“Magnificent dueling, my lady.” The Logi accountant said, bowing low and offering a towel.

I thanked him, taking the towel and wiping off the grime. Winterscar’s helmet remained at my side, hooked onto my belt. “What brings you here Edgar?” I asked. “Are there more logistics to cover since this morning?”

“It’s a good break from my duties. And I wanted to see for myself the rumors of your speed were true. I’ve heard the stories, confirmation was the natural followthrough.” He said, following to my right as I headed for my next appointment. House Everbloom’s representative would be arriving within half an hour, where we would discuss business and a possible trade relationship between House Winterscar and their own industry.

“Estimated effect on morale? I know you’ve already crunched the numbers even as you were watching me fight.”

He chuckled, a dry and slightly forced sound. I knew him well enough to recognize that was his genuine laugh, even if it sounded off to everyone else. Edgar wasn’t part of House Winterscar, rather part of his own Logi caste. He was on loan, and sworn to secrecy. He would be working hand in hand with my House for the rest of his life if all goes as expected. Every house needed the Logi caste to assist in functions after all. “There were twelve soldiers in attendance, and seven servants. Three of which were recording the match. I suspect it will circulate through the House within the day. I hadn’t expected you would defeat Ironreach himself, let alone never lose a single bout.”

“Risk of the information spreading?”

“None. I’ve already informed the witnesses this isn’t something to spread outside the house estates. It’ll surely spread through the members of course, but certainly none would dare share such a thing with anyone outside the House. On topic, does this new speed have something to do with the clan lord arriving a few days ago?”

“You noticed, have you?”

“I am a man of numbers, my lady. It didn’t escape my notice that the first mention of a knight moving at that speed happened only after Atius arrived to meet both you and your brother in private. Forgive me for leaping to conclusions. I don’t buy the cover story of this being a newly crafted technique handed down from Tenisent.”

We stepped into my personal room where an attendant and her apprentice were waiting. In the past I would meticulously spend time perfecting my makeup. Before Winterscar, that had been my armor. Now, the task had been delegated to people who’d spent their lives mastering that art and enjoyed it. These two were in charge of all the House’s outwards appearances, fussing over soldiers before ceremonies, making sure uniforms remained well-tailored and that everything looked at its best.

I sat, giving both a respectful bow and told the stylist my needs. “The agrifarmers will be meeting within the next half hour. I’d like to present an approachable and friendly face to them. I don’t expect the meeting to be cutthroat, more sealing formalities that had already been talked over correspondence.”

The stylist nodded, “I know just the touch. By your will, my lady.”

At my side the accountant continued. “How would you like to handle the rumor directions on this front within the House, Lady Winterscar?”

“What are the current conclusions?”

He closed his eyes, stringing together the words in his mind. “The arrival of the clan lord was noted, but people have muddled up the timeline. They believe the source of these new techniques came from master Keith. He’d been spotted appearing and disappearing within the estate like a ghost previously, often in places that don’t lead to anywhere. Some say he returned from the expedition changed, after having struck a deal with a Yurei. They say it lives in his armor, and grants him the strength of machines, something he’s now teaching you in the mornings. And of course, being the one who knows how to fight, you’ve taken these teachings and perfected them.”

I kept my smile controlled at that, as the stylist fussed over my left cheek, adding the right amount of blush. “They think my little brother’s brought back a ghost that’s granting him the powers to go through walls?”

The stylist slapped a hand on my shoulder, fussing. She was fine with me listening to the accountant speak, but drew the line at letting me talk while she was in the middle of work.

Edgar chuckled. “Only the ones who enjoy superstition and gossip, my lady.”

So. Mostly. Everyone. I said, hand signals being used so that the two ladies fussing over my face and hair wouldn’t have any issues.

“Mostly.” The logi accountant grinned across the mirror. “Nothing more exciting than believing the young crafty master of the new house you’ve joined commands ancient powers dredged deep below after all. The ones who care about truth have a different theory. Your little brother was known to hide away shiny items like a pipe weasel would. Notorious even when I asked the old serving staff, they had entire stories of the trinkets and items he would hide away where he thought nobody was watching. They think the young master has simply found new tunnels and attic spaces to scurry around in, now that his armor allows limitless movement and protection from any element.”

Conclusion?

Edgar nodded, pushing his glasses back in position. “The current theory is that he’s found writings from the previous clan, hidden away deep in the substructure. It’s been reported that he’s visited the clan archives multiple times, so they suspect he’s merged some of the clan’s combat techniques along with whatever teachings found inside the basement, ceilings and walls.”

And you? I signaled, quirking an eyebrow. The stylist gave me a pointed look, wordlessly going back a moment after as I relaxed my face.

“Everyone’s tight lipped about what actually happened that caused your airspeeder to return home early. What I’ve uncovered was that the Clan Lord decided to change the destination unexpectedly, as if searching for something. I believe he found whatever he was looking for. And he’s having you and Keith test it before introducing the rest of the clan with the discovery.”

