Eric stopped holding his nose and offered Ryllae a slight bow. It seemed an appropriate action, judging by the slight nod of approval Samuel gave as he did so. The thought occurred to Eric that he was quite tired of meeting so many people. What would be next, the Queen of the entire damn country? He suppressed a shudder, hoping that he hadn’t just made the thought into a reality.

“Good morning, Chancellor Inaro,” he said, hoping he sounded smoother. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“Is it?” Inaro replied. “I can’t imagine Samuel speaks of me often, with how busy he is.”

The tone of her voice was cold, but when Eric looked back up at her, she was smiling slightly. “It was a good attempt, young man. Tell me. How did you meet my husband?”

“Oh, he’s agreed to teach me a thing or two about magic, ma’am,” Eric explained, glancing at Samuel. The mage was watching his daughter scribbling on some parchment with a curious grin. “I’m with the Guard’s Guild, and looking to learn some magical skills to improve my station.”

There was a long pause, or so it seemed to Eric, where Ryllae Inaro studied him intently. Finally, with a slight smile, she looked back up at her husband. “He’s learning quickly.”

Samuel tore his eyes away from his daughter to share the smile. “Indeed. Faster than I expected.”

Confused, Eric opened his mouth to ask what they meant. He hadn’t started learning anything from the Archmage yet. Or was she commenting on his manners? Then the answer struck him. Of course, he told himself. As Samuel’s wife, and undoubtedly a skilled mage herself, she would know about how Eric had come to Ahya.

“I’m picking it up as fast as I can,” he said quietly. “But it’s an entirely new world.”

“Which is challenging enough in its own right, I am sure,” Inaro replied. “Such a burden would be too much for most people. Yet you’re handing it well, and ready to learn more, it seems.”

Eric merely nodded once, unable to think of an adequate reply. All three of them settled into an awkward sort of silence, watching Elena as she continued to scribble upon the parchment on the desk. For all the world she could have been a small child making nonsensical patterns with a crayon. But Eric could identify the pattern behind her movements, even if he couldn’t see the page clearly. She was making some kind of list, her nose slightly scrunched in concentration.

“Well,” Eric said slowly, trying to break the silence. “Lady Inaro, it was an honor to meet you. Samuel, a pleasure as always. I’ll come back when I’ve figured out this Ki thing.”

Ryllae Inaro inclined her head coolly in reply. Samuel, however, who had returned to watching his daughter work with a slightly puzzled expression, jerked back to attention as Eric addressed him. He looked a little shocked at the sudden departure but waved a hand in dismissal all the same. Pausing slightly, wondering if anyone was going to say anything else, Eric turned on his heel and exited the study.

Thankfully there was no trap awaiting him on the way out of the house. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the path they’d taken from the Archives to here, so he decided, once he’d reached the large staircase to the first floor, to just exit via the main door. He had an inkling that he’d end up somewhere in the Royal District. He’d just have to find the Queen’s Road and make his way from there to Issho-Ni.

The large double doors flew open by themselves as Eric stepped within reach, letting in a stream of warm light as he crossed the threshold. He found, to his surprise, that he wasn’t in the Royal District at all. He was at the edge of the Market District, and could recognize the alley of weavers and clothiers he’d visited with Emma. So he was at the end furthest from the main road, he thought.

He took a look back at Samuel’s house and nearly shouted with surprise. The sparkly-clean mansion with high vaulting windows and elegantly simple decor was gone. All that remained was a shack. There was no way to put it lightly. It was dingy, dirty, and very obviously beaten down by years and years of weather. There was a battered wooden sign on the front, with the word ‘Open’ on the face, hanging by a nail and rope.

Shaking his head wearily, Eric made his way through the market to The Queen’s Road, taking care to avoid the shabby stall that M owned and operated. He had no desire nor need to deal with that woman for the foreseeable future, he told himself. She gave him the creeps, so he’d stay away.

Issho-Ni was exactly what he’d expected in a dojo. A low ornate wall of dark mahogany wood framed the property, with a single entrance under an elaborate arched gate facing the Queen’s Road. Just one man was posted at the entrance to keep an eye out, but he carried no weapons, and his posture was incredibly relaxed, leaning on the low wall and grinning at passing people.

What a casual atmosphere, Eric couldn’t help thinking. Either thator this is one particularly lazy cadet. He passed the guard with a friendly nod and paused in his steps as he took notice of the building that dominated the majority of the property. It was like a small castle, built in the slightly exotic style so typical of Japanese architecture. There were only two floors for the most part, with sloping roofs that ended in sharp points pointed towards the sky. There was a lot of that dark brown wood in use, highlighted by the brighter color of oiled paper walls throughout the structure.

After all his walking about Milagre, Eric estimated that it was somewhere around mid-day. But the building in front of him was almost completely silent, without any noise of sparring or shouted orders. Was the entire company of Issho-Ni out training other men? Or was the outfit as a whole just too relaxed to care much for rigorous training? He didn’t think the last option was too likely, for the company had a reputation for putting out deadly, elite warriors.

