I didn’t get to have a servitor pokemon battle and I didn't have to summon Ludj to my aid again. Reaper Niels could somehow tell exactly how powerful my lovely Gardener was in terms of biting people in half. Probably biting a celesteel knife in twain had something to do with that. Or maybe he actually believed my beautifully concocted pile of deception. Maybe he was afraid that the greater authority of High-Administrator Han was right behind me and if anything were to happen to Han’s personal disciple, the entirety of the cult would respond in turn.

Celes quietly approached me, tore a piece from her robe and bandaged up my forehead, which was apparently bleeding much worse than I realised. I gave her the briefest smile and turned back to Niels.

“My personal geisha has a servitor too, you know,” I nodded at Celes. “You can’t hope to win against two phantoms.”

The Reaper saw the depths of reason within my words. He lowered his head and finally got on his knees.

“What is your desire, Mistress?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

I walked closer to him. “Firstly, thank you for your respect. Secondly, I’m taking over the Hand gang.”

“The divine-touched wish to meddle with the mundane affairs of our simple Guild?” Niels raised his head.

“Things are changing round’ these parts, my good barber,” I dramatically waved my arm, ignoring the severe headache in my scars brought on by being within Ludj. I had to prove that Ludj was mine - true servitors couldn't hurt their masters, could pass through them with ease. High-Servitors merged with their Masters and gave them incredible beastly powers. I had none of that.

I was held aloft by a lot of bullshit.

“What sort of things does the cult foresee in the future for our fair city?” The thieves Guild rep inquired.

“The Deathstorm Matriarch Convergence is occurring in seven days,” I said and everyone in the abandoned mansion that was listening to our conversation collectively gasped.

“What?!” Niels blinked. “But… but…”

“Yes,” I nodded sagely. “The cult normally announces the Convergence event ten thousand heartbeats before it begins. Rejoice, mortal! We are changing our policy!”

“This is extremely unusual. To warn us a week in advance...” he muttered mostly to himself in shock.

“Silence your pathetic muttering, barber,” I channeled my best high-cultivator impression, throwing myself into it with gusto. If I was going to pretend to walk it, I might as well talk it up to an equivalent level. “Know your place. You serve ME now, do not forget that. Do you know why I told you about the Deathstorm? Administrator Han wants me in charge of all the city Guilds - not just a single gang."

“The cult... wants to control ALL of the guilds?” The next question that emerged from his mouth shot my way. I was ready for it, my lips spreading into a smile.

“Indeed, and they’ll have me in charge of it all.”

“YOU? In CHARGE?” His eyes bulged as my words percolated in his brain.

“Yes. My experience as a... Guild member puts me in a very unique position. I know how the guilds are managed. I know all of the minor gangs and key figureheads.”

“But... You are so young,” the reaper couldn't believe what I was stating so openly. What I was proposing was absolutely preposterous.

"Unimportant," I boldly pushed further with even more lies. “I was chosen because of my talents, not my age.”

Niels didn’t look convinced.

“Indeed I am the youngest high-cultivator in centuries. My initiation into the high-cultivation-circle was obviously VERY rushed because of the coming Deathstorm convergence. The Stormweavers will burn everything down - you know this as well as I do. This time, Administrator Han wants the city prepared, armed and ready. He wants to unite the guilds to stand up to the coming menace.”

“Under the authority of a sixteen year old girl?!” Niel sputtered, his wrinkles trembling at the audacity. “Why isn't he here himself?!”

“He left this morning to acquire the aid of twenty Immortals from the city of Eternal Flames,” I smoothly replied. “He shall return on the day of the Convergence to defend the city as a true hero!”

“Defend the city?!” The reaper muttered. “Cultivators only defend the compound.”

“The winds, they are-a-changing!” I sang and grabbed Celes who was following me like a lost fox cub.

"It's all true," she nodded. "We wish to help people. I’ve been bound to this world long enough to know the damage the Convergence brings."

I heard a twinge of pain in Celes voice. I held her tightly to reassure her, bolstering her confidence to speak further.

The veteran geisha raised her head, her ears upright, her soothing aura rippling out with an extra dose of power I very much appreciated. “What we’re doing here, fighting among ourselves, tearing each other apart, is a waste of our abilities and resources. We can be so much stronger than this if we work together, lest we wish to be separate and vulnerable like times before. The Cult, and Han Sempiter, knows what must be done to help you all, which is why Ash is here.”

Celes’s regality shone throughout her speech, showing the strength of a geisha without the need to be a combatant. I could see the future possibilities of what the two of us could achieve together.

She was the cloak to my dagger.

Niels Barberman blinked at her, looking stumped. He didn’t come here to be told that the cult was making a move to take over the Guilds. Nor did he expect a full-blown speech from a geisha, a person of glamor positioned away from his reach. He was here to take a core from a thief and instead he was given an extra dose of terror and hope. Terror of what was to come. Hope that perhaps more of his family, friends and property would survive the coming Deathstorm Convergence. The carrot and the stick, all in the shape of one little, adorable… fake high-cultivator named Ash Sparks, and her newfound, bonafide geisha friend, Celes.

