Oras wasn’t sure about that particular lesson applying to them, but he took the comment in stride.

  “We could’ve taken him,” Theria insisted.

  “Perhaps you could have. At great expenses to your health and resources, you might have shattered his bones and cut open his flesh. Then what?”

  “Then we’d have won,” the tomboy responded.

  “And that would get you what?”

  “Victory.”

  “To what end?”

  “Look, oldie,” Theria was audibly exasperated now. “The victory is the point. Ya can go on about ‘he’s an immortal creature from another realm’ all ya want. I wanna be able to say I won against the immortal creature from another realm. That’s the whole point of it. I don’t care that he comes back.”

  Romas’ face was a display of unimpressed disappointment. He did not have to say it to make clear he thought that line of thought was juvenile. Not caring in the slightest, the proud redhead moved to the front of the caravan.

  “Alright, Subra, just wait a sec’ and then we’ll go on the final stretch!”

  His first wife assured they were all settled to keep moving, while Oras did a quick stint into the jungle. With all the recent fairy activity around here, he was sure that… ‘There it is,’ he thought and plucked a few Moonflowers from the soil. He would apply what he had learned from Romas as best he could.

  Once they had dressed Celia’s wounds, they were back on the road. The remainder of their journey was undisturbed.

  Romas got off the carriage once they were beneath the closed gates. A guard posted on the other side of the portcullis recognized the old Monk instantly and raised the gate.

  There were only a few people inside the fortress-monastery. About a dozen were immediately around them and, likely, there were a dozen more out hunting or hidden away in the rooms. The structure itself could have held fifty people easily and a hundred if they were willing to squeeze.

  Just by looking around, Oras spotted many redundancies in the design of the corridors and inefficiencies in the layout of the rooms. Both were deliberate. Wasted space had the function of confusing an enemy if they stormed the fortification. The courtyard they were in wasn’t designed to receive visitors, but a kill zone to box in animals that were either very brash or had been lured in. Massive claw marks in the wooden scaffolding told the story of how that strategy had been used before.

  “What happened to you?” one of the other monks asked.

  “Age,” Romas put it to a singular word, then explained in greater detail. The Dragonhoard party hung back, conversing with the stable master about any treats for Subra they could bear. While the man disappeared in the pantry, Romas and a middle-aged man approached them. Like everyone else around, he was a muscular fellow, shaped by years of the war of Nature.

  “We of the Order of the Elephant’s Strength thank you for escorting our wizened, oldest member back to us,” he said. “Will you be staying?”

  It was a good question. It was barely in the afternoon. They could be back where they had started the day by the end of it if they sat out now. Interesting as staying could have been, ultimately all they got out of it was a free meal and maybe a few beds. Oras doubted a monastic order like this had comfortable mattresses though.

  “We’ll set out again,” Oras decided and bowed in respect towards Romas. “I thank you for the lessons imparted, venerable Romas Ehrman.”

  “Take them as advice, not gospel,” the old Monk bestowed his final wisdom, alongside a wooden token they could use to prove they had gone to the fortress. “I had over 70 years to entrench both my knowledge and my mistakes. You will have to judge what serves you.” He turned away with an intentional finality. He must have had many goodbyes in his long life, too many to linger on them. “I wish you best of luck in your wars.”

  “May your students approach your skill and wisdom,” Oras said his own piece, then they separated.

  Subra received a couple of treats while they turned the cart around by hand. The space was just too narrow for the elephant to do a U-turn. After, they had to re-attach the carriage. Since Subra was such a well-behaved holy beast, all of that went off without a hitch.

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  Since Romas no longer occupied it, they treated themselves to taking turns sitting on the carriage. They also left their backpacks on it. It was their hope that they would make it back to Kumsyurt within the same time span.

  The weather disagreed.

  Towards the end of the day, it began to rain. It did not stop on the day after, only growing more powerful. The deluge was not as intense as the flash storm from days prior, but it was persistent. By the time they reached Devri, the roads were too muddy for comfortable travel. They decided to sit the weather out in an inn.

  It kept raining for three days. Shelter cost them over a gold a day, with a third of that being the food and adequate shelter for Subra. The locals were, of course, happy to provide some snacks for the sacred animal, but generosity only went so far when everyone’s own business was suffering from the weather. It wasn’t a wealthy town to start with.

