Part 3
“I shall be late back today, Little Verdure, I have to go by Rootspan Square after the Tower of Inquiry.” Meishen reminder her companion. She was originally planning to spend the evening cultivating, she was working towards opening up a new heart meridian but delivering her new contract to the High Commissary took priority over that.
“Have a great day!” Came back the youthful reply, even as Meishen watched the young wyrm coil himself up for an early morning nap. Oh to be a reptilian spirit beast, for whom even napping was productive. Little Verdure could nap and snooze and sleep and still grow stronger. Meishen had to focus on every moment of her active cultivation, to clean out and open her meridians one by one. Even worse, had to battle her way through the Thicket on her way down to the Tower of Inquiry and survive not one but two tutoring sessions in one day. Little Verdure would practise his hibernation all the while.
Still, Meishen didn’t truly begrudge him his relaxation. He was a most loyal companion and his struggles would come as he drew nearer to maturity, when he would have to shed his skin more than once as he grew both larger and stronger. She would rather endure the steady labours of her chosen path of cultivation than the painful, arduous bursts of intense growth that so many reptilian spirit beasts had to survive.
She was not anticipating an enjoyable day though, that much was true. Elder Farafiti was as much of a hard taskmaster as Elder Tola, in her own way. To study under both in one day was not a common occurrence precisely because of how fatiguing even one such session would be. Two, in sequence? Meishen had packed a small pouch of Dewdrop Mint candies, a common snack among outer disciples for its revitalising effects. She would need the energy.
The habitual slog through the Thicket gave way to a grey but clear day as Meishen wended her way between Cherry Hall and the Commissary. Weak autumn sunshine tried to brighten the skies but there was no warmth in the sunlight at all to keep the chill breeze at bay as she walked down the road alongside the Needle. Outer disciples were not allowed to cut through the Glen, unless accompanied by an inner disciple or elder, and the paths were warded to prevent this. That left only the riverside road and that was unreasonably damp and chill so close to winter. Meishen wasn’t so advanced in her cultivation to shrug off cold weather like a tough second or any third-realm might. She tugged at the high collar of her gemstone green robes as if she could just hide her entire self behind the enhanced fabric of the Sect’s standard uniform.
The Tower of Inquiry eventually loomed large over her, a many-roofed pagoda that stretched up as if to pierce the skis above. It was not entirely, or so rumour had it, fixed in the mortal world. That was how it could house entire lecture halls and labs, offices, workshops and more for every sect elder who wished for it. A less famous display of the Sect’s power but one that had begun to lose its impact on Meishen, as it had her peers. Limitless space was not so impressive when you knew the space was filled with books, scrolls and demanding tutors with gruelling assignment schedules.
Elder Tola had her workspace several floors up in the tower, Elder Farafiti on the other hand was only on the second floor above the grand entrance foyer. Two sweeping, carved wooden staircases descended from the gallery above to touch down onto polished obsidian flooring. An elaborate, many-coloured hanging lantern arrangement formed one immense glowing chandelier, the chain vanishing back up through the core of the tower into distant darkness. Smaller lights hung from the brightly painted pillars circling the hall, casting yet more light over the echoing room. The foyer served as both an entrance to the tower, complete with an ornate marble desk behind which several administrative staff waited to assist those who required it, and also as an informal work space for disciples. Tables, benches, booths lined the majestic, open hall in between the pillars, flanked by decorative bookcases and cabinets that were crammed with study materials and sheaves of paper. The Tower of Inquiry was always open to those with inquisitive minds, or at least its entrance hall was.
Meishen didn’t see anyone she knew particularly in the hall as she passed through to reach the stairs, but most of her friends were heavily-combat focused. If they were anywhere, the would be sparring at the Quarry or in the Palace of Vigour, working on their martial prowess. She slipped through the foyer to the stairs and headed up the carpeted rise to the first floor, where she then circled around on the gallery overlooking to foyer to a second, slightly less ornate pair of sweeping stairs that curved around the chandelier’s hanging chain - as thick as Meishen’s thigh and entirely motionless under the weight of the lantern cluster below - to reach the second floor. Here, Meishen turned off the gallery around the tower’s core to head down a corridor hung with rich tapestries and old, faded paintings of events that happened hundreds of years ago. She did wonder sometimes if there were sect members she’d not met nor heard of yet who had seen such events with their own eyes?
