“In short, we have most of the genii but not all of them, and the Armory is a mess.” Cadmos presided over the impromptu all-officer meeting and summarized the situation. “Suggestions?”

“We can put together a Genius Hunt! Anyone can participate when they're not busy,” Tiboleus the Experimenter said, slamming the table with his little hands and setting the lens floating above them to shaking.

“Cut that out!” demanded a voice from below that nobody heeded.

Count Poitnem stood and addressed the assemblage. “The wrecked and wetted Armory must be aired out and repaired, but while we wait, we ought to hurry and help ourselves as well as we have the power to do. I suggest we establish an Armory elsewhere to contain the clutter.”

Both proposals passed with no Ultra Rares opposed and no Rares consulted. A Relocation Committee was established to determine an appropriate location for the temporary Armory and supervise its construction consisting of Count Poitnem, as he had suggested it, Aerywe Beruvo, Ben I. Sloup, Nonneros Under the Moonlight, and True Beryllia. Organizing and training the Genius Hunt was left to Knight-Master Gralles Alianura based on the understanding that Tiboleus would always be busy.

The officers voted not to strip Quircy Rau of the keep keys, each of them secretly grateful it was her on duty when the disaster befell. They also did not vote to strip her, but only because none of them dared propose it. Quite a few fantasized about it, though. Since that urge fell outside of the scope of the emergency, being more of a constant, Cadmos adjourned the meeting, and the attendees went to prepare for the next day's activities set to start about five minutes from then.

For the Rares, that should have meant Vigilant Patrol. However, Ipons Ulsrada ducked out to run with the Genius Hunt in case that turned into an event. Tramda curled up in her enigmatic Tramda Tent, immune to entreaties.

“A sticky problem,” said Quille Treten.

“I have two solutions. First! We get Hyune Giling to join.”

“I refuse.”

“Second! We farm Chapter 4 today.”

The second solution received a more favorable reception than the first. Two four-officer parties sallied to challenge the Pirates and came out on top by a score of a million to zero. By the time of their return, they were a couple levels higher, and the Relocation Committee had decided. “Perandra Regna! The far south. An area, that for some reason, mysterious, has complete textures! And birds in the sky. It's on the border with Dovesk and near East Beruvia. Not far from the Greater Gulf. It was probably planned for Chapter 5 or 6 but was never used.” Ben I. Sloup delivered the Committee's findings, and also their decision to dragoon as many officers as they could into erecting the planned buildings, SRs and URs as well as Rs.

As distant as the Sally map claimed the chosen location to be, little of the intervening terrain had been implemented, making the trip short. Wagons, including one painted orange and black for reasons difficult to understand, hauled lumber and bricks to construct three sheds in accordance with Aerywe's design. “One for important gear. One for genii. One for that which does not need to be sorted. My vision is much simpler than the underground complex some of us have suggested, impressive as that would be.” To a queen, a shed meant a big fella more than half the length of Freegate, if not nearly so wide and a little shorter.

The construction took days, even with the work of such industrious officers as Hyl DeMereanch, Trainer Eumorsedio, General Wakve, and Captain Theena, not to mention flakes like Leaznalo, Heartful Azalea, Hot Air Hank, and Kindo. The local luman four-piece band played to keep the workers' spirits up instead of helping, and Minsie of the Waves kept their spirits up by helping in plain sight. Sibyl narrated accounts of mysteries and scandals they did not fully understand, and Count Poitnem unveiled secret histories they did.

“The tale is told, my friends, that during development of the game of villains and heroes that is our home, a mode was intended but never implemented.” He had the ear of every officer on break, especially those wearing the “You Can Count on Poitnem!” shirts Reginald handed out to anyone expressing interest. “If relying on rumors is permitted, we may be confident in calling it a monthly tower mode set in an ancient castle. A reward for each room, you've heard it before. Clear as many floors as your account strength allows and wait for the reset.

“The artists cobbled together a serviceable castle. The designers populated it with enemies and traps to foil players. And then? And then nothing. The undertaking was canceled, the castle complete but unused. If completing the mode required resources, what of removing the site? Even more. Therefore the developers covered it up beneath a mound of clay and earth. And there it is!” Count Poitnem extended a ruffled wrist and pointed at a small hill a short way off. The crowd gasped and clapped.

“But is it true?”

“Ask the developers. Only they can say.”

The crews worked all the harder for knowing they labored in the shadow of legend, and that Aerywe Beruvo could stare very hard when she wanted. She could tap her foot, too. The first storehouse rose to adorn the barren grasslands. Even Jonathan Brightwater and Hilliarde Feablas dropped by to help crown the king of sheds with a roof, as occupied as they must have been with actual content. The second began its own journey toward the Lusin-blessed skies.

“We aren't getting anywhere like this!” Tramda Olex labored only after being run down by Otsk V. Zops, who dragged her to the construction site but did her the courtesy of not revealing the Tramda Tent's location. Even that foremost of hunters had not managed to bring in Evening Best, though.

“Were you getting anywhere before?” In his black toga and white tunic, infrastructure projects suited Saptres Muria better than the battlefield. His green hair, however, designated him as a man of adventure and calling out attack names.

“My level was going up. Now it's not.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but what Saptres means is that we should figure out ways to improve our standing in this situation.”

“You're wrong, Reginald.”

Reginald removed a sheet of paper, crumpled it up, and shoved it in Saptres's mouth. “Anyway, Clyse and I have developed some Eclipse exercises we'd like you all to try.”

