Calvin lowered his visor, the furry rodent underneath him twitching nervously in anticipation of the charge.

It was time for the joust.

He raised his broccoli to waist level and took solid aim at his opponent across the way. The man bore a wickedly sharp lance that seemed to warp space around it until it wound up being an inverted cone.

I hope I can win this, Calvin thought, eyes narrowing. The fate of the world was a steak, sitting off to the side. It bore the signature of local government.

He dug his heels into the rodent’s sides, sending it scurrying forward with a squeak.

His opponent did the same, the faceless man on the faceless guar spurring into action.

Right at their finest moment, Kala descended from the sky, and landed delicately into his ‘dream’.

Beneath her feet, the chaotic, ever-shifting background of Calvin’s Shadowboxing stabilized, spreading outward until they were in Deinos.

“What kind of dream is this?” Kala asked, glancing around with disbelief.

“You know,” Calvin said with a shrug, lifting his visor and taking a bite of his lance. “The usual.”

With Meditation, Calvin had found a way to sufficiently scatter the individual processes of his brain so thoroughly that he was essentially unconscious. When linked to shadowboxing it became an excellent dream-substitute.

Upon Kala’s arrival, Calvin’s most aware part of himself scraped the rest of him together, gradually gaining focus and context.

“How’s it going in the March, doll?”

“We just got through the girl’s third break, and they’re becoming incredibly unruly. Hellions, even. We can barely keep them under control, they’ve taken to working together to undermine us, and a few of them have even guessed the some of the purpose behind their training and have sworn to overthrow you.”

She was complaining, but her face said she was happy with their progress.

“Well that’s excellent,” Calvin said with a genuine smile. “I’d love to see how much longer they keep that attitude when we send them back to Juntai, where they’re property.”

“They’re still children,” Kala said with a gentle smile. “They’ll thank us when they’re older.”

“You’re both still children,” The faceless knight said, sliding his visor up to reveal Elliot’s pale visage.

“How long were you there?” Calvin demanded.

“Idunno, your dream isn’t it?” Elliot reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a bar in a brown wrapper and bit into it, rolling his eyes in pleasure.

“Ignore him,” Kala said with a sour glance at Elliot. “Something happened today that surprised me.”

“Surprised you?” Calvin asked.

Rather than answer, Kala turned aside and waved a hand, seizing temporary control over Shadowboxing.

The ground to the side of them took on a marble finish around a circular hole in the ground, covered by a grate. Around it, semi-transparent walls of gold-laced stone.

“Is that the temple?”Calvin asked. “What-“

Before he could finish his question, there was an eruption of Warp from the hole in the ground, so thick he could practically see it.

A few moments later, a hand emerged from inside the grate, fumbling around until it touched the lock keeping the grate closed. In a matter of seconds, another hand emerged and picked the lock, swinging the grate out of the way to reveal…

“Your ex-boyfriend?” Calvin said, inspecting the young Bolesian man. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a long while.

“Suitor,” Kala said, crossing her arms and scowling at him. “Not boyfriend.”

“There was a temporary dip in the Warp before this point, so we think something he did in there caused a temporary blockage.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to check it out.” He couldn’t simply assume the problem had been completely solved. Matter of fact, there was a good chance there had been some kind of sabotage.

Why Tzen was coming after him when he should be fleeing to his own country as fast as his Bolesian legs would carry him was a different story.

“I think what you guys should be asking is how he got out.” Elliot said. “I thought it was Ravagers and Harbingers only.”

Interesting. Calvin thought, frowning as the view followed Tzen as he staggered out through the large stone door into the third layer of the temple, where Kala and Learner were conducting a class with the ninety-odd young women.

“Good afternoon,” Tzen said, bowing. “Would any of you young ladies be interested in fetching some water in exchange for a gold…cufflink…”

Tzen collapsed, the gold cufflink spilling out of his hand.

“So where is he now?”

“I arrested him.” Kala said with a shrug.

“Did you get his story?”

“His story is he broke into the Filter in order to, and I qoute, ‘gain the power to take control of his destiny’, but got stuck down there for over a week until he was able to escape by hitting buttons on the console.