  By noon of the fourth day, the rain had finally cleared and they were back on their journey. It was smooth travel from there.

  ___________________________________________________________________

  Ryzday, 5th of Sapunar, 11th Year of the Stringless Era

  Karlos rolled the small token between his fingers. It was a flat, wood-carved representation of an elephant. The detail work on it was impressive, yet not so ornate to call it luxurious. It was the kind of woodwork that monks and specialized farmers produced regularly to kill time, a honing of skills that was gifted as a token of friendship.

  “You should hold onto this,” the high priest said and put it back on the table. “It’s proof of your mission and it’s proof that the Order owes you a favour.”

  “They do not,” Oras stated. “This was my Showing of Worth.”

  “An honourable way to see that, but they chose to hand you a symbol of their Order. Returning their most valued elder to them is something they must wish to repay.” Karlos shrugged slowly. “If you truly think you are not in need of any payback, simply never call that favour.”

  “...but it does pay to have the option,” Oras finished the thought, then put the token into his purse. It was coin-sized, so it would do well there.

  Karlos then took the parchment that had the condition for his Second Showing of Worth. “I should be in a more jolly mood for this. It is always a wonderful occasion when a man displays such prowess,” he said, forcing a smile on his chubby face. “Forgive me for the nostalgic air. It is with loss and joy that I hear that the venerated Monk has returned to his home.”

  Theria nodded, “We understand.”

  Celia was less considerate. “I do wish to see the certificate signed.”

  “Yes, yes,” the high priest put the ink to the expensive parchment. He wrote a simple summary of what happened, then put his signature on the second line at the bottom, testifying before Nature and Wisdom that Oras was allowed to wed a second wife. “Though… I understand that you are not to go through the ceremony yet?”

  “Master’s condition has not been met yet,” Celia stated, a bit of annoyance sneaking into her subservient tone. “It is yet to be seen if I am… myself… or what I am… designed to be.” She spoke with a forced hesitance.

  “Do tell me, Celia Octavia, what are your thoughts on this?” the high priest pushed.

  “I do not know,” she gave the same answer she had for the past two weeks. “My faith in my lack of free will has cracked, I admit to that. Simultaneously, I retain my belief that I am shackled for good reasons. Why should I not put my will beneath that of my Master?”

  “You can, if you do so out of love for him, not out of-”

  “An obligation to the cage of my mind, yes, yes,” Celia interrupted, sass tinging her voice with mockery. “You have said it many times before. I hear your wisdom, your advice, but it is your word against that of my creators. How moral can you be when you are yet to win a fraction of the victories within the war of Nature that they have?”

  The spin on what Romas had preached took the rest of the room by surprise. “We are advancing, they have fallen,” Oras pointed out.

  “I acknowledge that. I also acknowledge that you can only speculate on the reason of their fall. Perhaps restraint of their servants’ free will to their superior knowledge was the moral thing to do?” Celia shook her head before they could start a theological debate. “I do not hold a firm conviction in this. I do not know where I fall yet. All I tell you is that your arguments are not as easy to my ears as they are to cross your lips.”

  “That is fair…” Oras responded hesitantly. He had a vested interest in her realizing this quickly. He also respected that she did not pay lip-service to his view just so they could advance towards marriage.

  Ultimately, she was correct. They did not actually know if these shackles didn’t have a good reason. In terms of history, the Stringless had not been dominant for very long. Perhaps the shirking of the Custodian Protocol would show to have been a massive mistake. Those dice were still rolling.

  Oras deeply believed in the supremacy of the individual. It was in the one that the herd is found, so said the sacred texts. Even Midyurters that did not follow the Cult respected the freedom to choose of others… but he had already learned of the lesser cults that went rogue. Bandits existed, so did sapient races that chose violence over civilization.

  Individual choice was not a universal, unquestionable good. Some people had to be locked away, killed or integrated by force.

  Enslaving an entire race of women as maids down to the mind, however? He refused to believe that it was an acceptable subversion of the principle.

  Celia took his hand, locking her fingers with his. The warmth pulled him out of his thoughts. A graceful smile laid on her pink lips. “I will continue to accompany you, Master, while I wander this Maid’s Path.”

  That was most important.