Each bump, scrape, and jolt of the Land-dragon-drawn carriage transmits directly to my legs and back through whatever impact conductive material lines the seat I rest on. Rachel, my companion on this journey, sits opposite me, eyes closed, head leaning on the side of this coach's green felt interior.

In the two months that have passed since recruiting Tabitha and Solomon into my party, I have been preparing non-stop for my upcoming expedition within the earth-bound Tower near Sapphire Academy.

Gathering assets and information, attending premium lectures and workshops. Studying Father's teachings…

No resource useful in increasing the chances of the success of my imminent undertaking has been neglected.

While Father has given me a working knowledge for most fields of inquiry pertinent to a Tension Master, I have found some of the lectures useful in broadening my realm of competence. The workshops related to sealed Arts have been of particular utility to me. Through Nettle's tutorship, many clouded concepts cleared up, revealing innovations in the subject matter I had not till then considered.

Though I've always been aware of the ability to prepare single-use set Arts in advance, Nettle, not Father, taught me how best to utilise the practice. I learned how to combine compatible sealed Arts in order to amplify their effect. I learned how to increase the duration a sealed Art can be stored before it deteriorates. She even taught me that it is possible to slightly amend the function of the Art subsequent to it being sealed.

Of all the premium lectures I paid for, none could compare to those taught by Nettle Bloom.

With every acquisition of skills, resources, and information, my confidence in ascending the Tower sans insurmountable opposition grew along with my preparations, reaching its current peak only now. The majority of my wealth expended, I can say that not a coin went to waste... Except maybe...

Sasha Lundis.

Slowing my breathing, I stifle the violent impulse raging from the thought of that girl… The girl that killed Amy. Allowing the cold to take me, my mind calms.

I will kill Sasha, not for taking Amy from me. It is, after all, the right of the big to crush the small, but for assuming such an act could affect me in the slightest, Sasha's punishment will be severe. She'll die for her arrogance, not for exercising her natural right over the weak…

That's right, Amy was weak, that's why she died, but…

Why couldn't I protect her?

The carriage slows, nudging me from my thoughts.

'We're ere, the town of Leafton', a voice from the front of the carriage yells. Feet land on stone outside, I hear the crunch of their impact. The door to the coach is pulled open, granting the last rays of daylight access to my eyes.

Standing outside of the buggy, a man of diminutive size, wearing a loose-fitting tunic and mud-stained, tattered trousers, holds the door open and waits. With a protracted yawn, Rachel stirs from her sleep and opens her brown, no, amber eyes.

'Why have we stopped?' She asks. Remaining silent, I affix the satchel lying at my feet to my shoulders. Lifting myself from the seat, I climb down the wooden steps planted at the foot of the exit. Feet shuffle from behind, and Rachel joins me outside of the carriage. Tossing a single silver coin to the whip, Rachel and I walk past, ignoring his exclamations of gratitude as we do.

Rows of terraced houses constrict the streets around us, creating straight but narrow paths in which pedestrians and beast-drawn buggies transverse. The crackling of wheel and foot on gravel coalesces with the omnidirectional noise of chattering to create an environment of vibrancy in the town centre where we stand.

The campus of Sapphire Academy dwarfs this town, I'm sure, but from a cursory look at the population density of just where I stand, it cannot be compared to the comparatively deserted grounds of the academy.

'Just follow me, My lord', Rachel says as she practically skips ahead, looking back from time to time. As she pulls further and further ahead of me, she looks back and stops. Catching up with the overly eager girl, she turns her face to mine and sticks out her lower lip in a pout.

'Three days on the road, and even the promise of hot food and an even hotter bath doesn't move you? You do know it's not a crime to be excited, right? You're in a place you've never been with a world-class beauty as your guide. It wouldn't kill you to show a little enthusiasm.'

A smile creeps on my mouth, I tug it down before it has a chance to spread. Biting the inside of my lip, I put a final end to the risk of uninvited merriment. I follow behind Rachel, restraining her pace with my own. Walking down roads in-between terraced houses, we arrive at a three-story semi-detached inn, "The Scholar's Arms."

Walking through the black door of the white brick building, an elderly woman sits behind a desk. She smiles as our eyes make contact. Rachel steps in front of me and approaches the lady behind the desk.

'We have a reservation', Rachel says.

'Oh, let me see', The senior says as she flicks through the pages of what I can only assume is a book of reservations, though from this distance, without enhancing my vision, I can only make out outlines and scribbles. 'In whose name is the reservation?' The lady finally asks.

'Adam Greymore and one servant', Rachel replies, gesturing at me with a tilt of her head. 'Two en-suite bedrooms for five days.'

'Ah, yes. I've found the booking, but it says here you've only booked one room. A double, to be sure, but only one.' Though only from the back, I see Rachel's neck tint red through the gaps uncovered by her golden, shoulder-length ponytail.

'Tha- that has to be a mistake', Rachel stutters.

