Ranvir’s cane fell to the floor as he opened his door. “Shit,” he muttered, leaning it back up against the wall. “Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” the messenger said. She wore the garb of the psykimes, fashioned with the quill and eye on her tunic. “Ranvir?”

He nodded.

“One package from the Sentinels,” she dug out a small package from her messenger bag. “Aaand, a package from,” she squinted at the label. “Kasos, I’ll need your spirit signature here.”

Ranvir accepted the packages, then pressed his thumb to a little pad she held out and forced his tether-sense into it. A moment later, she nodded and said goodbye and took off. Wind and water mana fueling her rapid paths as she sped over the rafting’s currents.

Ranvir sighed and shut the door, causing the cane to fall back onto the floor. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, kicking it up with his foot to lean against the wall. “Alright Kasos, let’s see what you got,” he picked the package whose contents he didn’t know first.

Tearing through the paper, it revealed more of his puzzles. Even a quick glance revealed the leap the old man had set before him. Ranvir’s most difficult clear had been seventeen-fold, which had taken him most of a month. There was only one in this package, despite it being the size of the package containing fifteen through seventeen. The twenty-fold puzzle was nearing ridiculous proportions.

It would take up all the space in his room to lay it all out. Even if Ranvir’s room was small, that was still beyond reasonable. At least, so he thought. And there were eighty stages beyond that. He shook his head and packed it away. He had too many items to deal with before he could take on this project.

Ripping open Kyriake’s package, he found his official Sentry seal and his documentation stating that he’d passed his promotional tests. They were simple papers, providing the proof he needed to begin Urityon folds.

“Finally.”

Ranvir’s cane fell to the floor as he opened the door, the gust of wind knocking it over. “Shit,” he muttered, leaning it against the wall. “Yes?”

“We’re here to begin work,” the man before him said. It was the inspector, rocky cliff face unimpressed.

“Good, good,” Ranvir replied with a smile. “I’m just grabbing the last few things before leaving. I’ll give you free rein, then.”

They nodded and stepped back. He could already see they’d put up temporary workstations. Tents to give shade, as five full-grown men watched as the builder’s tea was poured. Ranvir had only tried the drink once, and it had nearly changed his face permanently. It had been so bitter.

Damned if it doesn’t smell good, though, he thought to himself as he slipped the cane into his space. He glanced over the room. He’d gutted it, taking all the things he wanted to keep with him. Vasso and Frija were already at Ione’s.

There’d been some debate about whether they would stay at Elpir or Ione’s. Mostly, it was because they were familiar with Elpir’s place, but she already had her hands full with children. Ranvir had suggested Ione’s mansion since Vasso hadn’t been there before, so it wouldn’t feel like returning to an orphanage.

He ran through the rooms quickly, then left. “All yours, boys,” the men nodded to him as one among their number raised stone around the work area, causing the rafting’s currents to run around them. The seasons should be changing soon, though you could never be too certain with Korfyi’s mana-directed climate.

“Windbreak!” Amalia suggested.

Ranvir looked at her.

“Don’t give me that look! It’s a fine name.”

He narrowed his eyes.

She rolled hers. “What about Coldfront?”

Ranvir stumbled over his feet. “What?”

“Coldfront,” she said, waving into the air. “It’s a storm bird, right? So when a storm moves through an area, it usually pushes colder or warmer air in front of it, a cold front.”

Ranvir took in a deep breath and shook his head. “Definitely not.”

Amalia sighed and shook her head. “I’m gonna get a good one,” she raised a finger in his face. “And soon too, just you wait.”

Ranvir nodded agreeably. “Do you know which folds we’re doing this year?” he asked, changing the subject.

She shook her head. “The Bakers know, but I think you might get most of them.”

Ranvir sighed. He’d figured as much. The rafting had finally ended a few days ago, so the roads were finally drying up. Which came just in time for the cleansing to begin. The yearly event where all the grownups went through the local folds and cleared them of monsters.

Like the Sentinels did, but on a local scale, with local powers. Low-Kistios folds that a group of civilians could clear out with minimal risk, too weak for the Sentinels to bother with them. Also, it allowed the locals to keep a somewhat decent Tier of power. Ranvir’d seen what work looked like with and without powers, and he could easily attribute Korfyi’s advanced technology to them simply having more free time, by cutting down the amount of hours it took to do simple work.

“You really think I’ll get folds ‘all to myself’?” Ranvir asked, shaking his head.

“No, you’ll probably get a few hangers on, who follow behind to grab that katapetra.”

“At least it’ll be over quickly,” he muttered, trudging into the meeting place.

Already, about four dozen people had gathered. Ages ranged from seventeen to late sixties. A kortian male sat behind a desk, his apron marked with so much flour it’d intertwined with the fibers. Behind him loomed his wife, her full eight-foot tall frame. She was a humanoid mother bear, beady black eyes observing everyone intently.