“As the only apprentice of Han Sempiter I am in charge of enforcing the Will of god!” I brazenly declared.

“I really wish Han would have stayed to deliver such news himself to us,” Niels muttered. “It will be very difficult to convince the Guilds to follow the orders of a single high-cultivator, especially one as young as you.”

“Think ahead, idiot mortal!” I barked, pushing malice into my voice “The divinely-chosen have given the rest of the city seven days to prepare for the arrival of Deathstorm this time. Seven extra days to hide your family and your precious things in the catacombs. You should be groveling at my feet now and kissing my toes for this gift of life and opportunity! If a single Guild leader offers me grave disrespect or scoff at my age I WILL walk away and you will forevermore have ONLY five thousand heartbeats to prepare for death and brimstone.”

As I closed out the latest rant of High-Cultivator Ash Sparks, Celes pulled back her soothing energy to a very close proximity around the two of us, leaving everyone else out.

Sweat broke out on the barber’s balding forehead as Niels began to fully understand the implications of what I was offering. Seven days for EVERY Convergence.

“There is a very simple explanation for my youth and elevation,” I said. “To successfully defend our city from the Stormweavers… is akin to finding a single gold needle located in a stack of grass. One chance from a thousand.”

Niels nodded at that. He knew exactly how dangerous the Deathstorm Convergence was.

“If I fail it will be my head that rolls, you understand?” I pointed out. “This is a VERY unusual move, you are correct. I am the patsy that gets the blame if, no, when all of this goes sideways, not Enforcer Sempiter. But... if the Guilds actually stop the Deathstorm. If we can unite and repel the Stormweavers... Then I get to live and Han gets to enjoy the accolades of glory. It's as simple as that!”

“I see.” The Reaper rubbed his chin, looking at me with new eyes. He didn’t get to live his age without coming to terms with the greed and hunger of others. His slow change toward seeing to my reasoning came at the expense of a darker plot where I was being groomed as a convenient tool, which worked wonderfully for my aims.

“If asked - the other high-cultivators will outright deny my authority and claim they know nothing of the Deathstorm Convergence date. They do not wish to sully their hands with this matter or be involved in this incredibly dangerous gamble. However, Administrator Han has given me this one chance to save as many lives as possible by elevating me to the high-circle and by giving me a geisha and a powerful Servitor spirit.”

“I was property of the High-Administrator but now I belong to Lady Ash Sparks,” Celes nodded, propping up my mountain of lies with her calming radiance sprinkled with further deception. “The High-Administrator has given me to Mistress Sparks as proof of his true intentions. I wouldn’t be outside of my gilded walls talking to all of you otherwise.”

“You know how conservative the other Immortals are. They are deeply mired in their selfish ways, unshakable to the core.” I hammered the last nail in. “Han Sempiter only joined their ranks fourteen years ago and doesn’t want to start infighting, he only wishes to do what’s best for our city!”

“Now that is... clever,” Niels acceded. “On one hand you clearly have the cult’s authority and on the other you are not officially aligned with them. I didn’t know our Administrator had such devious planning skills.”

“So. My third command to you is to go into town and spread the word. The night is young. By noon tomorrow, I wish to meet with the heads of all of the Guilds at the Bell lake shrine beneath Central Park.”

“I shall do as you ask, Mistress,” the Reaper bowed.

“All of you fingers,” I addressed the Hand-gang teenagers. “You are to spread the word of the Deathstorm Convergence at the market to as many people as possible. Women and children, anyone below cultivator level or weak and old - anyone not able to stand up to a Stormweaver knight are to hide out in the catacombs along with everything of value! You should know which tunnels and caves are safe - tell the people the signs and show them the safe areas! Depart, NOW!”

The teenager hoodlums scattered at the sound of my voice, leaving only dirty footprints and clouds of dust clouds in their wake.

“...and as for you.” I approached my downtrodden nemesis. Anathema glared at me from the floor, eyes filled with hatred.

“Do you still wish to fight me?” I asked. “You have no hope of beating me, no chance.”

“Liar… liar… liar,” her lips whispered without making a sound. Unlike the other teenagers, unlike the Reaper, she somehow knew that I was lying. She must have been taught how to cultivate truth-sense. I recalled how much younger Ash failed to trick Anathema again and again, getting caught in a lie and beaten every single time.

[Your torturer, your enemy is defenceless, broken by fear and confusion. Reach out, pick up that broken blade, strike her down now and end her life just as she had tried to end yours. She KNOWS that nothing you said is true. She will be your undoing if you do not END HER NOW.] A dark thought whispered from somewhere.

No. I stopped my hand from grabbing the celesteel blade.

To end her life would undo all of my work with Reaper Niels. He was suspiciously overprotective of the girl. I needed to figure out why that was the case. Were they related? I thought that she was a street-rat like myself. Why did she have truth-sense? Who taught it to her?

I looked at the trembling girl beneath me and chose a path with the best future for both of us. I offered Anathema my hand.