In contrast to the rest of the city, the bathhouse proved quite familiar to Boneroot. His village had something similar set up at a nearby spring. Though he couldn’t identify the source of the hot water at this particular location, he wasn’t complaining. As soon as his body hit the water, some of his anxieties began to melt away.

The clientele of the bathhouse was, generally, much older than Boneroot and he couldn’t identify a single cultivator among them, so he saved his social energy for the coming orientation. He instead focused on replenishing his qi and ki.

The process was significantly more pleasant under the circumstances, so it was with renewed vigor that he emerged through the wooden door of the bathhouse an hour later. As he walked out into the city street, he tried to mentally prod the tsovar in his shadow awake, but it was no use. One thing he had learned since Felindei bound the two of them was that Kuroki slept a lot and tended to get very grumpy when he was deprived of it.

He was also now fairly certain Felindei hadn’t actually bound the hellecat to his shadow in any tangible sense, but created some kind of spiritual link and then added a pocket realm which matched his shadow.

Venh was nowhere to be seen, so Boneroot looked around at the city he had been completely unable to anticipate. It went far beyond what he envisioned when Kroshieshi first told him about them in the relative familiarity of the grove. He inspected the buildings that towered over him, most connected directly to another on each side and extending all the way to the end of the road.

Suddenly, he was a lot more grateful to his former teacher for forcing him to learn how to read. It had seemed pointless right up until he walked through the gate to Mountain’s Rest. Now, he could tell that he was on Spring Street. He didn’t know what that meant, or what a street was, but he knew he was on it! Or near it, maybe.

His triumphant exploits in reading were soon interrupted by a stirring of space, then a tap at his shoulder.

“Ready for dinner?”

When Boneroot turned to face his escort, he found the usually inconspicuous Venh with streaks of black flesh marring his face and hands. The expression on the man’s face held no hint of discomfort or pain, but the boy still had to ask,

“What happened to you?”

“I paid a visit to a certain head of a certain sect and we did some light sparring.” Venh’s expression soured. “Well, that was what I wanted, but, as you can see, Grand Master Yan does not have my easy-going disposition.”

Boneroot snorted at the joke, but his mind began to race at the idea of someone besting Venh in a fight. Suddenly, he had one more reason to be excited about the Brightmoon Sect.

“I went easy on her, just so we’re clear.”

“I’m sure.”

Smiling, Venh clarified, “On a more serious note, keep that a secret. Sect Expert Danh, who stands before you, is only a high Blue-realm cultivator.”

“Of course, Danh. Do I need to keep it a secret that I know you, though? I wouldn’t want anyone to think you’ve helped me. At all.”

Rearing back in mock outrage, the glorious provider of the CHAOS YARN technique announced his supreme dissatisfaction. Then, he actually addressed the question.

“No. This year, particularly, there will be a lot of close relationships between the Sect Experts and some disciples. It’s all rather scandalous, for your information. Word has it that many palms were greased to get specific people into positions at the Brightmoon Sect in the last few months.”

Venh had to take a moment to explain the many idioms for bribery as they walked toward the restaurant where they were apparently expected. Meanwhile, the older cultivator detailed the different Sect Experts and from where they hailed. Hamagari had spared no expense in staffing the sect with its own experts in preparation for the arrival of the scions of their four major clans. Likewise, a few nobles of the Empire had a vested interest in some of this year’s disciples.

“And that’s why, when you crush all of them, I will gloat as obnoxiously as possible. If you get stabbed in your sleep by a disgruntled expert, just know I had no regrets.”

As they walked, the man had to clarify no such danger was actually present. For all his attempts at snappy banter, Boneroot was just trying to hide his nerves. He was so close now to meeting more potential friends and allies than he’d been since his village’s disappearance. It didn’t even occur to him to refute the possible crushing of anyone.

Finally, the pair walked up to the door of a building decorated with intricate, gold dragon carvings that stretched along its round, stone exterior. The restaurant almost looked like a hut from his village in shape, but on a much grander scale. After a moment’s admiration, Boneroot was hurried through the door and past a line of bowing people, servers he would come to find out.

The inside of the building was just as ostentatious as the exterior. Murals of Immortals and their accomplishments adorned most of each wall and where they didn’t, paintings and gilded displays took their place.

He was offered a seat by a disconcertingly deferential individual in colorful lace robes. However uncomfortable Boneroot felt with the ado, Venh seemed to be overindulging to make up for it. The man had his chin nearly pointed at the ceiling and his hands ceremoniously hidden in the sleeves of his robe.

Fortunately, the patrons at the surrounding tables seemed to pay no mind to the man’s over-the-top behavior. Boneroot quickly grew even less amused with Venh’s antics, however, when he noticed other disciples among them. The table nearest to him held a young man and woman wearing simple, but elegant black and white robes. The backs of the robes were adorned with a crest of some kind, but Boneroot couldn’t recall it from his lessons with Kroshieshi.

Part of him wanted to go over and introduce himself to his two newest companion candidates but another, bigger part of him was far too nervous and used Venh’s embarrassing display as an excuse to hide his face. Only then did the man try to defend himself.