Meishen’s mentor was definitely not so ancient as to have seen history playing out before her eyes, but Elder Farafiti was exceptionally well-travelled. The bronze-skinned woman with her close-cropped black hair was renowned across the Empire as an immortal chef of significant skill and experience. Someone who could produce dishes whose benefits would be felt by even fifth or sixth realm cultivators and amaze the most refined palettes from Grendan to Shunieble. Ingredients from the far south coast’s thriving seas, from the eastern isle’s tropical climes, from the sparse slopes of the northern mountain ranges, Farafiti had cooked all over the Empire, had learned the local recipes and techniques from so many regions that Meishen suspected some memory-enhancing Arts allowed her mentor to remember all she had learned. Certainly no ordinary mind could hope to hold onto the details for such a vast variety of dishes and ingredients.
There was no little waiting area, no disciple at a desk to vet all visitors, no waiting to see Elder Farafiti. The entrance to her workspace was simply a relatively plain door off the hallway. Meishen knocked on the wood and waited for a moment. The door unlatched with a quiet click and swung inwards in wordless invitation. On the other side was a small office area: merely a bookcase behind a desk and chair on one side and a table with some chairs for small meetings on the other. The rest of the room was dominated by pristine white stone worktops over solid wood cabinetry in a rough square shape, a large central island in the middle of the square, with a bank of ovens, stove tops and stasis boxes at the far end. It was bigger than Meishen’s entire cottage, let alone any specific room therein, another of the tower’s extended spaces.
“Ah, you’re here.” Farafiti said, looking up for just a second from a workbench at the near end of her gleaming kitchen, where she appeared to be sorting through bundles of fresh herbs.
“Good morning, Elder.” Meishen gave her a quick bow, before passing through the small office space to the kitchen. She had been been working with her mentor for nearly two years now, she knew what Farafiti expected of her already. First, she washed her hands, thoroughly, at a sink dedicated to hygiene and then she stood by the central workbench in the spacious kitchen to await instruction. Only then would Farafiti pay her any mind. An unclean chef was no chef at all, according to the higher-realm instructor.
Meishen did not have to wait long for her mentor to beckon her over to the workbench with the herbs.
“Here, these are all bundles of nectarleaf.” Farafiti began without preamble, “a very basic herb, used to add sweetness to many dishes and components, or refined to make sugar, syrups and other basic ingredients.” She waved a hand in a gesture encompassing all the various bundles. “Even your basic ingredients have a significant impact on the end result of your cooking. Being able to select the best quality produce is therefore an important skill, for the most basic ingredients especially. Poor choices early on will limit the potential of your dish from the very start.”
Meishen looked at the bunches of nectarleaf, each one looking superficially the same as its neighbours. She had a sudden suspicions that this tutorial session would be deceptively difficult.
“These bundles of nectarleaf all come from local merchants, all were gathered from the Sect’s lands. Some, however, are flawed. Choose the best three, and of those, rank them in order of most to least usable in qi-infused cuisine.”
“Yes, Elder Farafiti,” Meishen accepted her task, mind already racing ahead into potential flaws, categorisations for the herbs, testing methods she could use.
“You many use any of the kitchen equipment or your usual tools.” Farafiti informed her, before heading over to her desk to busy herself with paperwork or perhaps a newly delivered collection of folk recipes from some esoteric corner of the Empire.
Meishen drew in a deep breath, you can do this, she told herself, and set to work. First, she grouped the herbs by their visual quality. Broken stems, torn and bruised leaves, these were grouped together. Undamaged but looking a little limp, sickly or wilted, these were another group. Then the most average looking herbs formed another group, the ones that would not look out of place on most merchant’s shelves. Lastly, the bundles of herbs that had the most vibrant green and yellow leaves, the thick and healthy stems, the plants obviously rich with nectar, these were the last group.
