telling you about Roland Arrow, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s his son—”
“Adam Arrow. That’s the Dread Horizon’s child?”
“You remember his name?” Shiv said. She has a really good memory.
She gave a weary breath. “Well, the Young Lord has taken some Biomancers hostage at the Cradle of Flesh, and he’s demanding to talk with you. He also says that if you don’t come, he will—and I quote—‘start putting Abyssals to the flame.’”
Shiv took a very, very deep breath. Of course—right after I had the best day of my life, Adam Arrow had to take a big shit and ruin it. “I’m going to kill him,” Shiv said very calmly. “I’m going to kill him with my own two hands.”
“Well, then you best hurry,” Uva said, “because the Weaveresses have assembled several Shadow Cells, and they’re only on standby because the Composer told them to be. She wants you to try diplomacy first. After that, he becomes breeding material.”
Comments
SirWins
Well we are getting exposition through shiv. And it doesn’t make sense to trust any of these big organizations or faiths. But it’s understandable if he is treated better than his usual baseline that would make him much more amiable to these faiths. Very different gravitas to the powerful characters then godclads for now
SirWins
Hmm. Based on his past. Maybe he is a bit naive but he seems to be open himself pretty easily if someone treats him nice. I guess living a life of being ostracized can do that to someone. I wonder if the composer can influence the uva lady to basically try and fall for her and tie him to his cause. Maybe I am cynical but that would make sense from an organization talent acquisition perspective. If that is the case does shiv see it or not?🤔. Well the dagger seems a bit invested in him I guess he would give him advice if he feels that’s where it’s going.
