The tour throughout Sorren’s Hollow was rather quick. First Faeril brought them to a cabin. It was a four-bedroom dwelling that was about twenty paces set back from the entrance road, and quite close to the inn. The next cabin was about the same distance away and didn’t look to be occupied.

“Four rooms?” Marron muttered then stared pointedly at Faeril. “Who are you expecting to share beds?”

“You and your sister?” Faeril laughed. “There’s another cabin free but it’s about three cabins over. You can split up your party however you want.” Then he said in a sly voice, “But you know, I didn’t think you’d want to split up considering the hostile welcome you got.”

Gwendith chimed in, “You can’t control your own people?”

Faeril shook his head. “We’re not the rulers here. It’s honestly just me and my Grampy that got trapped. Chaos, I wish I’d stayed home back then instead of coming with him,” he muttered. “Most of the people here are refugees, explorers from beyond the plane, or researchers such as the good Professor Sevier.”

“You’re not a Rumiga native?” Yuriko asked abruptly.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Are the two of you from the Belrath Xylarchy?”

“That nation of treehuggers? No, we’re not,” Faeril snorted. “Although there are several Sha’ledras tribes who live there.”

“Sha’ledras…?”

“Our race. Just as you are humans or the wolf-eared ones are called A’sunggit,” Faeril said easily. He nodded towards the cabin. “If you’d like you can freshen up first and we can meet for dinner at the dining hall. It’s the big pavilion near the beach. Over there.” He pointed towards the east. “You can’t miss it. Ah, may I assume you’re satisfied with this dwelling?”

“This is fine,” Marron said after a long moment. Yuriko nodded.

“Well, then, see you in a couple of hours.” Faeril waved goodbye and left.

“I will sleep in the living room,” Saki said after they entered the cabin. The structure was a low two-storey one with the ground floor sunk halfway into the earth. It contained the living and dining rooms, a kitchen, and a large toilet and bathroom. The upper floor had all four rooms, each with a nice enough bed, a wardrobe, and a vanity.

“You sure?” Yuriko asked.

“Yes, young mistress,” Saki answered with a smile.

There wasn’t really much to do. Yuriko was reluctant to leave any of her supplies in the cabin, and she was sure the others felt the same. She debated how it would reflect on her if she brought her backpack to dinner then decided she didn’t really care what they thought of her.

Alright, she did care a little bit. She felt her cheeks redden a little as the image of Faeril’s, and even Vaeril’s honestly, bare midriff flashed across her mind. Those were finely sculpted muscles, something she knew only the truly dedicated bodybuilders had. She’d certainly seen enough of them during her stay in Realmheart.

Every time she went home to Aerule Garden, dinner in the grand hall was accompanied by nearly naked performers. Acrobats, jugglers, strongmen…all sorts of handsome and well-built bodies, male and female, performed. She enjoyed the singers and some of the dances. The ones that weren’t erotic anyway. Most times, she spent dinner staring at her food and ignoring what happened around her.

Either way, Faeril’s physique was halfway between a show body and a functional one. Both he and his grandfather were slender as willows anyway.

In the end, she just splashed some water on her face to wash away the dust and went outside with all of her gear. Unsurprisingly, Marron did the same, but Gwendith was clad in fresh clothes and was unladen. She gazed disappointedly at Yuriko and her brother.

“Really? You’re violating the rules of hospitality. If you bring all that stuff to dinner, you’re practically telling them you don’t trust them not to steal it,” Gwendith huffed.

“Er, we don’t.” Yuriko protested.

“It’s a blatant accusation.” Gwendith poked Yuriko’s nose with her finger. “Put that stuff in your room and dress in something other than your travelling clothes. If you’re worried about your valuables, put them in your hip satchel or your safe pouch.”

“Oh, this is all I have,” Yuriko murmured.

“Then at least take off your overcoat. It’s actually warm in here, you know?”

It was, actually.. Yuriko half felt as if she was back in Kogasi’s cove.

“Alright,” she answered, realising that Gwendith was right anyway. Although this was only a temporary place to stay, it was only polite to act as a proper guest. She dropped her backpack in her room, no need to take anything from it since it only had clothes and ration bars anyway. She took off her overcoat and unbuttoned the upper part of her shirt, letting the ruffled collar open up. She did the same for her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows. She kept her Plasma Lancet and combat knife on her belt though.

The five of them went towards the east, and once they came close enough to see over the slope, they saw the beach and the sea.

Yuriko gaped at the sight. It was a sea complete with waves, sandy beach, and palm trees. The water stretched out an entire longstride or so, and at the far end was the cavern’s wall. She didn’t know where the water came from, if it was really stagnant or if it flowed under the cavern into an underground river or something. She could smell the same salty scent though.

“Wow,” Marron murmured, echoed by Desire and Gwendith. Saki just took a look and snorted.

“I’ve seen lovelier places in Aerule Garden,” Saki muttered.

Yuriko just nodded. That was true. Aerule had been all about aesthetics. From the dwellings amidst the giant trees, to the artwork, the furniture, and the people. The entire district had been too big to explore in the limited time she’d been there, of course, but Saki had lived there the majority of her life.

The beach pavilion was just a few paces from the path. It was mainly a roof supported by ornate pillars: no walls to let the sea breeze through. There were long tables and a stage on one end, and it was practically filled with people. There were other women there, Yuriko noted, though they were in the distinct minority. She spotted Edmund Sevier across a beefy-looking woman who wasn’t just taller than the professor, but wider too. She gestured emphatically with her fork, which had a bit of something on it, while Edmund jabbered away.