'No mistake, the old lady replies, and I'm afraid all our other rooms are booked solid. I would suggest another Inn if it's really a bother, but with the festival of endless tears coming up, I'm afraid you wouldn't have a hope of finding a vacancy.' Rachel spins around to face me, cheeks redder than the apples I had, until enrolling at Sapphire Academy, only heard of.

'It's fine, a double room will do fine', I say while walking to Rachel's side. Essentially radiating heat, her face turns a deeper shade of scarlet.

'Well, It'll be supper time soon, let me take you to your room', the lady says. Shuffling off her chair, the lady takes two identical three-pronged, bronze keys. Handing one to me and the other to Rachel, the woman walks us around a corner and up a flight of stairs. Walking through a hallway, the matron leads us to a door.

'It's just inside there', the lady says. Having waited for me to unlock the door and convey gratitude, the old woman makes her way back the way we had come, leaving Rachel and me alone.

We enter the room, a king-sized bed welcomes us on arrival. The room also boasts thatched windows with diamond shapes crisscrossed in wood across the glass, a desk, and mounted gas lanterns. I walk to the lanterns and ignite their flames. The gentle yellow light displaces the dimming sunlight trickling through the window.

'We've been on the road for a while, you can bathe first', I say, pointing towards a closed door. Without any resistance, verbal or otherwise, Rachel bursts through the closed door. Seconds later, the creak and burbles of running water fills the room.

Minutes go by, and Rachel exits the bathroom. Wearing nothing but a body length towel, Rachel races behind me and pushes me into the now vacant bathroom.

Once fully submerged, a knock at the door breaks my relaxation. 'It's almost time, my lord'. Rachel says from the other side of the door. 'I'll go meet with the contact to confirm the time and place.' The distant sound of a door opening then closing reaches my ears.

Having allowed all traces of mud and grime melt off me along with lathered soap I had washed with, I step out of the bath. Wrapping my waist in a clean, white towel, I walk back into the guest room adjoining the bathroom. From my satchel, I withdraw a green ring. Placing the ring on my finger, and stretching out my hands, I think of a buttoned white shirt and black trousers, and they materialise from an emerald fog pouring out of the ring.

Of all my gains over the last two months, the spatial ring forged from a Dryad's heart has no equal. Being capable of storing three chests worth of objects, it's a prerequisite for any Escalade's serious exploration of the Towers. Of course, a rank-three like myself, being unexpected to go further than the beaten path in any Tower floor, would not be expected to possess such a treasure.

Slipping into my clothes, I place the spatial storage ring into my pocket before leaving the room. Grabbed by the palm of meaty aromas, I allow myself to be lead by scent into a dining hall. Finding a mercifully empty seat among the throng eating and drinking and drinking some more in the dining room, I take a seat and read from a paper menu rested on the table.

'What will it be?' A buxom young lady wearing a corset and red skirt stands by my table, holding a clipboard and a graphite pencil. Shifting my head in her direction, I can't help but notice her ample bosom accentuated by the lifting effect of her light-red corset. Rousing something inside of me, I refocus on the lady's face and suppress the feeling. She is pretty, I can't deny that, but I have no time to entertain this kind of foolishness.

'I'll take the kidney pie', I'm not quite sure what the kidney pie entails, but given the high price relative to the other menu items, it can't be unpleasant. Fifteen copper removed from my purse clinks onto the table. The woman, by the embroidery stitched into the corset, named Harry, takes the coins, bows, and walks past my line of sight.

Mind adrift in the sea of scrapes and dings, and prattle, and laughter of the eatery brimming with revellers, I barely notice the time between the waitresses departure and return with a steam laden, golden-crusted pasty. Presented with a knife and fork, I dismiss Harry and begin on my meal.

Arms from behind pull me into an embrace. Tension converges around me invigorating the space I inhabit. Muscles expand as calescent plasma races through me. I jolt to a stand breaking the hold over me. Patron's eyes all dart to my location. Ignoring the stares, I turn and face my aggressor.

'Easy, handsome.' Before me, a carrot-topped woman, appearing to be in her early to mid-twenties holds her hands out, gesturing goodwill. Her ebony skin, unusual for this region, glows with a manic intensity. She's not here for a fight, but by the Tension she commands, she is ready for one.

Laughing with all the peculiarities of her frenzied aura, she lowers her hands and relinquishes the Tension around her. Maintaining my enhancements, I too dispel the surrounding energies.

'Now that's a good boy, I only wanted to talk', the woman says.

'Who are you?'

'Oh, just an admirer', pausing to cackle, the woman goes on. 'You have to understand, when I see handsome young men like yourself, I can't help but get a little handsy. No, I can't help myself at all.' The woman closes the distance between us. 'Long dark hair, light-olive skin, deep black eyes... I can't say I like the edge to them, but you could say boys like you are my weakness.' Sucking air sharply through her teeth, she continues. 'Though, obsession might be a more fitting description.'

'My lord?' Turning my head, Rachel now stands at my side.