“Excuse me for trying to enjoy myself. This is the most expensive restaurant in the city, I’ll have you know. Or so says my most recent sparring partner.”

The blank look he received was clearly not what Venh had hoped to see, as he went on, “Oh, come on! Money has to mean something to you!”

“Why? Everyone in the Village provided and everyone partook in kind. There was no need for little metal baubles to pass around.”

Venh would have thought the boy purposefully obtuse if his face didn’t suggest sincerity.

“Well, that’s not how it works in the rest of the Empire. Like it or not, if you want something, you have to pay for it with these ‘little metal baubles’ as you’ve said. It works a bit differently in the sect proper, but you’ll still need to get used to it. How do you plan on getting any spirit stones?”

Boneroot shrugged, but quickly reconsidered. Finally, it seemed Venh had succeeded in getting under his skin.

“They’re not provided?”

“Not like what you’re used to. I think the Outer Sect disciples only receive one or two spirit stones per month. Anything else you’ll need to earn or acquire in other ways.”

“That’s ridiculous! How are we meant to progress with such a measly amount?”

Before Venh could irritate the boy further, a deep voice sounded from a table nearby, clearly raised to be heard by all in earshot.

“Typical commoner, expecting some endless Imperial handout. Why can’t they just be grateful we allow them to attend the sect at all?”

Boneroot looked over at the speaker. The boy in the black and white robes was handsome in the way the Immortals of legend were supposed to be. His features were rugged, but symmetrical, his black hair cropped short and neat.

The other disciple, a girl with silken, black hair tied in a bun, had the same look of carefully manicured perfection. Her almond eyes glanced over to Boneroot as she added,

“Ah, don’t be too harsh. His kind never last long at the sect. Let him enjoy the moment.”

The two disciples had dropped the pretense of speaking to their companions and now looked directly at him. The others at their table had ceased their forced laughter to observe the imminent altercation.

Unfortunately for them, Boneroot’s experience in battles of repartee was limited at best. Though he felt he was being talked down to in some way or another, his desire for more friends convinced him it was due to his own lack of knowledge.

He scratched at the back of his neck as he responded to the other disciple,

“I didn’t mean to say anything bad! Sorry, I’m sort of new to all of this. I’m Boneroot, what are your names?”

He offered a wide smile and stood to go greet his fellow cultivators. Before he could take a step, however, he was halted by a round of harsh laughter. The irritation he felt at the beginning of this exchange was starting to needle into the forefront of Boneroot’s thoughts, but he couldn’t just let the opportunity go.

His mind flashed back to that first year alone in the woods, before he had awakened and before he could cultivate to occupy his mind. When he wasn’t staving off hunger or weather, he was fighting back loneliness.

Boneroot hung his head in sheepish capitulation, now grinning to hide his discomfort.

“Ah, yeah, I suppose I’m sort of dumb, huh? Sorry about that. What are your names? Maybe we can be friends? I’m sure I’ll learn more at the sect.”

The laughter grew in volume and sincerity. All the irritation Boneroot felt was being usurped by shame. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a complex expression on Venh’s face that only worsened the feeling.

Being the target of ridicule wasn’t a completely alien experience to Boneroot, but this was far worse than any teasing from the village children. Like one of those children, though, he fell back on a tried and true retort, born from the instinct of every boy pushed into the dirt one too many times.

“Let’s fight.”

If nothing else, the laughter stopped. After the moment of surprise passed, the recipient of the challenge stood. He was exceptionally tall and his muscles strained at certain parts of his robes, despite their loose cut. He glared at Boneroot and spoke in a menacing tone.

“Kid, I’m at the peak of the Red realm. You don’t want to do this.”

The boy’s smile was arrogant and his eyes held nothing but contempt. The female disciple was whispering to one of their other table members with a self-satisfied grin. Before he could ask why this boy his own age was calling him kid, or bragging about still being in the Red realm, he was cut off. Venh clamped a hand over his mouth and began to drag him out of the restaurant. Despite how casual the action looked, Boneroot had no chance of breaking from the man’s iron grip.

“Terribly sorry, young cultivators! We were actually just leaving, as a matter of fact. Much to do before the orientation, you know how it is.”

Still locked in Venh’s clutches as he waddled forward, Boneroot saw the other disciples roll their eyes, clearly not surprised by the anticlimactic conclusion.

“A wise man,” The tall boy said. “You should teach him how to apologize before we meet on the mountain. I can be reasonable, after all.”

They were almost at the door now, so Venh merely called backwards,

“Oh, certainly! Certainly!”

He dropped some gold into one of the attendant’s hands as they exited the restaurant. Back on the street, Venh’s grip dropped and Boneroot’s rage came to a boil. His eloquence was inversely affected.

“What are you doing?! Why... I could... You can’t—”

The fury pounded at his heated cheeks and throbbed in his temples. Venh offered a smile so devious it almost matched the boy’s intensity.

“Just imagine his face when he finds out you’re in the Orange realm and I’m one of his teachers.” His expression was predatory in its malicious glee as he began to walk away. “Yes, this way will be so much more fun.”

As Boneroot chased after the man to find something to eat, he realized he never even learned their names.