“I guess it's dinner,” Marron muttered. Nobody was dressed up, if anything, they were wearing sleeveless shirts and shorts, along with skimpy footwear that let them wiggle their bare toes in the sand.

Faeril and his grandfather were at one of the long tables at the far end, and the sharp-eyed young man spotted them easily. He waved and gestured to the empty bench beside him.

The five of them glanced at each other then shrugged before they trod down the sand-covered path.

________

Delran Greenfield watched Lucian Ward pace angrily across his living room. The Garamus warrior had spent the past hour and a half growling and ranting, saying something about an Imperial legionnaire and how they fought. And of course, how Lucian had been beaten after getting kicked in his tenders.

Delran stifled a snort of laughter, but from how the big man glared at him, he had been unsuccessful.

“I’m not joking, Delran,” he growled. “Your countrymen are here to ruin things!”

“You’re the one who threw the first blow, friend Lucian,” Delran said placatingly. “You’d hardly expect them to just sit still while you pummel them. You know how Imperial legionnaires are. They strike first, or retaliate first, before stopping to ask questions. And don’t call them my countrymen. I’ve long since forsaken my nation,” he added bitterly.

He had little choice but to do so. Forsaking oath and country had been necessary else the Threads would tangle him up and choke him to death.

He and a few others had left Rumiga City and sought sanctuary from the great Avos. They who had been here for millennia, even before the Empire had ensnared the plane, knew of the varied secret places and rituals to sever the binding Threads.

Avos Zarek had given them a passage to the depths, and then to this paradise. In exchange, they only had to do one thing.

Worship him.

Pray in thanks to his grace. Pray for his mercy, and pray for his prosperity.

And sacrifice Animus, of course.

He had never subscribed to the Church of the Everlasting Order. Not truly. Of course, he had to when he first underwent the Atavism Ritual. And he had to be a devout follower if he wanted to grow his Animus cap by drinking Zoi Elixirs. Those concoctions could only be made with the seeds of the Imperial Lotus, crushed and mixed with Chaos dust. A couple more ingredients were needed, though he wasn’t sure what. Jade had to do with it, but he knew that the Elixirs didn’t contain jade dust. That would have rocketed the price by a factor of thousands.

No, all that meant that the Imperial citizens couldn’t grow without the capital’s grace, and the veneer of autonomy granted to every plane within the territories was nothing more than a thin veil.

Taxes were a little short this year? Cut the Zoi Elixir supply by a third. Not enough jade shipped to the interior? Reduce the number of reagents needed to keep the infrastructure running. There’s a shortage of troops on another frontier? Transfer militia to the legion and ship them out.

Rumiga City also suffered from another ailment. There was no ruling prince, no Pia’Vasi that stood over the Imperial Bureaucracy. Instead, two dukedoms jostled for power, and their struggles trampled down on the innocent citizens.

He had been part of the group that tried to make things better. Instead, they had been stricken with a curse delivered through the very Threads of Fate that bound each of them together.

There had been no recourse but to sever them, even if he had to pay with his Heritage and his inlays. Now, he made do with what he could. There was no way he would taint his Anima by bonding with an item or a beast. And he wasn’t so barbaric as to take a dead thing’s Anima within him to grow and express his desires through it. No, he was an Imperial, and there must be another way to progress with the superior system without being beholden to the Empress.

Right now, all he had done was to recreate his old inlays and techniques, but the only one he’d been successful with was a variation of Empowered Strike and Protective Field.

“You were also part of the reason that the great Avos sent for help.” He shook his head. “Your rashness tripped an alarm. What could be behind that door you were trying to open anyway?”

Lucian glared back. “What else? Weapons and knowledge.”

He grunted. His hand lingered on a cylinder hanging from his waist. The weapon, well, more tool actually, aided in creating Animus constructs. When Lucian clipped on his bound bracers, it coated his body with both offensive and defensive constructs.

Delran preferred an Elemental Striker instead, much more useful and gave him a ranged option too.

“Behind that door…” Lucian murmured, “...lies the key. I suspect the control centre for the Warforged is there. With it, we can bring a swift end to the war between the Empire and the Federation.” He shook his head. “Avos Zarek shouldn’t have sent those Imperials. We’re strong enough here. We can close the gate again. Or better yet, we can go through it and access the controls!”

Delran shook his head. “Two years, Lucian. We’re being pushed back. We can barely fight off the Athrodius, and more of them come every Season.”

“I heard that the woman from the Empire managed to fight one off.”

“Which one?”

“The tall one.” Lucian frowned. “She was…strange. She had some kind of mental attack, allurement.”

“I don’t think the Warforged have emotions,” Delran said dryly.

“Edmund Sevier wouldn’t stop talking about the Imperial’s fight. Allein heard some of it in the pub. You know what this means?”

“That they have a chance to succeed?” Delran grunted, “I wouldn’t mind being able to leave. I’ve always wanted to see the rest of the Coalition territories.”

“Yes, that,” Lucian grunted. “But also, if they succeed and return to Rumiga’s surface, they’ll bring word of Synkrasia to the rest of their rotten government. They’ll know to look farther beneath them. If they take the treasures here…then Rumiga will be theirs.”

“So what do you propose?” Delran asked though he was afraid he knew the answer. Not that he would shy away from bloodshed.

“Well, let them do what they must. But,” Lucian’s eyes hardened, “They must not be allowed back to the surface.”

Delran leaned back on his chair for several minutes while Lucian resumed his pacing. Afterwards, he sighed. Then nodded.