18 (I) “Relax”

Rest 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 simply cannot.

Face this. It is as much a fundamental truth as the sun rising in the morning, as mana pervading 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, to rest does not mean to 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 to 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 chess—some form of strategy. Majors should think about taking courses on engineering or 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 (I)

“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 would 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.

That was the first time Georges yelled at Shiv, chewing him out for improperly peeling the 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.

Sister Uva led him along a bridge into one of these residential blocks, where he was surprised to find 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 didn't complain. “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…”

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“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 arm 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. An implement by the door had ensured their shoes were clean when they entered. 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.”

Before they could dwell on the discussion, they finally arrived in front of a wooden door. “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—plus this 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. 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. 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 joking 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. “There's a small amount stocked. But that’s an exotic delicacy. We might have to get more after expending the ones here.”

“And do you have, uh, Mendules? Little blue mushrooms?”

“Oh, yes. But what are you making?”

“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.