“Names and levels,” the man said, his round ears twitching as he kept the records.

“Amalia and Ranvir,” Amalia said. “Urityon both.”

The baker’s ears twitched twice, then turned attention toward them. “Ah.”

“Keep your head, dear,” rumbled his wife in a loving tone. Her voice was deeper than Ranvir’s. “It’s lovely that you’re both joining us,” she flicked both ears in an inhuman gesture. Ranvir knew it was meant as welcoming, but it failed to register emotionally for him. All he could see was a bear.

“And you as well,” he said, earning him a strange look from Amalia.

“Always glad to help,” she added.

“Here, uh… here are your sections,” the baker said, handing over a piece of paper. Ranvir sighed as he noticed how many folds he had to cover today.

Vulture was having the time of its life, soaring through the fold and tearing into the enemies with its barrage of wind and water. Just strong enough to not crumble immediately, but too weak to really oppose it.

Ranvir’d picked this fold on the principles Kyriake had taught him back when she first began teaching him. She’d enjoyed sneaking in lessons about the job during downtime. The purpose of Sentinels, even Afosío, weren’t to strain themselves in each encounter. Instead, they should pick ones that fell just below their level. Something they could handle, even if things went wrong, but could breeze through when everything was good.

With Vulture here, it effectively doubled Ranvir’s capacity. He was still only cleared up to Tier 12, since bosses were stronger than the rest of the fold. Ranvir didn’t relish the idea of fighting something on the level of the crussor again. Not even with backup from another combatant. So he was happy to stick within his set range. So was Vulture.

The bird screeched loudly as it bombed a length of floral pasture, spraying soil and water a dozen meters into the sky. Ranvir smiled and followed behind, seeing the occasional creature thrown into the air as well.

Taking Vulture into folds did double duty, as both work and an easy way to strengthen their bond. Though it hurt his bottom line a little. The bird didn’t care that it was damaging the monsters beyond salvaging. It cared only that they died. He also wasn’t getting katapetra, since it wasn’t bonded with Amanaris.

The bird had instinctively denied the system’s approach. Merely petitioning the bird for a connection ran against its instincts. Vulture was a mighty warrior, a god amongst its people, so why would it bow to a bond that couldn’t even enforce itself?

Trying to explain the complexity of the situation to the dumb bird wasn’t on the table. It didn’t want to listen to him. So he let it do as it pleased. He still spent at least an hour in the morning, sitting in Ione’s garden meditating on their connection, which also seemed to deepen it.

A lot of small things did. Hand-feeding, walk in folds, spending time in the same area, talking to it, meditating on their connection, a dozen things that seemed to deepen their connection. But he still didn’t understand the endgame. What forced their situation into a merge?

He shook his head as he sensed a power greater than the rest stirring. Vulture had aggravated the boss.

Ranvir counted out the keys on the table and looked up at Ione.

She smiled at him with her grandmotherly smile. “You should’ve saved more keys for yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Ranvir waved dismissively. “I took some here and there. Treated Frija a few times, got Vasso a new wardrobe.”

“And what did you spend on yourself?” she asked, still not taking the coins.

He shrugged. “Not much,” he nudged the rectangular coins towards her. “I’ll think about it once I’ve paid you off.”

“You know,” she said after a while, and slid her weathered hand over the keys. “I didn’t think I’d live to see you pay me back.”

“Yet here we are,” Ranvir said with a smile. “I’m still in debt, just with the bank this time.”

“And you’re a little more established,” she smiled at him again and finally scooped his last payment into her own pouch. The keys clinked together as they tumbled over the table. Ranvir sighed, feeling like a weight had been released from his soul. Sure, he still had the debt for getting his new house build, but as a Sentry that wasn’t a long-term worry for him.

“You coming to Amalia and Elpir’s wedding?” Ranvir asked, leaning back in his chair.

Ione’s lips puckered, letting out a contemplative sound.

“Because,” Ranvir said, tracing a pattern on the table, his nail lightly scratching the grain. Inside, he was one big, colorful jumble of nervousness. “last night, I had to explain to Frija that you might not. When she asked me why, I didn’t know what to say… So, I guess I’m asking as much for her. ‘Why isn’t grandma Ione coming to the wedding?’”

“It’s complicated,” Ione sighed.

“This is what I don’t get,” Ranvir replied, rising to get up. “Sometimes, the intricacies of social interaction escape me. I know this. But not that complicated. If everyone’s a rope, then you tie yourself into knots and call it difficult.”

Ione gave him a skeptical look, then let out a laugh. “Pot and kettle,” she muttered. “I’ll think about it,” then she sniffed. “Don’t take that tone with me again, young man.”