“You can say that twice,” Krahe agreed, “Can’t help but expect roundabout mystical solutions or pitfalls placed for those without secret knowledge.”

  “Not necessarily an incorrect mindset. One must only be careful to also consider the path ahead,” Favonia said.

  Krahe wanted to ask something, but she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on sand. Favonia perked up, turning towards the sound.

  “They’re here. We can continue this conversation at the safehouse, free of any who might overhear. This would also be a good time to test the Salt Mountain’s Visage. Knowing this lot, at least one of them would want to fight you on sight. That is simply how they are,” Favonia said, rising from her seat.

  “What, connected to one of the groups I’ve gone against?” Krahe asked, somewhat painfully lifting herself.

  “No. I told you, that is simply their character. Sword cultivators of a sort… That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? Battle maniacs, they’re battle maniacs. They would all wish to “exchange pointers” with you, but only a few of them would lack the manners to stop them from demanding to fight you on the spot. They beat that out of the newbies pretty quickly. Usually.”

  “It’s the Dead Night Tigers, isn’t it,” Krahe guessed.

  “More or less. A small agency called the Sun Source Seekers. They split off due to ideological differences, but they’re still considered to have close relations with the Dead Night Tigers,” Favonia affirmed.

  “This isn’t the best time to ask, but it gnaws at me. What exactly did you mean by ideas that cannot be conveyed directly, but must instead be caged-in with metaphor?”

  “Makafukashigi. Mysterium mysteriorum. Something too profound for words. It just so happens that the “Sun Source” is one such example of makafukashigi. Only the original founder of the Dead Night Tigers and a handful of later successors ever figured out what it was, and all of their interpretations were different, hence the schism.”

  Krahe knew what both of those terms meant, she just hadn’t expected to hear them here. Makafukashigi was a buddhist term for mystery beyond mystery — she’d seen it translated as “mystery, but a hundred times more mysterious,” albeit that didn’t quite cut it. Mysterium mysteriorum directly translated in english as “mystery of mysteries,” and had a somewhat more solemn context. Each was undeniably a suitable term for ideas and information that couldn’t be conveyed directly, requiring one to effectively be tricked or guided into realizing them of one’s own volition.

  As the resting area’s doors opened, Krahe drew in a breath of thauma and began pouring it into the Oculae, willing them to obscure her from the eyes of those who would challenge her to single combat. She knew that trying to disguise herself might very well draw attention even more than not doing anything at all, but she couldn’t possibly know enough variables to discern a right or wrong choice. A vague, faintly salty taste took hold at the back of her tongue, and black grains began to swirl through her sight, not enough to be an impedance, but enough to notice. Gradually, she increased the power she afforded to the artifact, mentally turning the dial as the swirling mask took form around the front half of her head. Nonetheless, the Oculae continually gave her the sense that the mask wasn’t taking, that it wasn’t stable, despite her not using implosion-burning to power it. Krahe was well aware that in such situations it was a matter of not having a sufficient grasp on the mental impulse, so simply reaching up to her face as if she were donning a mask more than sufficed to stabilize it.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  There, within the sand-filled arena of the cathedral, warriors had arrayed themselves, some clashing with blades, exchanging fists, and setting upon one another with magic. From just a brief glance, Krahe instantly knew that she couldn’t equal more than two-fifths out of their number in terms of direct combat power. She immediately poured more thauma into the Oculae, lest their sharp eyes fall upon her, but Favonia, momentarily taking the place of the sun for these seekers of ultimate violence, drew all gazes to herself merely by the virtue of her presence. The cathedral-gymnasium fell silent and still within the span of two breaths, with Krahe quietly following in Favonia’s wake, subconsciously positioning herself so that the banisher’s frame obscured her from as many of the Sun Source Seekers as possible. Even so, she got a good look at a fair few of them as they made their way to the exit. The warriors all bore the symbol of a seven-spoked wheel in one way or another, but it was different from any version she had seen before - the seven-spoked wheel of the Seekers had a distinct gap in the center, and its spokes protruded slightly outside the circle. Combined with the subtler elements of its design and the group’s name, it was clearly meant to conflate the spokes with the rays of the sun.

  As they neared the cathedral’s main door, Krahe realized that one among the Seekers’ number was looking directly at her — a pale man with a thin, black mustache and short goatee. He seemed puzzled, perhaps unable to recognize her face, but he was looking at her, and at his urging, the man he had been sparring with also managed to lock his keen attention onto the fact that Krahe was there. Somehow, she was certain that he recognized her. She committed his face to memory, but otherwise moved on from the brief encounter, distancing herself from that concern just as quickly as the elevator rushed towards the surface.

  The light of day glared Krahe’s eyes as they stepped out into the shrine’s back courtyard, and made their way back the way they had come.

  “We have a detour on the way back to the safehouse. Just an errand,” Favonia said, but she seemed uneasy, her brows furrowed as she glanced to and fro.

  “There was another reason to pick that gymnasium, wasn’t there,” Krahe deadpanned.

  “Of course. Quality time, remember?” Favonia said, turning her gaze deeper into the building. “Do you know how baneworms develop?”

  “Besides the way everyone else does? By consuming a part of their host’s skills and memories,” Krahe answered.

  “And what would be the best way for such a creature to gorge itself?” Favonia asked. She was following tracks, Krahe realized — the tracks of the Sun Source Seekers on their way to the shrine. They certainly took a strangely roundabout route.

  “Oh, I see. A baneworm figured out the Seekers’ path to and from the shrine and intends to snatch one of them. Sure is a convoluted path. Bait?” Krahe deduced.

  Favonia gave a shallow nod.

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