Leander let the rest of the world fall away as he focused on Laurel's instructions. No purposeful maiming or cruelty would be allowed. First to force their opponent into submission, or until a judge declared a victor. Five bouts today, which would eliminate a third of all combatants and place the rest into a bracket for the rest of the tournament.

He bounced from foot to foot, keeping his body warm and ready for anything. A thin layer of sand covered a stone floor. Less exciting than the kalsa games but better for sparring. No one would have an advantage, and smooth stone wouldn't cause anyone to slip.

He glanced around before refocusing. The sect members were scattered to keep things fair. They fought each other too much and wouldn't want to be accused of cheating. Privately, he assumed it would also give the audience something to watch, as the frontrunners wouldn't be bunched together.

Clear across the Arena, he saw Rex and smiled. Today was the day.

Laurel finished her explanation of the rules, and Leander shuffled off to join his first group. His opponent was another Meristan, one that lived somewhere near Lanport. Leander had seen her before but never interacted.

They were up first. After another rehashing of the rules from Pavan, who was judging their bouts, it began.

And then it ended. It had taken Leander three moves and about ten seconds to take down the other teenager. In fact, he was still in his stance after recovering when Pavan called the bout. Flat-footed, he was a moment late to offer her a hand up as she had already scrambled to her feet and turned away.

Leander sketched a bow and walked back to the sidelines. Across the way, he thought he saw the girl tear up and felt even worse. A cultivator always fought to win, but they didn't have to be rude about it. He would do better next time.

*********

Cooper watched the first day's bouts from the stands with the rest of the sect. His mother had poked and cajoled him to join them in the private box she had rented for the occasion, but he had managed to put her off. At least for today. He was under no illusions that he wouldn't capitulate by the end of the week. However for the opening of their first tournament, showing support for the sect was paramount.

That was the justification he was using and he was sticking to it. Even if Leander had just obliterated some girl and made her cry. On the opposite side of the Arena, Gabrielle body-slammed her opponent into the sand. He winced in sympathy, having been on the other end of the elbow that had just jabbed into the man's stomach more times than he cared to remember.

A broader view showed the same reaction everywhere. Not all the sect members competing were winning handily, Natalia appeared to be putting more effort into bouncing around her sparring ring than actually hitting anyone, but on the whole, the Eternal Archive was putting on an impressive show.

A competition focused on hand-to-hand fighting was perhaps an unfair way to judge cultivators in the modern age. Cooper produced a small notebook and wrote himself a reminder. Next time they should have a marksmanship competition. They wouldn't be able to use the Arena but there was more than one shooting range in the City and the surroundings, for men like his older brothers liked to hang around to show off.

As the participants on the Arena floor shuffled for the next matches, George collapsed into the seat next to him and slumped against the rigid chair backs they were afforded in the reserved sections. He wrote another note - improve seating.

"You missed the king's speech."

"Good," George grunted. His accent was coming through thicker than usual, a clear sign of the stress the last months had heaped on his back.

"He said some very nice things about the sect."

"Always does. How else to get the sect to solve all his problems?"

Cooper turned to look George fully in the face at the scathing tone.

"Sorry," he said. "It's been a weird morning, slept bad."

"Oy! How about you stop complaining and pay attention boyo?"

The slightly muffled voice had Cooper leaning all the way around George, to see Barbo sitting on his opposite shoulder, half hidden in the other man's blonde hair.

"Good morning," Cooper said, when nothing else sprang to mind.

"Morning. How goes the tournament?"

"Oh, um good so far. Our sect is doing well."

"Good, good."

Rousing himself to speech, George re-entered the conversation, this time with less anger and more muffled humor. "Barbo arrived at the sect house this morning. Had a standoff with Rocky that almost went south before anyone noticed."

"I had it well in hand boyo, never you fear."

"Esther heard the commotion and lured Rocky away with some snacks, then fetched me to act as an escort."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Not a body's fault that everything in this place is so blasted far apart."

"So now you see us both here to watch." George finished his story, having gone from grumpy to amused from the retelling.

"I didn't know you were coming, Barbo, or I would have waited." Cooper mouthed 'sorry' to George, who rolled his eyes in response.

"Course I'm coming. Was invited wasn't I? Gives me a chance to take the measure of these so-called protectors."

"I think you'll find it impressive," Cooper responded. "Our sect mates are planning to do quite well for themselves."

"Pshaw. Sure, in the kiddie games. We'll see when the real fights start."

The trio sat in silence, surrounded on three sides by chattering sect members, too inexperienced or simply uninterested in fighting, but attending to cheer on their friends.

When he couldn't take the silence anymore, Cooper wracked his mind for anything to add to discuss. "How's the farming going, Barbo."

"The sea provides, boyo. The sea provides."

***********

Leander focused on his breathing between bouts. The other fights were important to watch– a cultivator seized every advantage– but he didn't learn much. Two of his group members had some skill, but both hesitated before they went through with a blow. Either afraid of hurting themselves or one of the others. He guessed if they had fought for real, it was only weak spirit beasts, or else from a distance.

His limbs were getting too cool so he swung his arms and jumped around to keep everything limber.

"Leander of the Eternal Archive and Timothee Careste."

At the sound of his name, Leander bounded forward and dropped into a ready stance across from one of the two other competitors he had noted as a potential challenger. He looked to be about Leander's age, but was a full head taller. Timothee's clothes were nice, loose but not grabbable. Perfect for fighting.

It all added up to one thing. Timothee Careste was rich.

Leander wasn't on the streets anymore. He had earned a place in the world with his bare hands, and was one of the defenders of Verilia. But a homeless street rat still lived deep down inside. And that kid relished the opportunity to punch some upper-district jerk right in the face.

