“The greatest strength is not the influence bestowed by money, the prestige of victory, or even the unalienable power of levels. No, the greatest strength is integrity. Though the first three certainly are useful.”

Cadmus Balerite, retired of Baranok

Bim and Greg found Zara and Helena deep in the eastern residential district of Cardona. The latter two had been taken in by a large family of factory workers, who welcomed Bim and Greg in with open arms. As the sun hung low in the sky, the quartet sat around the fire and recuperated from the intense fatigue of the day. Nearby was a half dozen men and women, ranging in age from fifteen to sixty, but all sharing the same calloused hands and grease-stained, patched up clothes.

“Thank you for taking us in.” Bim said, sipping from a tin cup filled with steaming hot, fresh vegetable stew. “I don’t know how we’d have survived otherwise.”

Darla, a broad, dark haired woman in her late fifties, folded her arms and harrumphed. “Do ya think we would’ve just let people that’re trying to help us little folk out in the cold? I might not be some kind of Ushorin , but I’m not as stingy as that.”

Gourvitch, a man practically made of lean muscle who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, stood up straight from his place leaning on the wall and said: “Ma, I get that they think they’re in the right, but there’s a citywide manhunt out for them! You’ve seen how the Vulture of Sallain and ‘His Lordship’s’ been acting recently!” He waved his arm toward the shuttered window, where through the slats you could see distant orange torchlight and hear the tromp of boots as squadrons of soldiers cased each street. “And have you heard of the man leading the whole operation? It’s some ruthless field commander who can kill a dozen men in a blink, they’re sayin’! Word is he killed every other member of his squad!”

Darla shook her head. “Now, listen, Gour. I’ve seen a lot more of this world then ye, and if I know one thing it’s that scared people make up stories and exaggerate a man’s abilities just ‘cause he’s gotten the limelight. Besides, they said the same things about Andrium, and see where it got him.” She gave a meaningful look towards the four house guests.

Gourvitch grabbed his hair, eyes wide with frustration. “And who’s to say this isn’t just one big ploy by the Throne to crack down on all the dissent that’s been building for years? Those four might even be in on it.” He stabbed an accusing finger in their direction.

Zara rose from her seat to the right of the hearth, having to slouch to not hit her head against the ceiling. She took one step toward Gourvitch, who swallowed nervously and flinched back. “I won’t hurt you, fearful one.” Zara said, voice as deep as a riverbed, her eyes filled with emerald luminescence. “I am a of Esultare, of the Land, and I am bound by my Class and by my principles to uphold the Old Law always, enforce the New Law when it is worthy, and above all else protect and grow that which is my charge. And my three companions are my charges, yes, but so are you, your mother, your family, your neighborhood, your city, your nation, your continent, and your world. Decry me all you wish, as is your right, but do not besmirch your lips with serpentine falsehoods.” She blinked once, hard, and the green light that had filled her eyes faded, before sitting back down.

Gourvitch was struck silent, overwhelmed by a mix of fear and wonder, and the rest of the room quietly processed what they had just seen. After a time, Darla approached the . “Might I have your blessing, ?”

Zara reached out a large hand and clasped Darla’s. “I don’t have a Talent for it, ma’am, but sure. By the power of the Land, I bless you with the strength to carry the burdens that may be thrust upon you.”

In Darla’s mind, two notifications rang out.

Level 15!

Talent — conferred!

At the same time, a notification rang out in Zara’s mind.

Talent — gained!

“I leveled! And I have a Blessing!” Darla said, eyes filling with tears of joy. “I- I heard stories about the , but-- oh, Archons. Oh, Archons.”

Zara stared at her own hand, which glowed with a faint leaf-green light, then looked around the room, at Bim, Helena, and Greg. She smiled a curious, ecstatic smile. Greg met her gaze, expression belaying confusion and recognition, as if a long-forgotten memory was being dredged up from the depths of his mind.

“Zara. There are tales in Gont, tales I didn’t believe, not truly. The elders there tell that when the Demiurge, after creating Their Great Machine of levels, and before They made Man in their image, They created six Archons, as we all know, except that… The Archons oversaw the Sky, and there were six Giants in those elden days, to balance them, to oversee the Earth. The Archons grew… grew prideful, and they made war with their siblings, the Giants. And the Giants, driven to desperation by a hail of fire and thunder, merged into one being, and were sealed, made one with the Earth. They said… That some Classes, Classes of the Old Magick, are conduits of the Land’s favor instead of the Archons’.”

“That’s heresy.” Helena said, curiosity, more than umbridge, tinting her tone.

“I thought as much for so long, but seeing the power that Zara wields… I have been all across Esultare, and only seen such a display twice: the first by the of Gontad, and the second here and now, by Zara. That is the Land’s Power, undoubtedly. I feel like a fool.”

Bim grinned, hesitantly, then more fully. “I hate to say it, as it does feel like counting chickens, but I do believe we have the blessing of half of the Firstborn of Esun on our side.”