Selna was in the Sixth Region's Antechamber, a spacious room built with gold-framed white stones. It had two double doors. The doors she had used to enter the room were made of enchanted silver, while the ones on the opposite side were made of also enchanted, alchemically reinforced black metal.

The place had no official name, but it had won its uppercase "A" in Antechamber throughout the years. The last seven Taskmasters to hold office had made a tradition of summoning people then having them wait for hours in the Task Room's Antechamber. It was a sort of psychological torture that most Madam and Sirs went through one time or another.

Selna was a Madam no more; she had lost the title and the job as soon as Illyria became the Herald of Light's responsibility. Yet, she was once more being subjected to the agony of the unknown.

Her premonition, as strong as it had been, hadn't informed her of what to expect from the meeting she had been called to attend. She knew she would be sent to the Herald of Light sooner rather than later, but she didn't know the reason for it, nor how headquarters felt about her.

She was no fool. She had been treated well enough to know they didn't want to punish her for anything. Truth be told, her treatment had been a little too good. They had wanted something from her from the moment she had arrived at the Sixth Region's branch, and she expected them to collect as soon as she was called in the Task Room's.

And at long last, the torture was over.

"Selna, daughter of Ashnotov, come in," the Taskmaster said. His voice was old and tired, like his leadership.

She answered the summons at once. To begin with, she fixed her posture. Though she liked to exaggerate her bent back to make her adversaries underestimate her, that wouldn't work with the incoming audience. She had been diagnosed and treated by a Five Star Physician, then given a superior cultivation method. Pretending weakness would only make the Taskmaster consider her untalented and unworthy.

Then, as she walked toward the black doors, she cast a simple spell to iron her clothes, another to make sure no hair was out of place, and a third one to clean her skin. She was ready by the time she arrived at the doors, which opened by themselves to receive her, and closed behind her after she entered the room.

The Task Room was medium-sized and round, made of the same white stone as the Antechamber. Here, however, the stones there were energetically humming from all the patterns they held. There were a big round wooden table and thirteen chairs in the middle of the room. One chair had a higher back, the one that belonged to the Taskmaster.

Selna considered herself a battle-hardened veteran, at least when the field of battle was kingdom politics. She had seen the unspeakable and done the necessary to protect the interests of the Arcane Circle — and hers. It had been a long time since anything had fazed her.

Yet, her steps faltered when she saw the Arcane Master himself sitting on the tallest chair, looking in her direction with unhidden disappointment in his eyes.

He was the Guardian of the Light in the World, and his physique left no doubt as to his ability to guard anything whatsoever. He was strongly built, with shoulders so wide she wondered whether he was using armor beneath his robe. She knew he wasn't though. That their leader looked more like a warrior than a mage was a long-time inside joke of the Arcane Circle.

His eyes were golden like his hair and filled beard, and his perpetual smirk made one wonder whether he was smiling at you or looking down on you — she felt it was the latter now. He looked young, no more than forty, but from the Champion level onward, cultivators usually looked younger than they were. He was a Master and had already been the Arcane Master fifty years ago.

Unlike the common robes of the Arcane Circle, his wasn't black, but white instead, more akin to a priest than a mage — another inside joke. However, the symbols glowing with Arcane Energy in his robe were definitely magic. Selna wasn't sure, but she felt they might be stronger than the common protective patterns of common robes.

"You don't look like the cold, calculating bitch I was told to expect," he said with brutal sincerity. "No, you look like an old fart that forgot to let the wind cleanse it away. You suck." He turned to the Taskmaster, a scholar-looking, thin man in his eighties that was sitting beside him. "Just let her die in a corner. I need warriors, not walking corpses."

Her surprise made her hesitate when she saw him, but now, he was speaking her language. Albeit rude, he was testing her, plain and simple. She had lived too long to care about a few offensive words. She would pass his test with flying colors.

She kept walking in a controlled pace and sat at the chair opposite to the Arcane Master. Only then did she reply. "I was told Masters look younger than their age, and I believe it. You must be going senile if you think you can treat me like that. I'm the only expert you have at the unique subject that is the Herald of Light, and I have already felt the strings of fate pulling me toward him. You came to ask for help, and I might help you, but only if you don't treat me like either a naïve child or a slave with low self-esteem."

He was still smirking when he looked back at her. Then he shook his head. "This is not your show anymore, daughter of Ashnotov. I am the dealer in this card game; I make the rules. It doesn't matter what I want from you if I don't believe you can deliver, and I don't."

"Try me, kid," she replied firmly.

His smirk turned into a small smile. "So be it. Welcome to the Third Crusade. Your orders are to do as the Herald of Light wills. We'll leave to rendezvous with him after lunch. You're dismissed."

For things to be solved just like that... It was not what she had expected.

She hadn't passed the test; she had been played like a fiddle. He had come prepared; he had known she was competitive and had used it against her to make her agree to whatever he wanted before he even said it. She had been had.

"I said dismissed," he repeated a few moments later. "I have more people to interview. Tell William Wolf to come in after you leave."

Selna suppressed a sigh. In the end, that was just another loss in her long life. She wasn't perfect and was used to that.

She bowed her head slightly, conceding defeat, then stood up and walked away. It was her fault she had fallen for that. It was silly, really. She had tried to outplay the Arcane Master. He dealt with gods, the emperor, and the imperial court, while she had only ever played some kings at most. He had all the data the Arcane Circle had ever collected about her, while she had only hearsay from his past deeds. She had never been an opponent at all, only a small employee who thought too highly of herself.

Selna was almost at the door when she realized what she had just heard. She froze and turned to stare at her boss.