*********

"There is hardly any time to waste."

"Agreed, Jade. Let's begin."

It was an impressive room. Dangerous, and not in the abstract political power way the mortals liked to bandy about.

Laurel sat at the head of a table in the sect house. Martin on the other end facing her. Between them sat their allies, or representatives. It was fair to say that the people in this room could probably take over a respectably-sized nation, if they put some thought into it.

Jade and Devon faced each other, keeping the rumbling animosity between them to a simmer, instead of a full-blown boil-over. Hands gripped inside the sleeves of traditional cultivator robes instead of reaching for blows. How they maintained such a rivalry when they had met each other less than a handful of times, Laurel wasn't sure, but Devon was talented that way.

Two of the eastern clan leaders had arrived the week before, leading a brace of warriors that were currently giving her own sect a run for their money in the Arena. Both had greeted Martin with respect. No mention was made of what might have happened to their other visitors. They wore practical clothing, having spent weeks traveling through terrain with no regular trade routes. Laurel liked them already.

Oro was there as well, feeling nervous to her spiritual sense but doing an admirable job of keeping it off his face.

Others had sent representatives. Brandon was still refusing to leave his City, and had sent a representative instead, citing the short distance to Laskar and the need to act as a deterrent. Laurel had considered sending the young man away. Her trust in Brandon to do the right thing was thin to begin with, and had only grown more so with the passing years. He would fold like wet paper, and keeping his representative was just asking for their own plans to leak.

Sending him away would be even worse. A hurried discussion two weeks ago between herself and Martin had presented a solution. He would be staying as their guest until their plan was completed, for better or worse. The communication device he was hiding in his luggage would be donated to Devon for later study when it was time.

Chirefi's ambassador was a different story. He was as committed to anyone in standing against the Order, and had borne the brunt of their displeasure in attacks against his City as proof.

Their final invitee was missing. Zenia had walked off into the proverbial sunset years ago, and no attempt at contact had succeeded since. Chasing someone who had given up wasn't worth the time.

With a wave of her hand, Laurel summoned a map of the world, tossing one end so that it rolled across the table. It was the labor of years, mapping not just the political boundaries, but the mana network as well. Major flows were marked, along with any other points of interest, regions with plentiful natural treasures, and of course, settlements with Cores they considered allied. And those they decidedly did not.

"It's time to put the Order down," Laurel said to the room at large. "I propose here, here, and here." She pointed to the Cities she believed were their best chance. "The Order has been forced to spread out. Stars-cursed as they are with monster waves and beasts that can shrug off a bullet."

"That's what colonialism gets you," Jade muttered.

"We have a chance. Dariella Zaros. Vulurus. Saxton. Two of their best combatants and another one for free. If we take those out then –"

"Then there's still another nine master cultivators, in their own Cities, in their own defenses, surrounded by hundreds of brainwashed minions that will fling themselves in the line of fire. And the entirety of the Laskarian military, to keep things interesting" Devon interrupted.

"Yes," Laurel conceded. "But that's better than where we're at now. It will also cripple their ability to do almost anything. Laskar is barely holding on as it is."

"We are all barely holding on," said Chirefi's representative.

"Which is why we need to mix things up. If we're lucky, the Laskarians will have taken the bait, and run into where they think our Cities are undefended. That gives us an opening."

"I am worried about this one," the woman said, pointing at the second of Laurel's targets. "It is very close to Laskar City. Assuredly already under the capital's sway. There will be extra strength."

"That's the one we're taking," Martin said, gesturing over to Devon. "Some unfinished business with Dariella."

No one said anything, the silence as pointed as any blade.

"We weren't ready for her last time," Devon added. "I've had years to stock up."

"It won't go the same way. And her City is built on top of an old quarry. They may as well have invited me in." Martin's confidence, Laurel knew, wasn't entirely real. The margin would be slim, but it was doable/

"What do you wish of us?" One of the clan leaders asked. "You've already made your plan. We are not yet your equals in a fight, I doubt our strength would make much of a difference. And I will not throw away clan lives as a distraction."

"That's where phase two comes in," Laurel said. The next map was too delicate to treat with any sort of drama, so she unrolled it slowly. The thinnest rice paper money could buy, it was mostly translucent, and when rolled across the map underneath, a second set of markings showed up. In a light green ink, they only covered their allied territories.

"These are all of the infiltrators we've been able to pinpoint. Some are regular spies, but most are cultivators. They are marked in terms of value to us as targets."

"You hit their weak spots, and we clean out the rats that scurry behind," Breva said. "This is acceptable." Martin had been right, the clansfolk were great. Laurel nodded in thanks to the woman.

"We're agreed," Jade said. Her hand traced along southern Laskar, lingering on the jungle City that would be her own target.

"We are."

No Master cultivator could handle not having the last word. So despite the finality of Jade's declaration, Laurel was stuck in a meeting with the others for the rest of the day. It would have been nice to get a chance to watch her students perform, but she saw them clearly, even if they didn't do so themselves. She knew what the outcome would be before it had even started.

Discretion had her keeping that tidbit to herself over dinner, when the conquering heroes regaled the room with a blow by blow reenactment of their bouts.

Gabrielle launched a slow-moving kick, shoving Leander into a tumble and sprawl that was a little too perfect to be true to life. Laurel joined in on the applause anyway. It was a scene out of her own childhood. Fighting and winning and proving herself to her sect and in her own mind. Strangers became friends, rivals, pushing even further.

That night she went to bed with a smile.

Waking up the next morning was far less pleasant. Her nightmares had reappeared. Unsurprising when she spent the evening reminiscing about events that cemented her closest friendships.

In only a moment she shook off the melancholy. Today the real fun began. Battles with active techniques, and she needed to be on hand to assist.

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