Then there came the more thorough tests. Each group, one by one, was processed. Meishen weighed, measured, and analysed, estimating nectar contents and sugar levels, age, moisture levels, the proportions of the namesake leaves of each bundle to the less useful stems, it was all useful data. She even brought out her little cauldron of qi quantification, to measure the trace amounts of qi that would be just marginally stronger in plants from sect lands, where earth and wood-qi were conventionally potent.
After hours of testing and deliberating, sorting within each group, sorting across groups, re-testing, deliberating and then re-deliberating, Meishen felt she had her best three bunches of nectarleaf. She even had an order for them for use in cooking. She just hoped most fervently that she had not missed something.
“Elder Farafiti, I have decided on the best three bunches of nectarleaf.” Meishen announced, prompting her mentor to look up from her work.
“Very well, let us discuss your choices.” Farafiti said, most certainly already aware of all of Meishen’s work for the past hours. Few cultivators of third realm of higher did not have some sort of enhanced sensory capability. Meishen personally considered Farafiti as likely to have a remote vision ability of some sort alongside enhanced senses of taste and smell. Nothing that occurred in Farafiti’s kitchen could ever slip by the immortal chef unnoticed.
“Yes, Elder.” Meishen ducked her head, nervous. She had come to the Sect of Deepest Earth specifically to try and gain Farafiti’s mentorship. There were not that many who chose cooking and cuisine as their focus as cultivators, there was only one teaching in a sect that Meishen had any chance of entering. The last thing she wanted was to ever disappoint the older woman.
“Hmm,” Farafiti considered the three bunches of nectarleaf singled out on the worktop. “Explain these choices to me.”
“Yes, Elder Farafiti,” Meishen said, trying not to let the nerves of this impromptu test be heard in her voice. “This would be my third choice,” she gestured to a bunch that had slightly bruised leaves but was otherwise intact. "It is not in pristine, or even average condition, but it has very high levels of qi. This is mostly wood-qi. It may only be used as a processed ingredient as the quality is not good enough to be used as-is, but it will work the best of these herbs for a dish that requires a processed sweetener with strong qi traces.
“This is my second choice.” She continued, this time indicating a perfect looking bundle of nectarleaf. “It has only average levels of qi, but is exceptionally sweet with a high sugar content and plenty of moisture. It will work well added directly to dishes or as a processed ingredient, when sweetness is the main priority.”
The last bunch was perhaps the worst of the ‘most vibrant’ section, just barely qualifying as healthier-looking than the average plants. “These are the best of the selection, as I can judge them.” Meishen swallowed down the ball of anxiety trying to creep up her throat and stifle her words. Farafiti’s face conveyed no information to her at all. “They are of good appearance and could be added directly to a dish, they have enough qi to contribute trace amounts to a dish without being overpowering, the sugar content is a little stronger than normal. They will work well when processed also.”
“Why not use the finest looking bunch?” Farafiti asked, giving no impression of agreement or otherwise. “Used together you would then be able to take advantage of the strongest qi, the sweetest plant and the best looking nectarleaf at once, by combining in your dish.”
“Ah, well, uh-” Meishen shook her head a little. This was no time to let anxiety control her decisions. She knew what she was doing. “This one tastes best. The sweetest is very sweet but a little too sharp. The qi-heavy leaf is very mild. Out of all the bundles, this one,” her chosen best-of-the-bunch lay there, unassuming, “has the best taste of all of them.” She dropped her gaze, nerves finally getting the better of her.
“You’re right.” Farafiti said, simply. “If you want more qi or sweetness, a better appearance, then you can obviously single out those traits, but it is always important to remember that taste matters too. An unappealing dish that gives amazing benefits will only be appreciated for as long as those effects last. The memory of an exceptional dish in terms of taste, texture, experience, that can last for a lifetime. Do not underestimate the importance of taste in your ingredients.”