'No fair!' The dark-skinned woman sulks while biting the forefinger of her right hand. 'I don't like competition. I'd settle this now, but I have a feeling I'll see you both soon. Really soon, in fact.' Reaching out to stroke my face, Rachel's hand grabs her wrist and the woman withdraws. 'You get one, mortal. Touch me again and I'll twist off your fingers and feed them to you.'

Facing me once more, the strange woman blows a kiss and removes herself from the dining room.

'Who was that?' Ignoring Rachel's question, I retake my place at oval the dinner table. Rachel sits opposite me.

'Have you confirmed the time and location?' I ask.

'I have. I'll have to direct you there myself. The instructions were clear. They won't meet with you unless I'm there also. Nodding at the girl, I continue with my meal.

'Um, can I order something?' Placing fifteen bronze coins on the table, I return to the pastry before me. Rachel summons the waitress and before long she's presented with a plate of battered fish with a serving of deep-fried potatoes.

Sighing in satisfaction, Rachel lets drop her knife and fork once the last flake of oily fish enters her mouth. 'My lord, It's time to go.' Leaving the table, the dining room and the inn, Rachel guides me through the town of Leafton. Turning and trailing through the now empty streets, we arrive at a dingy factory building. Smoke absent from the chimneys, the only indication this had once been a place of manufacturing, a rust defaced sign reading:

"Leafton metal works. Your labour, our profit."

'Before we go in, put this on.' Materialising from the green fog of my storage ring, I hand Rachel a white mask decorated only with a red star in the middle. Taking a black mask with a white crescent moon for myself, my attire is transformed from a plain white shirt to a form-fitting, black, buttoned shirt, a black blazer, formal black shoes and a white tie. Appearing on Rachel, a tight-fitting, white hooded t-shirt, and an ankle-length deep-blue skirt attached by suspenders to her shoulders.

'What's this?' The masked girl asks.

'It's best not to be recognised here.' I reply. Not waiting for her response, I push open the rust tainted door and enter the factory.

Oil stains line the floor of the concrete interior. Lacking the remains of steam-powered machinery I would expect from even an abandoned factory, all that meets my eyes is a circle of foldable chairs and the hidden faces of those who stand and talk around them.

A ginger-haired woman, face masked with colourful paint giving her the appearance of a clown, runs towards me. 'Wonderful, just wonderful. She screeches. 'I knew I'd see you again, though I didn't think you'd bring your bitch.' In a sudden movement, the clown-faced woman draws a knife from her side and slashes at Rachel. I grab the woman's wrist as Rachel stumbles backwards and gasps.

'Oh, you like to play rough? That's okay, I like a boy with a bit of backbone. Although, just a little bit. Fingers elongating into onyx claws and legs melding into the tail of a snake, the woman rises above my height. In an obscene blending of laughter and hisses from her now forked tongue, her face shifts until it resembles an amalgamation of a human and a serpent.'

The creature strike at me. I block the attack with five layers of barriers formed of translucent energy. Manifesting my tentacles, I swipe at the head of the monster. Almost faster than my eyes can process, she slithers out the way of my attack and flings herself forward, claws extended in my direction.

Wrapping Rachel in one of my four tentacles, I use the other three to propel us a distance away from the lunatic's oncoming assailment.

Relentless, the woman pursues. Forming spears of Tension against her, she effortlessly doges their trajectory and moves in for another strike. Claws closing in, I dispel the tentacles and surge Tension through my arms and into my hands. Forming internal patterns along my fingers with the tide of power, my hands darken and morph. They cover in dark-blue fur, and my nails harden into claws. Bolts of electricity dance across my fingers. I release that energy directly at my aggressor.

She leaps out of the way.

'Yo- you're a body Tension Master?' The snake thing hisses in what sounds like surprise...

Or maybe-

She renews her laughter. 'I just knew we were meant to be.' What is she laughing about? For her entertainment, I've wasted fifteen, no, sixteen of the thirty Arts I'm able to use without expelling corruption. 'I want you all to myself', she says. 'I need you all to myself.' She lunges once more.

'Vice-captain, Huntress!' A voice booms. Stopping in her tracks, the snake-lady relents in her aggression. 'I think you've had enough fun for now. Remember, we have a job to do. As it stands, even with a corruption potion, you've already halved the number of Arts you'll be able to cast today. The boy probably only has a few left himself.'

The woman retakes her human form. A man wrapped from head to waist in bandages, wearing a scarlet trench coat, comes to her side. Shaking his head, he walks past the woman. Standing in front of Rachel and me, the bandage covered man extends his hand. I take it.

'I'm sorry about our vice-captain, she forgets herself at times.'

'Who are you?' I ask, adrenaline coursing through my body.

'Me? I'm the captain of this dark guild. We've been expecting you. Both of you.' He says, gesturing at Rachel by my side.

'Welcome, Reaper. Welcome, Iris.'

'Welcome to the Black Parade.'