Mark One was rather bored. He floated above the villages on his cloud summon, twiddling his thumbs and waiting impatiently for the other Silver Marks to appear, as well as his Division Leader, Silver Sign.
Mark One felt the Division Leader arrive before he saw him.
The Division Leader had the appearance of a stern and refined middle-aged man. As soon as he arrived, an oppressive aura doused Mark One to his bones.
So, the operation was not successful, he thought to himself.
Silver Sign's aura was heavy. His characteristic silver hair was out of its usual careful style and were singed at the ends. He was not wearing the same robe he came in.
Mark One met him in the sky and performed a half-bow atop his cloud in greeting.
"It was a disaster," Silver Sign said quickly, cutting off Mark One before he could make a sound.
"We are returning to the Divine Sense Pagoda, now."
The older man slapped his steed and disappeared speedily into the clouds.
Mark One looked in askance at Mark Two, who had just arrived. She shook her head.
"Division Leader went down with Mark Four on the first day of arrival, but Four couldn't stand the savage Devouring Scarlet Magma and came up on the second day. Division Leader spent the whole three days three nights within the magma with nothing to show for it."
She paused for a breath.
"He said that there were traces of a Sapphire Dream Lotus, but now it had retreated too far down into the heart of the magma. Perhaps it had come up for pollination purposes – but as you know, it is notoriously hard for the Sapphire Dream Lotus to breed. To our best knowledge, there were no Sapphire Dream Lotuses in the continent - and suddenly one shows up in some backwater country, lured out by the pollen of another Sapphire Dream Lotus?"
"Division Leader said that this case might be less coincidental than we think... It might be linked to the Apparition that appeared five years ago."
Mark One inhaled sharply.
"How certain is he?"
Mark Two shook her head.
"There is no evidence at all. This whole thing could just be a miraculous coincidence. The Heavens work in strange ways, after all. Division Leader is just the cautious, deep-thinking sort, that's what I think."
Mark Two was clearly not too concerned. With a whistle, her eagle took off after Silver Sign. She quickly disappeared into the skies. Mark Three followed close behind.
Mark One was most similar in temperament to Silver Sign. Like his superior, he also preferred to think ahead of time about all outcomes or possibilities. An image of a thin, dark-haired boy flashed through his mind. But it was impossible. Mark One shook his head as if to dislodge his niggling instincts. Anyhow, precautions had been put in place. If something unusual happened, he would know.
Mark One nodded at Four before zooming into the distance and returning to their arrowhead formation.
Within an hour, they had left Cloud River country behind them.
____________________________________
It took Van and the wolves six hours to arrive at Clear Water.
When they arrived near the town, Van sent the wolves to lurk in the woods. Cloud River country was dominated by forests, meaning that the wolves would be able to follow Van to the capital at a distance.
Clear Water town was very orderly and much cleaner than the villages. It had stone pathways and proper brick houses – rather than ramshackle huts. In this region, Clear Water was the center of commerce. Traveling merchants from other parts stopped at Clear Water before going to the villages to peddle their wares. As he walked towards the Grinning Goat - the biggest tavern in town, that the Cedar Sect representative was staying at – he saw numerous merchants promoting their goods on the side of the road.
Entering the tavern, he saw a young man wiping the tables.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for the Cedar Sect representative."
The young man's eyes grew wary. He shook his head.
"Senior Ruskel isn't here. He's at the herb market."
He gave Van some detailed directions before resuming his duties.
Van made his way to the herb market, a large square with waterproof cloth stretched between tall trees for rain protection. It was filled with herb peddlers with their goods in an array of displays.
At a glance, he spotted many people selling Iron Grasses, which were a common but still hot commodity. A copper tael for twenty bundles! Van's teeth ached. He thought about how he'd collected five hundred bundles of the herb. That was twenty-five coppers taels! That was enough to feed himself and Finn for three months at least.
He did still have the spiritual Iron Grass he had found mixed in within the other ordinary Iron Grasses the wolves brought him. It could be something decent - maybe he'd sell it at the capital for some money.
As he walked through the stalls, Van spotted 'Senior Ruskel,' straight away by the eye-catching embroidered Cedar on the sleeve of his robe.
Ruskel was a long-necked man with a sallow complexion, wearing a plain brown-colored robe. Despite its plain appearance, the quality of the material was of a higher quality than most of these people had seen in their lives. The sallow-faced peered down at a merchant's neat display shelves while imperiously pointing his finger here and there and complaining about the quality of goods.
"Look at the atrocious garbage you are calling 'herbs'!" Senior Ruskel shouted, finger quivering. Spittle flew. There was a wily look in his eye.
"Ripping off innocent citizens and scamming them into buying inferior products, you should ashamed of yourself! Your ancestors are rolling in their graves, mortified to have a descendant such as you. Despicable. Utterly shameless!"