“Ah-” Meishen dipped into bow, her cheeks burning red. “-yes, Elder Farafiti.” Her nervousness suddenly seemed embarrassingly superfluous, of course Farafiti would understand what set this bunch apart from the rest. She was the master chef, after all.
“Now,” Farafiti continued after a moment, “let us discuss your stew recipe. How are you progressing?”
And so began one last hour of tuition. Meishen offering up the best of her practice batch and eagerly drinking in every last word of advice and critique that Elder Farafiti would give her. Directions on the seasoning, the cooking of the meat, the timing of various steps in the process, and of course a discussion about how to refine the infusion that lent the dish its additional effects. She only had a fortnight left now, to bring the recipe up to a standard the elder would approve of. Every drop of information here was as valuable as the rarest spices in the Empire to Meishen, she could not advance in her craft without it.
Nor could she indulge in it endlessly. The hour came to all to soon an end. Elder Farafiti dismissed Meishen with her typical understated manner. The woman was not one for flowery speech. Meishen bowed respectfully and departed, heading back out to the tower core and its ring galleries, stacked above each other. Each floor’s stairs were offset by the same angle from the ones below, such that they formed, from below or above, a dense spiral around the chandelier chain.
Idly considering the way the building focused itself on the chain and the enormous lamps hanging from it, Meishen turned over the idea in her head that the chandelier and its chain were more than just a light. Perhaps some formations of significant import were wrought into the heavy metal links, or woven into the paper screens of the lanterns? Such idle musings occupied her mind as she climbed flight after flight of stairs, a mint-flavoured candy slowly replenishing her energy as she went. Elder Tola’s rooms were higher up than Elder Farafiti’s.
Up, up where there were only seven, then six, then five openings off the gallery of each floor. There were no more corridors either, each open archway lead only to a small lobby before the doors to a single workspace. Some were arranged as Elder Tola’s was: a desk and an outer disciple on duty to greet visitors and announce guests - or shoo away nuisances - but others were furnished as lounges for casual conversations and gatherings, as libraries, as galleries, as workshops. No two Elders seemed to have the exact same idea as to how their lobby should be used.
Meishen did not have to deal with the same disdainful disciple at the desk outside Elder Tola’s rooms this time, instead it was a scrawny girl who was startled out of a state of intense focus over a monstrously heavy tome when Meishen’s footsteps rang out on the stone floor of the lobby. The other girl seemed a little embarrassed to have been caught focusing so deeply on her studying to the detriment of her duty as concierge. She announced Meishen to Elder Tola and had her hustled in through the door rapidly, perhaps keen to have Meishen back out of sight as soon as possible, the quicker to recover from that lapse in awareness.
“Good afternoon, Meishen,” Elder Tola was not seated at her desk this time. She was stood before a workbench not far in front of the door to her greenhouse. On it, were a jade slip, a dull iron cube, a leather-bound tome, and Meishen’s Dewdrop Mint. It looked the image of good health, with vibrant pale blue-green leaves drooping slightly under the weight of its namesake beads of water. It had even grown a little larger than when Meishen had dug it out of the ground by The Cut.
“Good afternoon, Honoured Elder Tola,” Meishen returned the elder’s greeting with her own, accompanied by a polite bow.
“Let us begin,” the elder wasted no time on pleasantries. “You have presumably studied qi transfer, we will start with you demonstrating your understanding of this skill.” She gestured with a flick of her fingers and the metal cube gently floated up off the desk and drifted towards Meishen. “This device stores qi and then crystallises it slowly. It is a common practice tool for qi transfer into delicate arrays. Its array will create an artificial spirit core with the same alignment as the stored qi. The device will glow brighter the faster you transfer your qi into it, and will process quickest if you keep it filled within certain limits. I would like to see you feed qi from the slowest to fastest rate you can, and then we will move on to holding a steady rate of transfer.”
