'Fish don't fear the current, even when it pushes them into the jaws of the gator. When the current pulls, go with it.'

– Proverb of the Plutash peoples of the southern deltas.

There is some controversy around the translation of this proverb, with arguments that it is satirical in nature, meant to mock wise elders that council patience to the young. Others disagree, and suggest it is simply our own biases that prevent us from seeing the wisdom in it. The River-Runners were a collective culture, and so the sacrifice of one to maintain the status quo is not inherently evil as we would see it. A single fish can save the shoal, and to disrupt the current would be to change the river itself – it is a call for patience, for stepping back and seeing the wider picture. A confirmation that acting in one's own self-interest can be detrimental to the whole.

Considering that the tablet this proverb is traced from also contains several drawings of an oversized phallus with comically small testicles, I think it is safe to conclude the former interpretation is the correct one. Do not give the ancients credit they do not deserve – they were people just like us.

- Excerpt from 'historiography and the dangers of revisionism' by Scholar Rostruik Ibn-Falk.

*Nathlan*

Nathlan nearly burst through the billowing silk curtains separating the outside courtyard from the rest of the inn, positive he would find the man in the midst of a diplomatic incident, and keen to intervene before anyone took notice. He needn't have concerned himself though, and spent a moment regretting his uncharitable thoughts of his friend. It turns out Lamb wasn't an idiot after all.

Lamb was armed with his shield and practice spear, running through some strange kata that Nathlan didn't recognise. Not that he should, being a swordsman himself, but still, it was an unusual series of movements. The man did all of this in front of the tree that dominated the courtyard. It was old, gnarled, and sporting a truly astronomical number of branches from its thick trunk. Blue-green leaves hung in their multitudes from the branches, filtering the evening sun into a deeper, more mellow light that pooled around the roughly circular courtyard.

The courtyard itself was nestled into the side of the canyon, the inn behind it carved deep into the stone. Above and below, city streets crisscrossed the canyon walls, filling it with the sounds of a hundred thousand people living their lives. Their calling, shouting, laughing, crying, hooting and hollering, cheering and jeering, merry-making and commiserating; it all created a susurrating background to the scene, and Nathlan was struck by the moment.

The lean man straightened and turned towards Nathlan as he made his entrance, a dissatisfied set to his face.

"Thought you'd still be reading," he said with a slight inflection in his voice at the end, turning the statement into a question. Shadows scattered as he propped the spear against his shoulder with a neat spin, showing an easy familiarity with the weapon that had appeared over the last several weeks of training.

Nathlan reached back to retie his ponytail, a nervous gesture he'd had since a child and only recently started to allow once more. He still sometimes caught himself trying to still his hands before consciously allowing the tick. Leaving behind the viper's nest of his homeland would take more than physical distance.

"I had planned to, yes. But it was disappointing. I still have yet to read a comprehensive refutation of the underlying logic of The Scholar's thesis, if not a discussion of the historical record. I had hoped… anyway, I won't bore you with the details and ruin your evening, too."

He smiled at the shorter man and was gratified to see a grin split his face in return. Nathlan knew he wasn't the most sociable person in Tsanderos. His upbringing had given him the necessary skills to at least perform a role, but he'd never felt comfortable, despite outward appearances. Perhaps his thorough education was exactly why he shied away from genuine friendly interaction. Sculpting an heir was not an act of good-hearted charity, no matter what one said in public.

Regardless, his growing friendship with the newest addition to the group was at least out of reach of his past, if not untainted by it. Realising the gap in conversation was in danger of turning into a lull, he decided to ask Lamb what he was practicing.

"Ah yeah, that." He laughed. "It's funny, the more I practice, the more ridiculous some of the movements get. 'The Forgotten Spear' is the name of my weapons Skill, and sometimes I wonder if it was forgotten because it's not very efficient. How complex can you make a spear, anyway? Just poke them 'till they stop moving, right? But anyway, it's a spinning sequence meant to distract and obscure as I back away from one or two enemies."

"Are you not happy with your newest Skill?" Nathlan asked, surprised.

Lamb waved him off, though. "No, it's not that, as much as I like to grumble about it. I just feel a little behind the curve, you know?" He sighed, then continued in response Nathlan's gesture. "I'm barely stronger than you now, and that will change as soon as we face some real enemies again. You've got a lifetime of training and swordsmanship over me, and that will be true of many of the enemies I come to face. I've gotten by so far mostly with superior attributes or trickery."

Nathlan hummed to himself. "So get stronger then."

"Oh, simple as that, is it?" Lamb asked with a laugh. "Why did nobody tell me the trick to power was to just get it?"

"Get trickier, then," Nathlan retorted.

"Outsmarting a pig or a wolf is easier than a human, though. I even struggled with the skeletons, and they have literally no brains!"