The merchant looked as if he were about to cry – he was being wronged! His stall was one of the more well-known and reputable in the town, and now this man was undoing his ancestor's hard work to set up this reputable brand!
"Are you sure you aren't mistaken, sir? My customers have never reported any problems," the merchant tried.
The sallow-faced man grew incensed.
Pak!
He hit the wooden table with his hand. The herbs upon it jostled.
"Are you calling this Senior Ruskel, of the illustrious Cedar sect, a liar!?"
[Yes!] thought the merchant.
"No!" said the merchant.
"Then if I say your herbs are crap, they're crap. Understand!?"
"This is a misunderstanding, sir!" The merchant was ready to spit blood. No matter how much he wanted to strongly refute this man, the merchant did not want to offend an entity that could exterminate him and his nine generations! That is, on the off chance that immortals existed. But it was better to be safe than sorry, this Senior's clothes did not look cheap!
"A misunderstanding?!" Senior Ruskel's voice went dangerously high.
"I have overseen herb cultivation in the Cedar Sect for decades, do you think the immortals enjoy subpar goods!?"
"No, no!"
The flustered merchant wrung his hands.
Suddenly, Ruskel changed his tune. With a scheming 'he-he' laugh, he leaned forward and gestured towards the merchant, as if to tell him a secret.
The merchant leaned forward.
Van watched with fascination as his face went red, then white, then blue, and then back to white.
The merchant was utterly humiliated. Shaking, he grabbed bundles of herbs and packed them away. He tossed them at the wily old man – the way one would toss bricks at a hated foe.
Senior Ruskel laughed cheekily.
In an exaggerated manner, he bellowed: "Oh my, dear sirs and madams, it seems I have made an atrocious mistake! My eyesight is terrible, and I mistook quality goods for trash!"
He thumped his chest in distress - an entire one-man-show was being acted out in the square.
"Oh, woe is me, woe is me!"
Senior Ruskel sneaked a wink at the merchant.
Van watched the merchant begin to sway on the spot. Someone steadied him before he could fall onto his wares.
Senior Ruskel, whistling, hoisted the bundles of herbs and walked away.
Van followed immediately, like a duckling following his mother.
In this comical formation, they walked in silence for about half a street. Finally, the long-necked elder turned and peered down at the young boy behind him.
"Go away!" He barked. His eyes were full of suspicion.
"I don't do charity!"
Mark One was rather bored. He floated above the villages on his cloud summon, twiddling his thumbs and waiting impatiently for the other Silver Marks to appear, as well as his Division Leader, Silver Sign.
Mark One felt the Division Leader arrive before he saw him.
The Division Leader had the appearance of a stern and refined middle-aged man. As soon as he arrived, an oppressive aura doused Mark One to his bones.
So, the operation was not successful, he thought to himself.
Silver Sign's aura was heavy. His characteristic silver hair was out of its usual careful style and were singed at the ends. He was not wearing the same robe he came in.
Mark One met him in the sky and performed a half-bow atop his cloud in greeting.
"It was a disaster," Silver Sign said quickly, cutting off Mark One before he could make a sound.
"We are returning to the Divine Sense Pagoda, now."
The older man slapped his steed and disappeared speedily into the clouds.
Mark One looked in askance at Mark Two, who had just arrived. She shook her head.
"Division Leader went down with Mark Four on the first day of arrival, but Four couldn't stand the savage Devouring Scarlet Magma and came up on the second day. Division Leader spent the whole three days three nights within the magma with nothing to show for it."
She paused for a breath.
"He said that there were traces of a Sapphire Dream Lotus, but now it had retreated too far down into the heart of the magma. Perhaps it had come up for pollination purposes – but as you know, it is notoriously hard for the Sapphire Dream Lotus to breed. To our best knowledge, there were no Sapphire Dream Lotuses in the continent - and suddenly one shows up in some backwater country, lured out by the pollen of another Sapphire Dream Lotus?"
"Division Leader said that this case might be less coincidental than we think... It might be linked to the Apparition that appeared five years ago."
Mark One inhaled sharply.
"How certain is he?"
Mark Two shook her head.
"There is no evidence at all. This whole thing could just be a miraculous coincidence. The Heavens work in strange ways, after all. Division Leader is just the cautious, deep-thinking sort, that's what I think."
Mark Two was clearly not too concerned. With a whistle, her eagle took off after Silver Sign. She quickly disappeared into the skies. Mark Three followed close behind.
Mark One was most similar in temperament to Silver Sign. Like his superior, he also preferred to think ahead of time about all outcomes or possibilities. An image of a thin, dark-haired boy flashed through his mind. But it was impossible. Mark One shook his head as if to dislodge his niggling instincts. Anyhow, precautions had been put in place. If something unusual happened, he would know.
