Augfi Jerllamo slammed his fist on the table again. “We must use this leverage now!” he bellowed. “We cannot sit by and let opportunity pass without even blinking! Can you not see what we have staring us in the face? All these generations gone, and now! Now we can act with impunity!”

The Council stared back at Augfi, some taken aback, others unimpressed at his show of intensity. One gentleman blinked and ventured to reply. “My lord, what exactly is it you are hoping to accomplish with your foreign contacts and Esclace’s most heavily-trained and well-equipped Rangers? You speak of opportunity, but you have yet to disclose what that opportunity is. Why would it involve the Rangers, not some of our successful merchants?”

“You’re so concerned with commerce,” Augfi spat the last word accusatorily. “Do you never think of our small nation itself?”

“That is what we are thinking of,” another replied. “The well-being of this people depends heavily on economic resources. Since we made contact with foreign lands, commerce has picked up significantly. Where does this commerce go? Somebody is buying and selling these goods. This is good for our people.”

Augfi huffed. “Fine. I see where this is going. You worry so much about commerce,” he nearly choked on the word, “that you fail to understand basic politics. Do not worry, illustrious Council. I, Augfi Haltrin Jerllamo, will take it upon myself to ensure Esclace’s future. I, Keeper of the Hidden Gate, Heir of the Dissident, will solve this invisible problem for you.”

“You are not getting full commitment—”

“I do not need full commitment of the Rangers! Don’t you worry, little Council. Go to sleep. I will act independently!”

Augfi turned from the table and stormed out of the chamber. A few Council members shook their heads at his sarcasm. As he passed through the grand doors to exit, two Rangers pivoted and left their post at the exit to follow him.

“Gather my Ranger Guard in my chambers immediately,” Augfi said to them.

“Sir, do you want—”

“Now! I do not require anyone’s approval or consensus for this! We act tomorrow morning as the sun begins to climb high. We must make final plans. Go.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of the two Rangers peeled off down a different corridor at a fast walk, the other continuing to follow Augfi.

They found Mynda coming the other way. “Father,” she began, “has something happened? You’re red in the face.”

Augfi stopped walking. “Am I, now? Well, let’s just say the Council is stacked with dimwits who cannot understand the simplest things. I hope you are able, because they will affect you directly.”

“What are you referring to, Father?”

He sighed and chewed his tongue. “Foreign policy.”

“…Foreign policy?” She asked, confused.

“Yes. Foreign policy. Sometimes it is all trade, like with Yallanpo, but other times, like with Indraenea, it is much more. Indraenea sees things more my way. Smart leaders there. But sometimes it must become more than only foreign policy.”

“Father, I don’t see what you’re getting at,” Mynda replied flatly. “Would you like to explain with some specific details?”

“No,” he said. “But you’ll see soon enough. And tell your mother to keep out of my affairs for the time being.”

Augfi turned and continued walking without waiting for a reply. Mynda gave one anyway, calling after him.

“You do not have me in your pocket like the Ranger Guard. I think for myself!”

Aton stood, waiting in line at the travelers’ queue at the base of the hill. The Fassendais sat atop the hill, overlooking the business being conducted on all sides. No Sageman manned the platform, which seemed odd to Aton. They had nobody on duty per se, but three or four always lived at the edge of Fassendais Hill and charged a regular rate for their assistance to travelers.

Aton wondered why Hevvlar had adopted this method for controlling off-world travel and Grendhill had not. Perhaps Harrval’s lack of a single moon influenced peoples’ attitudes somehow. Never mind that, it was probably simply a different idea that had occurred to somebody, years ago. Aton had to remind himself that Grendhill’s system was similar enough. The crown maintained a Sageman on duty at the Thallenrose, and paid him a generous salary. There were two regulars—one worked an early shift, the other worked from midday to the evening. Reedl took some time on weekends, besides living nearby the Thallenrose to be called upon in case there were some emergency. Reedl was always available to the Farella house, having served for years as the royal Sageman. Maybe Hevvlar had a different system because it was a larger city, with greater transportation needs.

“Next!” Aton snapped from his reverie and stepped up to the desk. The woman behind the desk looked at him expectantly. For a moment Aton wondered why. “Your pass, please?”

“Oh, sorry madam,” Aton apologized for his forgetfulness. Blinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather ticket, stamped with an intricate design showing an image of the city of Hevvlar beneath Harvval’s many moons. He handed it to the woman, who took it and inspected it.

“Right, then,” she said, “a free ride for you today.” She smiled, handing him a wooden token, carved with a business insignia representing the outfit of the Sage she worked for. Most people would pay her directly for a token, but Aton’s diplomatic connections paid through other channels. She pulled a ledger out from under her desk to record the transaction so her government would pay her later, and excuse her from collecting no more information from Aton. She quickly rubbed an impression from his ticket onto her ledger with a pencil, then handed his ticket back to him. “Go to the one in the yellow vest, just like mine,” she said, pointing. “Her name’s Repary. Have a good evening. Next!”

Aton stepped away from the booth, turning to walk up the hill. He glanced to his right and nodded at Kascho and Misolfa. Tido and Domire were elsewhere around the square, trying to avoid notice but standing by to provide security if anyone suspected who he was and tried to interfere. Aton wasn’t too worried, though. After all, nobody was supposed to know where the Farellas went to train, so nobody was supposed to know he was here. He had approached the Sagewoman’s clerk booth alone to avoid anyone who might recognize a Farella face, making a connection between the Kascho and the Farellas.