I tapped my hand, signalling to the stylist I wanted to answer. She nodded, and moved to fuss over my hair, both herself and her assistant taking to the task with practiced hands.

“Mostly correct.” I said, now free to speak. “The technique requires modifications to the armor itself, and those are more personalized knight by knight. Modifications that only the House Winterscar armors are able to take due to events that happened underground, when Keith and my Father were alone. More discussion will be done with Atius, where he’ll ultimately judge how best to use the knowledge. It’s very much in flux.”

There were certainly upsides to spreading the knowledge of soul fractals to the elite knights among the clan. And significant downsides to operational security. Atius saw through history, specifically the holes in history where cities should have been. He had great interest in navigating those holes carefully, lest his clan become another missing data point.

He was going about this carefully, testing out small bits. While we were all mostly sure the soul fractals themselves wouldn’t draw attention, a whole clan filled with knights capable of moving beyond what their ranks should earn would ripple outward.

I don’t know what the future held, but I suspected with the incoming raiders, Atius would be forced to incorporate the soul-fractal techniques into our doctrines.

Would my little brother be revealed publicly as a Warlock? Or would Atius cloak the whole thing, ordering all knights to use this technique only in the most desperate of times as a hidden trump card?

The stylist completed her work, patting my shoulders. “All done, Lady Winterscar. Please do take care not to wipe your hands over my work. Don’t put on that helmet again for a while at least. Or else I’ll be quite cross with you.”

I nodded and returned her smile. “I’ll see to it. Thank you as always, I appreciate the effort you put in.”

The stylist scoffed. “What kind of stylist would I be if I didn’t take pride in my work? You have your duties to the clan, and I have mine. Now go out there and wrap up the business, young lady.”

Standing, I gave another bow before heading back out, this time in the direction of the audience hall. “Was there another pressing item to discuss?”

Of course there would be. “The prime of House Insight wishes to invite you to their prayer ceremony as a witness and guard while they’re outside to offer respect. Urs will be within viewing distance three weeks from now.”

“Is there room on the schedule? If they’ll have me, I would enjoy joining them and seeing how they choose to honor Urs.”

I reached the audience chamber, sliding the door open and walking inside. The dim lights gave the room a warmth, while the raised table gave me a slight height over those that would come. I sat down on my feet, hands folded together on my knees in a comfortable position.

The composite wood groaned slightly at the full weight of armor, but it held without issue as it had done dozens of times before.

“There is room in the schedule, I’ll note it down. That’s it for now, I assume you want to meditate for a moment before they arrive, yes?”

Edgar gave a short bow before leaving at my nod, as two attendants came in, getting immediately busy setting up the final touches for the room. They would remain as witnesses to the discussions, scribing the conversation.

I had about ten minutes before anyone else was expected to arrive. I closed my eyes, and dove deeper into the soul fractal on Winterscar’s helmet, laying by my side. The world receded around me, turning into concepts.

As a warrior, to me the soul-trance was the ultimate form of meditation, the greatest connection to the living world around me. It had clicked into place like the last missing piece in my long years of training, the cornerstone technique that drew and weaved everything together.

Keith saw concepts he was attuned to. Fractals, items and objects.

I saw people instead.

The two attendants in the room moved with practiced ease, concepts of long training and execution flowed from their minds. Concepts of pride and a budding sense of loyalty. Keith hadn’t been able to achieve this, he saw only the physical concepts, not the spiritual ones.

He'd seen it like a tool. To me, it was a weapon. This was what had truly let me defeat an elite like Ironreach.

In the soul trance, I saw concepts of combat.

Concepts of movement and training floating through his thoughts, becoming manifest in reality. And I could see it bloom to life in his mind a moment before he executed each movement.

Every move of every school of combat was meticulously categorized and named. Trained and repeated hundreds of times. And so each movement was a concept in itself. The moment a spark of an idea surfaced in the mind of my enemy, a half second before they committed to it, I would see it.

Father had fought like this, only using pure intuition to predict the enemy. And while I hadn't inherited all of his skills and gifts, the soul sight granted me my own form of precognition.

Another presence came into the room unexpectedly. Concepts of duty, speed, and order flowed through that mind. A messenger.

I opened an eye and watched as the Winterscar soldier approached. He took a deep bow before me, “My lady Winterscar. Master Keith sends a message for your eyes only.” A small parchment was withdrawn from his tunic, and he offered it to me. The wax seal remained bright and untouched on the envelope, signifying no one had yet read the words within. On his other hand, he offered a candle.

My hands reached out, snapping the seal and unfurling the parchment.

Reading the words, I carefully kept my smile in control. There hadn’t been any doubts in my mind in the first place. This was the inevitable conclusion when anything that looked like a puzzle ran aground against Keith. The last discovery he’d made had given me the tools to change warfare forever. I was curious to see what new era his next discovery would lead to.

The soldier lit the candle he held, offering it to me with head bowed. In my armored hand, the flame remained bright and orange, waiting.

The paper message was offered, and the flames eagerly devoured it. Dissolving the three words he’d written into ash:

I’ve found it.

- Sneaky bastards