Self ended up wandering the building of the community after the bath, both out of a lack of anything to do, and a vague curiosity as to what went on where Self wasn't presently.

The courtyard was full, when Self glanced back in, the walls lined with bundles of clothing; it was full of many, all past the age of naming, practicing with staff and shield. They were much better than the students Self had trained with. Many paired off, flowing between attacks, parries, and blocks; others practiced in larger groups, moving as a wall of shields, using a variety of strikes, only the overhead known to Self, to try to get past the shields of the opposing wall. Any who were struck immediately disengaged and went to join another practice group.

Self glanced upward, and quickly looked back down; there was indeed a sphere of light up there, a blazing fire of blue and red, a signal that overwhelmed sight in an excess of light. Self thought to the description, that it could damage sight, and it made sense.

Onward, away from the noises of staff striking shield. The doors closed with a click as Self continued down the hallways, looking left and right into open doors. People were engaged in a variety of things, most of which Self didn't recognize. An individual was doing something with an odd, squat, cylindrical shape, in shades of brown which covered the djinn's hands. One hand held an odd pointed instrument, and the djinn alternated between using that instrument to touch the cylindrical shape - which deformed at the touch, all around - followed by using a finger, which caused the sharper angles to smooth out. Self moved on.

The next room held a similar configuration, but was unoccupied. The next three doors were closed. Self turned down a hallway and walked, searching for more open doors.

The next two open rooms were unoccupied; one, full of shelves, each shelf full of rectangular objects. Self had pulled one out, and it was full of flat pale yellow rectangles - paper - each densely packed with dark brown lines - writing - but the details were unclear; there were a few memories of these books, but they were disconnected from any useful concepts. Self had observed a pair of students writing during Harabi's lesson, but hadn't given it much thought at the time. Now, Self had a brief moment of understanding that the act of writing had been recognized from those memories immediately, without Self having been aware of the origin of the recognition. Self put the book back and moved on to the next room, across the hall.

This room was densely filled with metal, the centerpiece of which was a pair of enormous cylinders. Moving around it, Self could identify little, the purposes of most of the objects in the room unclear. On one end, however, was a box full of the pale yellow paper. Perhaps this room was where paper was made? Self moved back to the large cylinders, and examined them. Yes, if you put ... something here, these would flatten the material, which would slide down the surface here, and these must be blades for cutting it. At the end was a lever; Self lifted it, and there was another blade underneath it. Self nodded, and moved to leave the room.

Halting at the entrance, Self looked back. Paper was made. Somebody else made the paper into books. Self looked at the lanterns lighting the stone hallways. Somebody filled these with fuel. Where did the fuel come from?

Everything had to be made. It was an overwhelming realization, as Self looked around the hallway, suddenly aware of the bricks of stone, the identically-colored material between each one. There were so many people, each doing one thing.

Well, maybe more than one thing, thinking of Efre. But still, so many different things to do. Somebody made the dressers in Self's room. Harabi made clothing, but examining it now, Self examined the miniscule threads that made it up. Somebody made those. Or did Harabi also do that?

Looking around the hallway, at the number of closed doors. So many hallways, so many rooms. People made all of this, made everything that filled it, made everything that the people who made these things needed. They also had to be fed; Self wasn't certain how much people ate, but Efre had eaten multiple times during the day. The sheer number of people, and as Self tried to conceptualize it, something like the sense of dizziness of looking up at the sky crept in.

It faded with a force of stillness. Self looked around, and sat up. Self had fallen backwards into the room, and somehow managed to close the door. Rising slowly, Self opened the door again, and stepped back into the hallway.

It felt ... something, now. A sense of down, strong. Heavy. That was what that word meant. The hallway felt heavy. The lanterns, filled by someone, felt heavy. Which hallway was this, which way back to the room? Self started walking, and then jogging, and then running.

Someone opened a door, and stepped out. Another. Another. People started filtering out into the halls, and the feeling of weight increased. It must be getting close to a mealtime. The noise of conversations began to rise, a chaotic mix of tones, and Self stopped.

Eyes closed, Self forced stillness, as people jostled by. Stillness, and sound faded to a distant vibration. Stillness, and it was someone far away being jostled by the crowd. Stillness.

In the still, Self considered the sensation of weight. It was several things; it was the sheer number of people, in this one community. Hundreds? Thousands? Those were numbers, but they didn't meant much to Self. It was that Self had an obligation to protect this community, these hundreds, these thousands; Self couldn't even conceptualize how many people there were, the idea of protecting them, of having an obligation to each of them, seemed beyond conceptualization as well. A staff, barely longer than a single one of them was tall; a spear, just a staff with a point on the end of it, and a shield.

That was how Self was to protect them? Two objects that were barely large enough to protect Self? There had been the wall, the shields linked together. But Self was one; that had been many, standing side by side. Self couldn't be a wall, like that. Self and the three other loop-bound of the community wouldn't make a wall wide enough for these many to stay behind.

Self wasn't certain what the question was, but knew there was one. Eyes opening, Self took in the surroundings, as the djinn filtered past on their way to lunch, some pausing briefly to look into the loop-bound's face.

Self started walking then, starting by figuring out which hallway this was, and then walking more purposefully, to the room that Efre taught the young in; Efre had shown it to Self once, in the obligation lessons, explaining that etiquette lessons were necessary for the young, as well, although they needed the same lessons repeated many times over many years.

Efre was in the room, moving blue and red cushions that were arranged in a grid on the floor. The work paused when Self entered, and Efre looked up.

"Greetings, Self." An uncertain pause. "What may I help you with?"

"This community has so many people, and there are only four of us. The obligation looks impossible." Self hadn't been certain of what to say, and then found the words coming out anyways, entirely new and unexpected. Efre stopped, pausing leaned over to pick up a cushion, hands frozen in the air.

"I ... see." After a pause, the cushion was lifted, the clean up resuming. "I do believe I told you your obligation was to do as much as possible. Many of us will join in the protection of the community, if it comes to that."

Self remembered the many people training, remembered the other students in Hvare's lessons. "But that is not their obligation. It is mine."

"It is all of our obligation; part of that obligation is fulfilled by serving the obligation to the loop-bound, for example by teaching them." A smile, as Efre completed the row, and moved to the next. "But the four of you will not be alone, and in most cases, it will not be our community alone. If one community is threatened, all communities are threatened. Other loop-bound would join in such a war, along with thousands of us. But the idea is mostly to ensure that nobody wants to join us in battle, by ensuring we are well-prepared for one. Harabi calls this the first battle."

Thousands, that incomprehensible number of people. Each with their own vibrations, their own minds. Efre continued.

"Personally I think the first battle is diplomacy, ensuring that others don't consider whether it is wise to attack us in the first place, but words are my last weapon, as well, as Harabi might say.

"Zana thinks the first weapon is numbers; that our first obligation to defense is having many children. I can't say Zana or Harabi are wrong, we each have our own way of looking at the world."

Self felt the sense of weight ... relaxing. The numbers still felt overwhelming, but that was not a thing Self had to think about. Self's obligation was protection, but it was the obligation of many - many thousands - and it was not one shield, but many.

Like the shield wall.

"Thank you, Efre." Efre gave a slight nod, smiling.

"Anytime, Self. You are young yet, but you aren't alone here."