Aton ascended the hill, watching as one traveler after another stepped onto the Fassendais with a Sage, holding his or her belongings, then vanishing as a Sage spoke the words to send them on their way. He found it interesting that only the Sages could use these platforms. For better or worse, that was the way of things.

Aton approached a dark-haired, tall woman in a yellow vest. “Ms. Repary?”

“Yes, of course, how may I help you? Token?”

Aton handed her his token, proof that he had seen her clerk.

“Thank you, and where can I send you?” she asked.

“Tasala.”

“Ooh, just going to be aloof and say the name of the world, not the country, eh?” Repary prodded.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I guess I’m going to G—.”

“No, it’s fine,” Repary interrupted, “I was only teasing you. You’re a customer, entitled to your privacy, of course. Step up, then.”

Aton stepped up to the Fassendais, pulling himself atop the platform. Repary followed. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Aton nodded, holding the strap of his back against his shoulder.

“Alright then, here you go! Andi miti Tesala niti pondere!”

Aton found himself still trying to thank her for her help as the square disappeared before his eyes and he watched a continent shrinking beneath him.

In the shed again, Kascho picked up the lid he had been working on and handed it to Aton. “Maybe you can help me with this. I am making a little wooden chest for Uillia to put her trinkets and jewelry in, but this lid has had me stuck for over a week now. I cannot get the design right. I’ve redone it, but every time I draw it on paper it looks a little off. The few times I get it right on paper, it fails to transfer when I carve the wood.”

Aton turned the lid around in his hands. “Sounds like my life. I’m the different one. I never feel sure of what my life is supposed to me. Every time I think I get it figured out, I talk to my siblings again and it’s clear I am still just a misfit.”

“Don’t be so hard on youself, Aton,” Kascho begain.

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard it before. It was not my fault that I was born with no weapon. I accept that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was. That I am fundamentally different from my brothers and sisters. From my father. From the whole line, back to Gren Farella’s children. And the whole kingdom knows it. Many off-worlders know it. And somehow, even though everybody acknowledges that it’s not my fault, they worry.

“They worry that Aguneg’s gift has stopped following the Farella line. They worry that this means the end of Grendhill as a nation. I’m not fit to lead or protect. Even if I don’t take the throne—and how could I with no weapon of my own—what happens with my nieces and nephews, the children of whichever of my brothers and sisters does take the throne? Will they have these weapons? Will they lead with the wisdom of our ancestors? And somehow—even though everybody knows it’s not my fault—somehow I have to assure them that it will all be well. Somehow, despite all this being outside my control, it lies inside my realm of responsibility. I didn’t break it, and I cannot fix it, but somehow I have to.”

Kascho sighed, finding that he had unwittingly hit a sore spot.

“You know what, though?” said Aton, tracing the design on the woodwork in this hands. “I change my mind. This lid is not like my life. This lid actually looks great. I think it looks fantastic, and Mistress Uillia will love it.” He handed it back to Kascho.

“Wh-what? You don’t see the flaws?” Kascho inspected it again, confused.

“Sure, I see some flaws,” said Aton, “but they are so minor that they will surely come out with sanding. See, here—” Aton pointed, “—and here, it is a little misshapen. But you will need to sand it anyway to get it smooth like you’ll want it, so just sand a little bit—just a little bit—extra in these spots. It will come out even with the other side, flawless. She will love it.”

Kascho looked at the lid, inspected the points Aton had indicated, and looked at Aton again, smiling. “You’re right! I can’t believe it, you’re right. I have been banging my head against this workbench for days, and the problem will be solved with a bit of sanding! Thank you!”

Aton blushed shyly. “Well, sure. No problem, it’s just, I don’t know…”

Kascho looked at Aton cheerfully. “I was being too critical with my work. I needed a fresh perspective, and then I could see what you saw. You know? Maybe you just need a little bit of sanding yourself. A fresh perspective, and you’ll see yourself and your imperfections for what they truly are.”

Aton shrugged, caught off guard. Kascho spoke again. “Take a moment and look at your situation as if it were new, right now. What is good? What needs to be emphasized? What is not so important, and can be left for others to worry about?”

Aton paused, thinking. He was rather skilled, but that would not assuage public concerns for the health of the crown in Grendhill. He could not grow a weapon out of thin air, nor could he do anything to ensure that whichever of his siblings who took the crown conveyed Aguneg’s gift to his nephews and nieces. He could show solidarity with his family. He could prepare to serve his country however it needed his unique skill set. He had no weapon to train with in isolation, and he truly saw no point in waiting for his turn for the cave.

“Perhaps I should return home. I am not being productive here, loafing about. Back home, at least I could continue my regular studies. It would be something. More importantly…it wouldn’t be here.” Aton’s eyes widened as he feared he may have just offended his host. He spoke quickly to repair the damage. “Nothing wrong with this place. But it’s where my siblings are. Not that I hate my siblings, of course. I’m just not like them. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, I mean. I mean I don’t ha—”

“That’s fine,” Kascho reassured him. “I understood what you meant. I am not offended, and I’ll try not to tattle on you to your siblings.” He smiled. “If you wish to return home because this place is not helping you, then I think that is a good idea. Can you wait until this evening when Uillia gets home, though? She would hate to miss saying good-bye.”

“Alright,” Aton said. “I’ll wait until then.”