Elder Tola made it sound very simple, but Meishen was sweating by the time she had managed to get anything above a trickle of energy into the cube. Just trying to ram qi into the metal meant a lot of wasted energy and no actual transfer. Instead, Meishen rapidly realised that the reason different arrays, talismans and enhancements were used for the same thing was partially because each variety had its own limits on what form or flow of qi it would accept. This had been th reason for that scroll she had found. The cube was not too demanding, being able to accept any mix of elements, but the qi did have to be threaded in and fed into a specific part of its array. It felt like trying to thread a needle with energy, but with only one hand free for the work. Meishen’s cauldron for testing only required a gentle, directionless touch of power to function as did the qi-infusions for her cooking, this very specific application of her power was initially quite draining to maintain for more than a few seconds.
She eventually managed to get the cube up to a dull red glow, then up to a cherry red, an orange glow, but could not feed in enough power to get anything brighter. Her qi reserves were also emptying relatively quickly by that point. She conceded defeat and instead turned to Elder Tola, who had watched her work without a single hint of disappointment or otherwise, for instructions on how to hold a steady rate.
That turned out to be an equally tiring exercise, one involving a great deal of focus on the, as Meishen felt it, weight of the thread she was feeding into the cube rather than the speed at which she fed it. Keeping the qi flowing into the cube was hard enough, keeping a perfectly steady flow in all the while was even worse.
Eventually, Elder Tola considered her control sufficient for the required purposes. Meishen spent the next fifteen minutes feeling the qi in the cube, trying to gauge the quantity it stored. Elder Tola changed it in a split second after every guess, pulling qi in and out of the cube with thoughtless ease. Meishen once again was reminded of how relatively new she was to cultivation. Some, like Layfon, took to it like ducks to water and climbed to new heights every day. Others, like her, had to put hours of practice in for every scrap of progress earned.
“Very well. You will need to spend the next week practising further,” the elder announced. “The pot has qi to last a week before needing more energy to maintain optimal levels. It will last another week after that but refilling it will be slow and inefficient at that point.”
“Yes, Elder Tola,” Meishen accepted her instructions gratefully. At least Elder Tola thought her capable enough to keep the mint alive, even if she wasn’t perfect at the skill of qi transfer yet.
“The slip contains the basic Arts of any horticulturalist working with spirit plants.” Elder Tola explained the other items on the table, “and the book is a tome on the keeping of such plants, their care, garden arrangements and such other fundamentals of theory. You are to study these as much as you practise your transfer skills. All three are necessary to begin keeping your own spirit plants.”
“I will do as you say, Elder Tola,” Meishen was already thinking how best to fit these added commitments into her schedule alongside her basic cultivation time, classes, cooking and so on. It would require a little rearrangement of her routine, and maybe fewer meetings for tea and chatter with Mifi, Naruki and Felli. She would definitely need Inner Disciple Hardy to make those deliveries too, there was no way she could practice these new skills as well as her current ones and make time for extensive hunting and foraging too.
It would be worth it. First, this Dewdrop Mint, but then there would be others. She would need to keep an eye out for young enough plants to survive being relocated and also for vessels suitable to hold them while she was in the outer sect and could not plant her own true garden, but she would eventually have her own collection of useful spirit plants. One day. This was just the start.
“Very well. You may take the mint plant, and I shall expect you to keep me apprised of its development.” Elder Tola added.
“I am very grateful that you have helped me with this endeavour.” Meishen bowed again, conscious that this was not among the skills Elder Tola had originally agreed to tutor her in. The austere woman had only taken her on as a student in herbalism because Farafiti had made the suggestion and because Meishen already knew the basic properties of most spirit plants in the region of Regia, the sorts of facts one could find in any basic encyclopaedia of local flora. Elder Tola was sparing her the time for lessons as a favour to a colleague, Meishen would not be seen taking advantage of this generosity without at least showing her gratitude.
“Yes, of course.” Elder Tola received her gesture of appreciation with a wave of one perfectly manicured hand. “Now, away with you. I shall see you again for our next lesson a fortnight hence.”