“I don't know what that means, but I give you this warning: I am capable of anger.”

“There's nothing to get angry about, Ulrik.” Clyse took over. “Unless you want to get mad about not coming up with it. We came up with a little routine to relax and get in touch with your inner Eclipse. So you can clear your mind and let the Eclipse force flow through every pixel of your being.”

“I admit it. You were right. I feel no anger, only pity and . . . disgust? No, apprehension.”

“You're the pitiful one for not realizing everyone is qualified to be an Eclipse. None of our backstories preclude it, so why shouldn't we cultivate our Eclipse force? There's a hidden power inside you! If there isn't, the writers can make it so there is! All you have to do is find it and bring it out!” Reginald accompanied his stirring speech with an open-handed motion that seemed to invite the other Rares to join in, but none did.

“Yeah, we all know we're qualified. We just have to be popular with the players or the writers. How does your thing help that?” Dennet asked.

“Why don't you try for yourself and see? We aren't charging. ***.”

“Did you just say 'yet' under your breath? You did, didn't you? Clyse! Look at me!”

While Clyse dodged eye contact with Tramda as deftly as Inorrea Vacationer with her actives up, the other Rares conferred and agreed to pants Reginald, but only after indulging in novelty. Leaznalo announced their decision. “Very well, show us how it's done. I assure you, your dignity is at stake, though perhaps nothing can be done to preserve it.”

“If Eclipses needed dignity, Hemt T. Elf wouldn't exist,” Reginald said, which improved everyone's view of his reasoning and observational abilities. They submitted to his instruction, and he guided them to the completed shed, “for acoustic reasons.”

A few officers were occupied inside with finishing the sorting of viable equipment by set and stat. The Rares had been behaving themselves lately, no doubt as disturbed by the loss of genii as those who might have equipped them someday, and therefore the sorters viewed them with indifference or mild curiosity rather than giving them the boot.

Reginald herded his trial customers into the open center and pulled a speaker and tape player out from under the side shelves while Clyse instructed them. “Don't listen, just hear. Follow our movements. Don't think about our low stats or how little detail our designs have. Hear, move, that's it.”

“Um, I won't be thinking about my design at all, which is iconic by the way, because all I can think about is where did someone get a tape player. Does anyone still make those?”

“Did they ever, in this world?”

“Those are excellent questions, Saptres, Sindze. Contemplate them. Not the specific facts though. The mystery behind them. What do we know? What can we know? How can we know it? Let's begin.” Reginald faced them and began a series of movements that resembled Ulrik and Dennet tussling over a Common, but in slow motion. Fist forward, a shin kick, elbow to the stomach, it was all there. While he and Clyse showed them how to move, the speaker told them what to think.

"The moon . . . covers the sun . . . and the stars . . . shine bright . . . your ancient home . . . shines bright . . . your soul . . . dreams of home . . ."

“Is that . . . Oh, sorry, I shouldn't interrupt.”

“Burmin. You should.”

“Really? Thanks, Ulrik. I just wondered, is that maybe Reginald with his voice pitched up?”

“Yes.”

“I think so, yes.”

“Yeah, and it's creeping me out.”

“Doubtlessly so.”

“No refunds if you spoil your own experience.”

“You didn't charge us any money.”

“Of course, how silly of me. *** ***.”

“You said 'for now!' I know you did!”

“Hush up, Rares. Try being positive. Relax.” They noticed then that an Ultra Rare stood next to them, mimicking Reginald's alleged Eclipse moves. A blue sarong with a slit in the side for obvious reasons? A translucent veil? Luau Lua, or Lua DeMereanch Summer Version according to Lasva when she was being paid by the word, had joined them. The Rares moderated the expression of their criticism for social reasons, but society could never rule their hearts.

The routine kept Lua entranced for half an hour, at which point Clyse called for a break “to get ready for the second part.” While Lua talked to Clyse about scheduling future sessions in Freegate itself, the other Rares took the opportunity to leave with no intention of returning unless, in Ipons Ulsrada's words, “they get really popular for some reason.”

The second shed earned a roof as well. Officers stuffed the shelves with genius carriers, which resembled pet carriers but had spirits that were the embodiments of specific locations jammed inside them. Aerywe Beruvo justified the effort expended by reminding them the new storehouses could be used even after the permanent Armory had been aired out, cleaned, and repaired. Most importantly, splitting up the genii among scattered facilities might prevent similar incidents in the future.

Work began on the third shed. Externally identical to the other two, internally it lacked the racks and shelves so helpful for sorting. After more stories and concerts, laboring officers erected it, covered it with a roof, and finished the job by throwing every remaining item inside and creating a huge pile. Adamant Horseshoes and Red Vines did not beg to be sorted. Catalysts for Warper skills and Trophies for Champions could sit side by side or top by bottom. Inferno Slivers? Flood Chunks? Storm Orbs? Who was so heartless as to separate them because of their mere cosmetic and also mechanical differences? Relocation Committee member Nonneros capped off the effort by tossing in one last item.

“Hey Rex, you can't put an amulet in there. Those go in Alpha.”

“Shaddup, Rocky,” he growled growlingly. “This is a story item, see? No one equips it and we can't get rid of it, not for lack of trying, neither. So in Gamma it goes, get me?” He slammed the towering shed doors shut with his titanic, over-32,000 Attack, and none of the officers cared enough to argue over the Imperia Amulet Cadmos retrieved back in Chapter 3. Night fell, signaling the officers to return to Freegate, and if they felt a tremor, that was nothing compared to what was rumored to happen in those hours.