Mark One nodded at Four before zooming into the distance and returning to their arrowhead formation.
Within an hour, they had left Cloud River country behind them.
____________________________________
It took Van and the wolves six hours to arrive at Clear Water.
When they arrived near the town, Van sent the wolves to lurk in the woods. Cloud River country was dominated by forests, meaning that the wolves would be able to follow Van to the capital at a distance.
Clear Water town was very orderly and much cleaner than the villages. It had stone pathways and proper brick houses – rather than ramshackle huts. In this region, Clear Water was the center of commerce. Traveling merchants from other parts stopped at Clear Water before going to the villages to peddle their wares. As he walked towards the Grinning Goat - the biggest tavern in town, that the Cedar Sect representative was staying at – he saw numerous merchants promoting their goods on the side of the road.
Entering the tavern, he saw a young man wiping the tables.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for the Cedar Sect representative."
The young man's eyes grew wary. He shook his head.
"Senior Ruskel isn't here. He's at the herb market."
He gave Van some detailed directions before resuming his duties.
Van made his way to the herb market, a large square with waterproof cloth stretched between tall trees for rain protection. It was filled with herb peddlers with their goods in an array of displays.
At a glance, he spotted many people selling Iron Grasses, which were a common but still hot commodity. A copper tael for twenty bundles! Van's teeth ached. He thought about how he'd collected five hundred bundles of the herb. That was twenty-five coppers taels! That was enough to feed himself and Finn for three months at least.
He did still have the spiritual Iron Grass he had found mixed in within the other ordinary Iron Grasses the wolves brought him. It could be something decent - maybe he'd sell it at the capital for some money.
As he walked through the stalls, Van spotted 'Senior Ruskel,' straight away by the eye-catching embroidered Cedar on the sleeve of his robe.
Ruskel was a long-necked man with a sallow complexion, wearing a plain brown-colored robe. Despite its plain appearance, the quality of the material was of a higher quality than most of these people had seen in their lives. The sallow-faced peered down at a merchant's neat display shelves while imperiously pointing his finger here and there and complaining about the quality of goods.
"Look at the atrocious garbage you are calling 'herbs'!" Senior Ruskel shouted, finger quivering. Spittle flew. There was a wily look in his eye.
"Ripping off innocent citizens and scamming them into buying inferior products, you should ashamed of yourself! Your ancestors are rolling in their graves, mortified to have a descendant such as you. Despicable. Utterly shameless!"
The merchant looked as if he were about to cry – he was being wronged! His stall was one of the more well-known and reputable in the town, and now this man was undoing his ancestor's hard work to set up this reputable brand!
"Are you sure you aren't mistaken, sir? My customers have never reported any problems," the merchant tried.
The sallow-faced man grew incensed.
Pak!
He hit the wooden table with his hand. The herbs upon it jostled.
"Are you calling this Senior Ruskel, of the illustrious Cedar sect, a liar!?"
[Yes!] thought the merchant.
"No!" said the merchant.
"Then if I say your herbs are crap, they're crap. Understand!?"
"This is a misunderstanding, sir!" The merchant was ready to spit blood. No matter how much he wanted to strongly refute this man, the merchant did not want to offend an entity that could exterminate him and his nine generations! That is, on the off chance that immortals existed. But it was better to be safe than sorry, this Senior's clothes did not look cheap!
"A misunderstanding?!" Senior Ruskel's voice went dangerously high.
"I have overseen herb cultivation in the Cedar Sect for decades, do you think the immortals enjoy subpar goods!?"
"No, no!"
The flustered merchant wrung his hands.
Suddenly, Ruskel changed his tune. With a scheming 'he-he' laugh, he leaned forward and gestured towards the merchant, as if to tell him a secret.
The merchant leaned forward.
Van watched with fascination as his face went red, then white, then blue, and then back to white.
The merchant was utterly humiliated. Shaking, he grabbed bundles of herbs and packed them away. He tossed them at the wily old man – the way one would toss bricks at a hated foe.
Senior Ruskel laughed cheekily.
In an exaggerated manner, he bellowed: "Oh my, dear sirs and madams, it seems I have made an atrocious mistake! My eyesight is terrible, and I mistook quality goods for trash!"
He thumped his chest in distress - an entire one-man-show was being acted out in the square.
"Oh, woe is me, woe is me!"
Senior Ruskel sneaked a wink at the merchant.
Van watched the merchant begin to sway on the spot. Someone steadied him before he could fall onto his wares.
Senior Ruskel, whistling, hoisted the bundles of herbs and walked away.
Van followed immediately, like a duckling following his mother.
In this comical formation, they walked in silence for about half a street. Finally, the long-necked elder turned and peered down at the young boy behind him.
"Go away!" He barked. His eyes were full of suspicion.
"I don't do charity!"