Meishen made her polite farewells, collected her leafy mint in its new, gold-filigreed enamel coated pot, and made her departure from the Tower with all haste. She had to drop this treasure back at her home, to join her mundane herbs in their plain terracotta pots outside the front of her cottage, and then reach Rootspan Square before the High Commissary closed for the night. She had planned to just carry it up there, but given the obvious value of the pot, the tiny array set into the enamel… Such detailed gold work appeared like decorative elements but it was there to take any qi in and convert it into the exact mix of element qi the Dewdrop Mint needed, and Meishen was sure there would be spirit stones or some other elemental materials behind the glossy black enamel. Far too precious to be lugged about the sect grounds like a sack of junk.
The outer disciples in the sect were not supposed to attack, sabotage or steal from their peers. Competition was encouraged, as was dueling, sparring, vying for trade deals and production contracts. Cutthroat competition of the most ruthless sort was allowed, but outright criminal behaviours like burglary and murder were not permitted. Still. Meishen had a set of protective arrays that warded her cottage. She did not have the same protective arrays about herself.
From the sheltered front portico and the tiny garden she had created there to the rear wall of her cottage, it was all covered by a comprehensive suite of arrays to detect, deter and raise the alarm if any tried to intrude. Even those attempting to use Arts to render themselves intangible or only partially in the mortal plane would trip over one or other of Meishen’s arrays. She was not good at combat Arts, but the meticulous labour of writing or carving the characters and sylphs for most lower-realm arrays was something she could handle better than most other first-realms. It was a pity that disciples could not readily compete on the strength of such things, she would be far batter perceived had she at least the thin veneer of acceptability that would have brought her.
She felt not the least concern leaving her newly potted mint in full view for anyone who hiked through the Thicket to her cottage. She knew her anti-thievery wards best of all ward types, no outer disciple would be taking her Dewdrop Mint and any inner disciple had better things to be doing than robbing their juniors. She did feel more than a little tired though, faced with having to slog back out of the Thicket and make her way up to Rootspan Square rather than heading in the front door, making dinner and getting to work on clearing the last of the debris out of her heart meridian.
Her newly augmented schedule would allow for no idle time, however. The sooner she started getting her core ingredients delivered rather than having to go out looking for even the most basic items, the more time she would have for cultivation and practice. That required the High Commissary have the contract on record.
The walk up to Rootspan Square was long, even using the sect roads and their helpful arrays. For inner disciples with their more advanced cultivation and more powerful Arts, the trip from the Tower of Inquiry to Rootspan Square was a trifle, to a disciple still in the first realm of Qi condensation, still learning basics Arts and working on opening up enough channels and accruing enough qi for a foundation, it was a bit more of a trek. Up and around The Glen where outer disciples could not go, then between the picturesque scenery of Springdeep Waters and the heavily-warded sparring grounds of The Quarry where martial disciples fought and trained at all hours. Then, across the old, ornate stone bridge over The Cut and into the Sect’s focal point: Rootspan Square, home of Earthdeep House and the mighty Skyspan Tree. The autumn sun was sinking down behind the pink haze of the blossoming cherry tree that dominated the square by the time Meishen reached it.
The pale grey stone flags of the square were awash in pink and red light, the last of the sunlight filtering through the dense canopy of the Skyspan Tree and its innumerable, dainty pink blossoms, sending lazy streaks of fiery colour across the stone slabs and up the elaborate facades of the Square’s handful of buildings. All were heavily carved and decorated with painted stone pillars meeting gold-edged roofs, inlaid woodwork side by side with richly embroidered fabrics. All of it wrapped in layer after layer of enhancement work and subtle arrays. Truly the Sect spared no expense and no effort in the construction and maintenance of its main square. Not that any of the ornamentation could hold a candle to the raw, natural majesty of the Skyspan Tree, whose canopy of unending flowers spread out so as to shade almost the whole square and whose trunk was draped in charms and tokens. An etching of a gate glowed with a subdued green light, halfway up, marking the entrance to the hidden realm where the majority of the sect’s most powerful elders and core disciples lived. Many aimed to earn passage through that gate, few succeeded.