As he entered the main structure, he quickly saw why it was so quiet. Nearly fifty men and women, all wearing similar light gray robes, were arranged in a broad circle around the exterior of the room. Two figures, one quite old and the other about Eric’s age, were seated similarly, but in the center of the room. The older man’s robes were more intricate and hemmed in black. That probably notified a higher rank, Eric thought.

They could have all been meditating, except that the outer figures had their eyes completely open. They were watching the center with intense stares as if the two were conducting an epic sparring match. As Eric took a hesitant step further inside, he felt a strange breeze rustle into him. It was just strong enough to cause him to stumble slightly, and as he did so, the eyes of the outer circle switched to him, then back to the center.

Confused and lost, Eric sat himself down by the door as quietly as he could and watched the two in the middle. The older man was completely stock-still as if carved from stone, but the younger one was twitching slightly. He leaned forward an inch or two, then back, then to the side, the muscles of his face jumping sporadically as if shocked by a loud noise. What in the world were they doing? The spectators along the walls seemed deeply interested in the scene, but Eric couldn’t help but feel bored. He suppressed a yawn with difficulty, not wanting to interrupt their concentration.

Suddenly, the spectators broke into a strange sort of applause, slapping their hands onto their thighs in a rhythmic sort of way, exactly three times. In the middle, the two had opened their eyes, and the younger man was bowing to his elder. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, his breathing slightly unsteady. Meanwhile, his companion continued to sit calmly, showing no signs of exhaustion.

“Well done, Moretti,” the old man said with a smile. “Your control is improving greatly.”

“Thank you, Master Reito,” the apprentice Moretti gasped. “I will take this lesson to heart.”

As they both rose, the master, Reito, caught sight of Eric but did not speak to him. He turned in place to address the spectators. “Now. What allowed me to so easily defend against Hopeful Moretti’s attacks?”

Attacks? Eric looked again at Moretti. He did indeed look like he’d been working hard, but there had been no sign of fighting. One of the spectators, who looked to be in his late twenties, raised his hand. “He did not achieve complete separation. He was still linked too strongly to his body, and so could not move freely.”

“Correct,” Reito replied, pointing at the one who had answered to reinforce his point. “It is only with complete separation of body and soul that one can experience true freedom of movement, and take full advantage of their soul’s considerable power.”

“But, Master Reito,” another student, the same age as Moretti, had spoken up. “Samuel Bragg says in ‘Tome of the Soul’ that projection doesn’t have to be a complete action. He says that you can achieve great strength while the soul still resides within.”

“That is perfectly true, Apprentice Kiinor,” Reito admitted, looking pleased with the interjection. “But Bragg speaks of techniques learned after basic mastery of projection. Can anyone tell me why complete projection mastery is so important?”

There was a short pause, perhaps a few seconds, before one student raised his hand, looking hesitant. “Because without experiencing complete separation, you cannot distinguish between physical and spiritual energies?”

“Not quite,” Reito answered with a shake of his head. “Anyone else?”

Nobody seemed to know the answer, and no other guesses were given. Finally, a deep voice from the back rang out, drawing all eyes. “Without complete mastery, the soul is still dependant upon the body. What ails the body ails the soul, what ails the soul ails the body, and both are weakened for it.”

“Well put, as always, Master Tokugawa,” Reito said, turning smoothly on his heel to face the newcomer. “Why does Bragg not mention this in his book?”

The man stepped further into the room, and his features became more apparent. Short black spiky hair sat atop a thin and angular face, tanned by years of campaigning and traveling. He wore the same style of robes as Reito, though the sleeves were cut shorter, revealing muscled forearms. The skin there bore distinct tattoos of spikes, which seemed to radiate a slight aura of power. They were nothing compared to the man himself, which was surrounded by a sheen of faint light as if his clothes were glowing slightly.

“Samuel did not approach the process of projection from an apprentice’s point of view,” Tokugawa said slowly. “He was already an accomplished arcane mage, and a skilled fighter, not to mention he’d already mastered projection through other means. He did not understand the strict relation between projection and the strength of a soul.”

“Correct,” Reito beamed. “Well, that is enough for today. Until next week, focus on your own meditation. Focus on the very being of your soul, so that you may isolate it entirely. We will try again later.”

As one, the group of people rose to their feet. Most filed through the double doors and past Eric, into the sunlight outside, but perhaps half a dozen stayed inside, either lingering to ask Reito more questions or heading deeper into the building to pursue other tasks. Eric got to his feet slowly as well, his mind spinning with what he’d just heard. Projection? Did they mean astral projection? As in the ability to move the soul outside of the body?

“Good afternoon,” a voice interrupted Eric’s thoughts. The Master Tokugawa had approached without him noticing. “May the Mother bless you. How can we help you today?”

“Uhh, hi,” Eric stammered, caught off guard by how quietly and quickly the man had approached. “I’m here to meet Master Calemviir if he’s available. I’m looking for a mentor to train me.”