"Third what?!" she asked in shock.

The Arcane Master shook his head. "You were this close to gaining my respect. Just get the hells out of my room, and quick. That was a direct order, and you are now a soldier of the Third Crusade; wasting your superior's time is a military offense."

Her heart was beating too fast, and she quickly took a pill bottle from her spatial ring. Her damn old body was a heart attack away from stopping working, but she had the medicine to prevent that. A pill later, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth to demand explanations, thought better of it, then left.

"Damn moron," she heard the Arcane Master say. "She and you both, Lustos. You allow your Madams and Sirs to hunt for Heroes! Do you want my Arcane Circle to be destroyed? Are you a damn traitor? Do I need to kill you too?"

His words, despite filled with anger and bloodlust, made her relax. That explained it. She guessed the Taskmaster had not sent the full report of Selna's activities and decisions before, and the Arcane Master had just learned of it all. Then, the Taskmaster had still embellished the tale about her somehow, yet the Arcane Master had seen through her as soon as she entered the room, which made him disappointed. Finally, if the Arcane Master's words were to be believed, blood had already been spilled, and he wanted to spill more to cleanse the stupidity from his organization.

She didn't know why going against Heroes was such a terrible idea. Oh, she guessed a pissed Hero might go after the Circle if a Sir or Madam made themselves known and failed in their hunt, but the Arcane Circle was too powerful to fall against a single Hero. No, that potential danger didn't explain the Arcane Master's reaction, and her ignorance on the subject was proof of the Taskmaster's incompetence in training his people.

Or a sign of betrayal, just as the Arcane Master was suggesting.

But that was way above her paygrade now. She was just... what? She had lost her job as Madam of a kingdom branch, but she had never been given any other position. Now, she was going to a Crusade.

Well, that was it, probably.

She was a just soldier under the Herald of Light. She hadn't been ordered to think, and she would do her best to obey her current lack of directives.

She was just too damn old for proactivity.

When the sun raised on the horizon, a small plant sprouted from the ground. It was half-black, half-white, just like all others Aaron had seen. It had a particle of Divine Energy inside it and was already creating a defensive dome around itself.

Aaron harvested it, put it in his mouth, and digested its energies while he walked back to the city.

The last time he had consumed the sprout, it had almost killed him. Now, not only did he have control over Qi of two higher grades than before, he had already been tempered by the previous sprout too. Thus he had no trouble resisting the Divine Energy or using it to temper himself while moving.

The process was similar to last time too. He was improving all parts of himself while also keeping himself imperfectly balanced, as to avoid calling a tribulation upon himself. Nothing noteworthy happened to him. He wasn't even stronger, only closer to breaking through his bottleneck.

Something quite noteworthy was waiting for him in front of the almost fully repaired Alys Tower though. The king, still armless, was waiting for Aaron in royal clothes, guarding the Builder together with seven guards. The Builder had a purple eye and a bloody mouth, clear signs of a beating. The king looked proud, yet also anxious, like a subordinate who had done good but wasn't sure if his boss would think the same.

"Herald, thank goddess you're safe," the king said. Aaron couldn't help but mentally nod at the man, who had already adopted even the mannerisms of the Temple of Light into his speech. He was a politician through and through. "I was afraid the Patterners Guild might have kidnapped you."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh. And why would they?"

"The Builder sent your building's pattern to the guild. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop the word from leaving the kingdom when I was informed."

"That doesn't explain why the guild would kidnap me. It's just a formation." Aaron knew how lackluster the kingdom's technology was when compared to the standards he was used to. However, he had taken extra care about what he had shown the Builder. That design had been such a base simplification of the true formation he would create with the buildings, that not even an apprentice should give it a second glance.

"Because you're an unaffiliated Patterner. They have a monopoly of patterns in the empire and don't take kindly to competition."

In the documents the king had given Aaron, there had been no mentions of an official organization with a monopoly over patterns. Not that Aaron believed the king had hidden it from him. In the crime reports he had received, there had been instances of mages disappearing, and a suspicious lack of investigations on the matter. Someone was behind the Patterners Guild, and they were powerful enough for no one to do anything about it.

"I see. I appreciate the concern and the heads up. However, I never asked the Builder for secrecy, so he did nothing that warrants such punishment. I was testing him, and he failed, but that only means he shall never be more than a service provider for me or my clan, and only for minor matters at that. Once you leave, please send a healer this way. This man has a tower to repair and a few buildings to design."

If Aaron had approached this situation from a clan perspective, the king would have been an outsider attacking someone who was providing a service to his clan. The king's noble motives wouldn't have mattered when he didn't know the full picture. The offense would have to be sorted at once.

However, Aaron approached it from a crusade perspective. The king was a subordinate under him in the Third Crusade, not an outsider. Therefore, Aaron's zealous subordinate had suspected the Builder of betrayal against his superior and acted on it. Though the king had been a bit heavy-handed in his investigations, that was to be expected when dealing with traitors.

From that point of view, the king had done an outstanding job. It even reminded Aaron of a potential issue with those who would answer the call to his crusade: they needed to know how to behave.

"Also, ask Alys for a few copies of the rules of the Ironblood clan. The same rules will apply to the crusade, and I want every member to have a copy of them. Let them know ignorance is no excuse to break the rules. They should read and memorize it as soon as possible. "

The king nodded. "It will be as you will it, herald."

Aaron nodded back dismissively, then turned to the Builder. "Now, do you want to tell me why you did that, or should we just pretend it never happened? I don't care either way, I just hope you aren't as incompetent in building things as you are unprofessional."