Meishen stopped only briefly to admire the scene as she reached the square. The looming titan that was the Skyspan Tree, the imposing aura of the Earthdeep House on the far side, she had eyes only for the slightly less imposing High Commissary. It sat alongside Earthdeep House, like a smaller sibling, but still radiating an authority of its own. This was where all disciples above outer issued, accepted, handed in commissions and requests, where elders and core disciples delegated tasks out to the rest of the sect, where one’s standing in the sect could rise or fall depending solely on one’s own efforts. It was also where disciples had writs, scrips and contracts ratified by the sect itself.
Meishen felt inordinately nervous, her heart tendering away behind her ribs as she climbed the steps up to the Commissary entrance. The polished hardwood doors were open, as they always were when the Commissary was in operation. It was only for the night hours that the building closed up. Not that the open doors meant the place was cold and draughty. Meishen stepped across the threshold and immediately felt as if she had been inside in the warm for hours. The chill and damp of the late evening vanished in the blink of an eye. There was only a feeling of mild warmth, as if she had been in this place all day where small wall-mounted braziers around the room kept the air comfortably heated.
Room probably wasn’t the best word for it. The Commissary serving the outer disciples was a smaller building and most disciples only ever saw the main room which was just large enough to hold the long counter from where officials handed out and collected commissions and a crowd of disciples mulling over what jobs they would take on next. To begin with, the noise was nearly deafening, countless voices chattering, calling, shouting to friends, allies, opponents. Above it all a giant paper lantern hung, positively dripping with charms to which ends Meishen could not even begin to guess, shedding light over the centre of the hall where the wall braziers' flames could not illuminate. A mural of ancient sect disciples fighting some mythical demon beast sprawled across the ceiling above the lantern, as if the infuse the disciples below with fighting spirit, the determination to achieve their goals.
No, this was most certainly not a mere room for outer sect admin, it was more of a hall. A grand hall, even. Spacious, with that painted ceiling looming high above, supported by thick marble pillars festooned with notices and posters. The High Commissary’s main hall could house tenfold more people than its little sibling by the Thicket. Even the counters where officials served up tasks and merit points to disciples were bigger as well as more ornate, not that they could avoid the stacks of scrolls, stone slips and paperwork any better up here than down by the Thicket. If anything, there were far more piles of documentation lying around up here.
Wealth and power cannot buy anyone a clear desk it seems, Meishen thought to herself, as she peered around at the densely packed throng of disciples before her, looking for a way through to the back of the queues for the counters. She hadn’t the power or the influence to barge her way around the outer sect areas, even thinking of doing so here would get her in hotter water than she dared imagine. Best to slip through unobtrusively, and not offend any of the horde of inner disciples all trying to get their business done and signed off as of five minutes ago.
Gold trim, hanging charms, tinkling silver bells, heirloom weapons and dangling hairpin ornaments glittering with gemstones, Meishen could not help but add up the value of all the ostentatious decoration on the disciples around her as she made her way through the crowd. She bowed, clasped hands before her, apologised and excused left, right and centre as she tried her hardest not to cause any undue offence to the vastly more powerful people she was passing by. It was hard going, trying not to jostle, bump or disturb any of them and she tired enough to begin with. Worst of all were the unadorned inner disciples. Those were, from her scant experience in such matters, usually the ones with reputations and power that needed no tacky displays or blatant flaunting of wealth and disdained such trifles. Accidentally treading on the toes of one of those disciples would be far more dangerous than bumping into some sibilants trading on their clan’s influence and not their individual prowess.
Especially since those in plainer robes were usually renowned martial disciples. Artisans and crafters usually still had some indication in their dress or their accessories as to their field of work. Fighters needed no such displays.
The time taken to slip through the crowd, paying particular attention to avoiding getting underfoot of any of the more intimidating or obviously dangerous inner disciples was much more than Meishen had anticipated. The outer sect Commissary was busy too but nowhere near as bad as this, and not so nerve wracking either. She wanted to regret her decision to spend her whole evening making this trip, but the phantom weight of the contract in her interspatial ring drove her through the crowd and her own anxiety.