They shared a laugh at his words as they sat on a low stone wall looking out over the beautiful view. They were known as the Copper Canyons for a reason, and the flowing layers of different coloured sediment that swirled through the rock caught the varied hues of gold, orange, pink and red, and threw them back out into the world in a kaleidoscope of colour richer than any jewellers could hope for.

"Weather will be lovely tomorrow," Lamb murmured.

"How do you know?"

"'Red sky at night, shepherd's delight.'" He recited, like age old wisdom.

Nathlan raised an eyebrow. "Did Jorge teach you that?" he asked.

"Nah, that's from…" the rugged man paused in thought for a moment. "Not sure where, honestly."

They sat in companionable silence for a while and watched the sunset. Eventually, Nathlan broke it. "So, what do we do now? Jorge and Vera will likely be out until late tomorrow, I expect."

Lamb didn't answer for a few moments, and then slapped his leg and stood up, turning to pierce Nathlan with an intense gaze. "You're going to help me become trickier," he replied, a triumphant smirk on his face.

*Lamb*

I watched in awe as Nathlan sketched out the design we'd spent the last few hours discussing. HI knew he was a scholar, but I'd never made the connection before between academic pursuits and a mastery of art. Mastery might be overstating things, but it seemed as if he could make the pencil draw what he had in his mind in a way that I was profoundly envious of. When I'd tried to draw the strange shield I'd been thinking of, it had come out like a wobbly circle with some cross-crossing lines along the edge and not much else.

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Nathlan's flippant response earlier had inspired me to what I was coming to think of as a great idea. I was right in that I couldn't simply get stronger, at least for now. Confined to the city as we were, there wouldn't be much danger and death that I could partake in – at least not in a way that didn't violate my ethics – and so I needed other advantages.

I already had an edge over many people in terms of what I was coming to think of as a 'will to violence'. I'd been in more life-and-death struggles than most soldiers twice my age, and when it came time to put my life on the line, I had no issues with hesitation or half measures. I also had an impressive physicality for my level. On their own, that might be enough to overcome and surprise most people of a similar level… but I wasn't worried about a couple of mid-range 1st tier fighters.

I wanted to hold my own against whoever I came across, and while I had no pretentions of challenging 3rd and 4th tiers, or even a competent 2nd tier, I wanted to be powerful for my level. More honestly though, I think I just didn't want to be left behind.

I couldn't replicate Nathlan's lifetime of swordsmanship with pure hard work. Sometimes, you had to be realistic. There was an implicit understanding of angles of attack and patterns of movement, reach and distance, that one acquired by fighting and training, and that was a huge advantage. Some of the fancier moves that The Forgotten Spear utilised were not optimal in terms of angles and efficiency, but they were used to disguise the true strike, to confuse and surprise an opponent so that they couldn't be sure what range I was working at.

And that had got me thinking; how else could I surprise an opponent?

Nathlan and I had then spent a few hours brainstorming. I had two ideas in mind. First, I wanted to play about with the reach of my weapon. Some sort of spring-loaded contraption to add an extra foot of length to my spear, mid-combat. Second, I wanted more avenues through which I could snare an opponent's weapon. We'd discussed spikes, horns, strips of leather and all sorts to make the shield difficult to manoeuvre around, but in the end had come down to a similar spring-loaded contraption that could shrink and expand the edge of the shield.

It had honestly started out as a bit of fun day-dreaming, since I was convinced it couldn't work, but Nathlan had tackled the problem as he did with anything – dogged determination and parchment. Except wilderness survival of course, that he utterly failed at every time, much to Jorge's consternation.

Now though, as I watched my silly idea come alive on the parchment before me, Nathlan tracing a complex set of design into reality, I began to get truly excited. They weren't true blueprints, of course. Neither of us were engineers or blacksmiths – we had no real idea how it would work – but Nathlan had created drawings that showed exactly what we wanted. The shield split like a tangerine into segments, with each segment being able to extend or lower independently of the others. The spear was simpler to draw, but still, it looked a damned sight better than my stick-figure drawing from earlier.

Once done, I was the proud new owner of some sketches, and now I only needed to wait until Jorge or Vera returned to head out into the city and find myself a blacksmith of suitable skill and affordability that could create what I wanted. Nathlan had assured me that Jorge had the funds and would likely be thrilled with the idea, especially considering how the weapons would synergise with my Improvised Weapons sub-Skill.

The tall man stretched his back out with a wince from where he had been hunched over the small table in our room and hid a yawn.

"I am heading back downstairs to swing by the kitchen," Nathlan began, trying for a casual air that was so clearly forced I couldn't help but pay attention. "Would you like me to request anything for you while I am there?"

I grinned. "Oh no. I think that was an offer only open to you, my friend," I said with a wink.