“Bullshit,” Elliot said. “Odds of that happening are in the billions to one range. Maybe lower. Only way he got out of there is if he knew the password, or was a Ravager.”

“From what I could tell, his story is mostly true, but there’s a few parts he skims over.” Kala said with a shrug.

Calvin frowned. He remembered Tzen was a member of the ruling clan in Boles.

The ruling clan was currently embroiled in a massive civil war creating an avalanche of refugees stripping the countryside of food and resources.

There’s gotta be a way to use this.

“Make sure he doesn’t have some kind of secret agenda against me, then I’ll bring him up to Boles.”

“Why’s that?”

“Without Tzen, I don’t have any good reason to push my influence further into Boles, but if I’m delivering the crown prince back to his people in the middle of their time of need…”

“You’re actually starting to sound like one of those old men.” Kala sighed, shaking her head.

Calvin wiggled his eyebrows. “You like it?”

“It makes you sound like my dad.”

Calvin glanced off to the side, then back to his wife.

“You like it?” he asked again, wiggling his eyebrows harder.

Kala kicked him in the shin, smirking.

***

Calvin leapt out of bed, clutching his shin, the pain of the dream rapidly diminishing.

“Whew.”

A moment later, there was a quiet, polite knock at the door. Calvin glanced over at Ella, who grumbled and cocooned herself in the sheets, shutting out the outside world.

“Yes?” Kurawe answered the door while Calvin tugged his pants on.

“My lord requests the presence of your master to discuss the details of the lease agreement.”

Oh gods, this is going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. I wish there was a way to skip this.

But no, Calvin was an adult, and he would press on through the boring tedium of trade agreements, no matter how much he wanted to light them on fire.

He glanced at Ella, still comfortable and safe from the world of dry legislation.

I’ll suffer, so you don’t have to, he thought, kissing her forehead.

“Stop stalling, go do your job,” Ella muttered, eyes squeezed tight. “Kala’s visiting.”

“You’re making it hard to be selfless about this.” Calvin muttered, eyeing her.

***Tzen Chu, Imperial Prince***

Here we are in prison again, Tzen thought, idly folding his thumbs over each other.

Thankfully I’m alone again.

He was still alive, once again fully in control of himself, and had even come away with a Break and expanded Skill set. It wasn’t a marriage to the crown princess of Gadvera, but it was something.

I wonder though, will the princess send me back to Gadvera as a gilded hostage? While everyone knew he had nothing to do with her attempted assassination, he was still held responsible.

And he had obviously been trespassing on a very secure place. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if they decided to quietly dispose of him.

Still, Tzen rationalized his value as a hostage was probably greater. Everyone already knew about the siphon in the temple. He hoped they would simply let him go, but he’d found that what he hoped for and what actually happened were rarely similar.

A few hours of quiet contemplation later, a young GAdveran woman descended the stairs. Tzen recognized her instantly.

He opened his mouth to speak, before catching himself. He did not recognize her. The girl’s face looked nearly identical to Kala’s aside from slightly fuller lips, held partially open. Her body was wildly different, every aspect a subtle exaggeration of the female form that nearly spilled out of her dress.

It was distracting.

Which is the point, I suppose, he thought, forcing himself to focus on her face. He’d met illusionists before, no need to let them make an uncultured swine of him.

“Good Evening,” Tzen guessed. “Inform your master I require better accommodations, as this is an unfitting room for one of my status.” His cell was made of stone and while it was dry and warm enough, it was fairly bland, with nothing in the way of reading or writing utensils.

If he could get something to write with, perhaps he could train a bird to carry a message to the nearest bolesian city. There, power-hungry nobles would conspire to rescue him and get in his good graces…or that of his brother.

In either case, they would provide him the opportunity to finally leave these savage lands and make his way back to his home.

They were in Calvin’s March, so Boles was only…two thousand miles away.

Damn.