She joined the queues reaching out towards the counters eventually, more than a little tense after the unexpected ordeal. Patiently, rather preoccupied with trying to steady her nerves, she waited to be seen by an administrative official. The line ahead slowly inching closer and closer to the counter in front of her with every passing minute, marked only by the ebb and flow of the chatter all around and the subtle rhythm of an unseen but barely heard clock ticking gently along.
There was some localised array in place around the counters, something they hadn’t bothered with for the other commissary. It muted the sounds of the horde of people at Meishen’s back as she eventually stepped up to the desk before her, leaving her feeling as if she’d stepped into a different room, the racket strangely distant from her ears. She heard the official’s impatient clearing of his throat very clearly though, and hurried to pull her precious cargo from her ring before his scowl could deepen. The man was not particularly notable in appearance, just another person in officiate’s robes, but he had a thunderous look growing on his face. Meishen tried very hard not to let her hands tremble as she trough the contract out from storage. As if he needed to remind her that she was not truly welcome here, that she had not earned a place in the Inner Sect. She was well aware.
The look dropped entirely from his face as soon as she held the neatly tied roll of paper out to him, the Binding Cord wrapped about the contract gleaming in the warm, rich lighting of the hall.
“I have bought this to be verified and filed.” She said, bowing politely to the official as she offered the contract to him.
“Very well. I shall verify the contents of this, and if the document is adequate, it shall be kept on Sect records.” The man said, not quite as blandly as he would probably have liked to. Meishen thought she saw a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as he took the contract from her. If she had needed to ask Loss himself to discover this type of contract was possible, how rare was it for an outer disciple to show their face at the High Commissar to have one ratified? The poker faced officials of the sect were notoriously hard to rouse to anything other than their duties, but here she had one showing some curiosity. An achievement, really, if not one she’d ever be able to brag about.
“Please,” was all she said as he set the contract on the counter and touched his sect seal to the Binding Cord. A token of the Sect’s authority, the touch of the carved jade stylus was enough for the cord to slither and twist itself out of its knots. The paper unrolled a little once the binding was laying flat on the counter and the official lay it out then weighted it flat so he could read it.
An uncomplicated document in wording and scope, it did not take him long at all, barely a minute, but Meishen saw his eyes catch on the numbers and rates, and saw him blink at the names at the bottom - who could miss those strange runes - then return his gaze to the top of the sheet to read the entire thing again. Now she was certain he wanted to know more, she could see it in the way he started tapping a finger on the counter as he read back through the contract. In truth, she’d like to know more too, she still had shockingly little clue as to why Disciple Hardy had elected to enter such an arrangement with her, a mere second year outer disciple of no renown or fame, not even truly notorious.
“Very-” The official rolled the contract back up and tied it with a new cord, a pale green one this time with red tasselled ends, the purpose of which Meishen had no knowledge. “Very well,” he finished, as the knot was tightened to his satisfaction. Now he made eye contact and Meishen was reminded quite forcibly, if not deliberately by the man, that all the sect officials were at least third realm, most of them being fourth or higher. His gaze was only that of a nosy bureaucrat itching to solve a conundrum but it bore through her nonetheless like a strong wind buffeting a mere scrap of paper.
“This contract is adequate, it will be filed away and the arrangement kept on record. Failure to abide by the terms within by either party will be penalised by the Sect and work outside the scope of the agreement likewise.” The official gave a very rote declaration, and then tucked the contract away beneath the countertop.
“Thank you very much,” Meishen gave him a grateful bow, hands clasped before her.
“You are welcome, Disciple Torrinden.” The official gave her the uncommon courtesy of a slight bow in return, and then his gaze went to the person behind her in the queue. A clear dismissal and one Meishen took gladly. The sooner she was out of this place the better.
She had achieved what she set out to do, now she wanted nothing more than the sanctuary of her little cottage, the company of Little Verdure, the calm brought by a soothing cup of tea.
The uplift of hope, the hope that she might just make it along her chosen path after all.
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