Nathlan winced, and it turned my chuckle into a true laugh as the gangly scholar scurried out of the room, attempting to hide his blush. He was so confident in certain matters, and yet the subject of romance could turn the man's ears pink with a mere mention.

Still, I wished him well. It was obvious enough from the looks him and the waiter had shot each other earlier that they were both interested, so I resolved to pester him about it tomorrow if he tried to wimp out. Sometimes people simply needed a little encouragement.

*Nathlan*

A few heavy thuds echoed on the door to his room, and Nathlan reluctantly pulled his head from the book he was devouring. He sighed as he rose to his feet and moved to answer the door. He absently rubbed at his hair, trying to hide the evidence of his earlier nap half-heartedly before giving up. The bed was thoroughly rumpled anyway, so there wasn't much point to the gesture. Besides, what was wrong with the occasional nap? Every scholar of renown was famous for them.

Lamb practically barged through the door the moment Nathlan had unlocked the deadbolt, shining with so much enthusiasm that he looked like he had two bonfires in his head instead of eyes. He seemed poised to vomit whatever had got him so worked up all over Nathlan in a cascade of eager words, before he hesitated.

Nathlan watched as Lamb's eyes darted from his sleep-mussed hair – half of it completely free from its usual restrained pony-tail – to the messy bed and the pillow on the floor, and finally down to Nathlan's sleeping attire. He grinned conspiratorially, and suddenly it was as if whatever enormous news had him so excited was completely forgotten.

Nathlan felt a sinking sensation in his chest as he heard the forced aloofness in Lamb's tone as he asked, "Sharmelle mentioned that they were short-staffed in the kitchens this morning… you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He sighed, knowing what was coming and deciding to head off the discussion before Lamb could embarrass him further. He'd stayed up too late reading, and so when Lamb had left him alone at mid-morning to get some practice in, he'd decided to have a tactical nap. He should have known it would be taken for more than simply sleep deprivation given Lamb's parting comments about 'giving him space in case Kal was working again'.

"No Lamb, I had nothing to do with that. Kal had to leave early to sort things for the end of the festival tomorrow afternoon."

His friend's face crumpled for a moment. "Ah, I'm sorry Nathlan. I didn't think. Never mind. Fuck that guy, right? He doesn't know what he's missing."

Lamb then moved to give him a hearty clap on the back, which he avoided expertly. "Thank you for your kind words, but there is no need for that. Kal is a lovely man, and we will be going for a drink in a couple of days after the Remembrance has cleared up. It should also be enough time for Vera to confirm if we are safe to wander the city, which is a bonus. He simply had to leave early."

The tall man raised an eyebrow, before indicating the bed. "And all this is… what? The result of a particularly aggressive nap?" Scepticism was clear in his voice.

Nathlan dew himself up to his full height before quoting; "A hard sleep is the sign of a working mind."

"Oh aye, I can see that your mind must have been racing, then. No doubt a certain dashing waiter featured prominently in those thoughts, too…"

Nathlan didn't dignify that with a response, simply raising an eyebrow to show how completely unphased he was by the implication. "Enough nonsense. What had you so excited that you practically broke the door down?"

Lamb still had a self-satisfied smirk, confirming he knew he'd gotten under Nathlan's skin, but as he settled down on the bed and dug into a barely touched plate of fruit, the gleam came back into his eye once more.

"Jorge is back, and we have the all-clear to travel!" Lamb practically shouted. Nathlan nodded, pulling on his robes as he prepared to head downstairs and meet the man for breakfast, but Lamb continued on all the while. "He said we should stay within the sixth and seventh layers, but that we could roam 'to our hearts content' given that Vera will be busy for a day or two. He's also reviewed our sketches, made a few notes, and pointed me in the direction of a woman who might be able to help! And he's said he'll cover the expense!"

Nathlan took his time getting his things together, slowing ever so slightly just to wind up the irascible man. He took care to gather his equipment, sheathe and bind his weapon, clean his teeth and wash his face, all while Lamb bounced off the walls and paced around with unrestrained impatience.

"Did he mention anything else about the state of the city?" Nathlan asked calmly as he busied himself with inconsequential tasks.

"Yep!" Lamb replied cheerily. "Said it's all good. The hellspawn are a problem, but the guard's handling it, and he already mentioned that before we got here anyway, so no worries on that front. He did say that some mercenary bands and criminal rings are growing bolder because of the reduced presence of the guard, but I doubt we need to worry ourselves with that. Come on!"

Nathlan eventually relented in the face of the puppy-like enthusiasm and allowed himself to be hurried out of the door. It was strange and a little funny to see the almost childlike exuberance on his friend's face at the prospect of getting his hands on new weapons of war. Perhaps helping Lamb become 'more tricky', as he put it, wasn't necessarily the smartest idea?

But then again, Nathlan had always considered himself smart, and none of his decisions ever seemed to be good ones, so who was he to argue?

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