The woman blinked, frowning at him, the notepad tucked in her arm and pencil in her ear were dead giveaways of her status. She was most likely a servant, or with that body, a concubine with a flair for art.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice resonating through the air and hitting a specific chord in his brain that triggered something primal and animalistic inside him, sending tingles up his spine and into the back of his neck.

Not an illusionist. This is something different.

He was so caught up in trying to divine her purpose that he nearly missed her question.

“I don’t have much data on Bolesian men, I was hoping you would disrobe so I can do a quick sketch.” She said, pulling up a stool.

Tzen had to process that three times before he was able to understand exactly what she was trying to say.

Is this some kind of tactic to dehumanize or humiliate me? He thought. As far as they went, it was mild. Wouldn’t they normally strip him themselves then parade him through the streets to break his will?

The plan could be to incite a strong emotional response that they can capitalize on. He had long since learned how to deal with those kinds of tactics. He simply agreed to their requests immediately without a hint of shame and they would gain nothing over him. He could recover his pride afterwards.

He glanced to the pen in her hand, then to her expectant gaze. What’s the worst that could happen? Copies of my amazing figure get printed around the world? I could live with that.

“Sure,” Tzen said, slipping his shoulder out of his vest. “I’ll allow your eyes the honor of gazing upon me.”

He disrobed and leaned against the bench, assuming an attractive pose that he could hold for hours if he had to. His muscles rippled as he waited. The seven days without food had highlighted his definition rather well. Might as well take advantage of it.

“Subject suffered signs of diminished size, physiological signs point to this being stress-related.”

What?

“The facial symmetry and teeth imply a balanced diet, however,” She said, scribbling in her notebook while eyeing him impassively.

“Were your parents well-to-do?” She asked.

Her clinical dissection of his health made him cover himself reflexively. This was going further than he’d expected.

“I am an imperial prince, I don’t have to-” Tzen responded.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I suppose I still need samples from the lower class bolesians.” She muttered, jotting down a note before she glanced up.

“Can I give you a physical and perhaps some minor vivisection? I’m interested to see if there’s any difference between your internal organs and those of other humans.”

“…No.”

“Shame,” She said, her pen making quick strokes on the paper. She finished her drawing a half hour later, taking up three pages of her notebook as she took notes on every aspect of his physical appearance from the state of the soles of his feet, to the lack of callous on his palm and slight bend of his pinky finger.

At the end of the ordeal, she tore out the three pages and slipped them through the bars of his cell.

“Your copy,” She said, handing him the three pages with lifelike drawings of his naked body, littered with dry commentary around the edges.

“I’ve already got mine,” She said, tapping her skull meaningfully before turning away, leaving Tzen utterly confused and feeling mildly taken advantage of.

“Oh,” She said, turning to gaze at him as she left. “And my brain likes your abs. She says they’re ‘hawt’.” She said, giving him a thumbs-up.

What on earth did I just meet? Tzen thought to himself. Whatever had been in the room with him…was too human to be human. Her body was flawless, and it was real, from the way she interacted with the environment.

And nobody with a sane mind offers a vivisection offhand.

Well, whatever. All the more reason to get the Abyss out of here.

Tzen was halfway through getting dressed when the girl came back – no, it’s Kala – , holding the keys to his cell in her delicate palm.

“Good evening prince Tzen, I see you met Learner.”

“Was that her name?” Tzen asked, sliding his clothes over his shoulder.

“Indeed. You handled her invasive curiosity with remarkable grace.”

Tzen snorted. “That is nothing for me.”

“Good, good,” The Gadveran princess said, spinning the keys to the cell on her finger as a mischievous smile spread across her face. It was intriguing to see a woman’s smile. Rude, but intriguing.

“Since you didn’t actually cause any damage to the Filter and we both know you didn’t really try to kill me, I’m going be generous and let you go on your way today.”

“Really? On what condition?” Tzen asked, crossing his arms. Nothing was free.

“Give a lecture on Bolesian social engineering to nearly a hundred unruly pubescent girls.”

Humiliation after humiliation. Still, if the dusky-skinned princess was as good as her word, he’d be on the road to home for the first time in nearly a year. He stood to lose nothing but an evening.

“Fine.”