"My, my, my. What a touching little show," a voice said mockingly.

Van and Ryan turned to see a long-necked old man with a sallow face standing behind them with his hands clasped behind his back. It was Senior Ruskel, and behind him were two girls and a boy dressed in plain clothes. They looked to be similar in age to Van and gazed upon the scene with disinterest. One of the girls raised a lazy hand and yawned.

"Almost interesting enough to keep me entertained for the entire FIFTEEN MINUTES I've been waiting here for your lazy ass to show up!" In anger, Ruskel ran forward and tried to kick Van's butt.

Van rolled his eyes, easily sidestepping.

Ruskel was frustrated – he did not get the satisfying revenge he imagined in his dreams!

He crossed his arms and hmphed.

"Well, if you're quite done with your little reconciliation with your little girlfriend, get your backside onto the cart!"

"Shoo!" The older man ushered the other youths onto the cart.

The cart was drawn by two stocky horses and was very primitive-looking. Bits of straw covered the inside of the wooden cart. It looked just large enough for them all to fit in.

Ryan clambered on after Van. Ruskel squinted his eyes at him.

"Since when do you get to come with us!?"

Van glanced at Ruskel, "Since my esteemed patron said he could," he bluffed.

Ruskel knew this was nothing other than a big fat lie – but, he had been given strict warnings that he was to ensure that Van was retained by Cedar Sect. Not allowing his friend on the cart did not seem like a good way to get Van to come with him back to the capital..

"Hmph. Well, get on then! We must leave within the next half-hour."

The youths settled themselves in.

As they did, a few burly looking men showed up in front of the cart with sacks on their shoulders.

Seeing them, or rather, the precious cargo they held, Senior Ruskel's grin grew so wide the corners of his lips nearly touched his earlobes. He slapped the men on their shoulders, filled with glee. His precious herbs had arrived! Hallelujah!

Turning to the muscular men, he instructed them.

"Just put them o-"

The Ruskel's face abruptly became black. He stared at the kids sitting in the cart.

He stared at his precious herbs.

He stared back at the kids sitting in the cart.

Van and the others were beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"You!"

The only other boy apart from Van and Ryan was a rather nondescript looking fellow. He paled as Senior Ruskel's scheming eyes lock onto him. Already, he began to shake his head.

"Off!" Senior Ruskel said imperiously, indicating with his thumb.

The poor boy shook his head more vigorously. He would be the shame of his family if he did this! He knocked his head onto the cart's wooden floor, pleading. Besides him, the two girls exchanged glances and chimed in, asking for him to remain with them. The three of them shared the same last name, after all.

Ruskel's face grew uglier. He owed the girls' father a big favour, but he was also unable to disobey Silver Mark One! The only thing he could do was sacrifice his herbs!

Ruskel showed an unwilling face.

He paced back and forth in front of the cart.

Pah pah pah pah!

His quick, erratic footsteps reflected his state of mind. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh.

"That's it!" He shouted.

Countless large bags of herbs were roughly dumped on top of the sitting youths. They were completely disregarded. The youths quickly disappeared, buried.

It wasn't all bad – the herb-filled sacks made for very comfortable cushions along their ride.

________________

That evening, they set up tents on the bank of a small river.

Inside their shared tent, Ryan pulled the bundle off his back and rummaged around. Finally, he withdrew two sets of clothing. One was a clean cream-colored tunic made from wool and the other was a set of linen undergarments.

"My mum made these for you. She didn't know your sizes, so she just made it the same as mine. And-" he withdrew a second bone-handle dagger, "this is from Dad."

Van accepted all gifts gratefully.

"Thank you."

There was an awkward silence.

"How is your mother?" Van inquired. Although it wasn't entirely his fault, the suspicion on him had indeed inadvertently caused her harm.

"She's fine. So is the little brother in her stomach," Ryan said happily.

They sat for a few moments longer before Ryan blowed out the wax candle. He was snoring within moments.

In contrast, Van was wide awake.

His body, ever since his practice of Thousand Saints Sacrifice, possessed a strong vitality that meant that he needed sleep less and less.

He peered into the darkness within the tent and within his mind.

[Jet?] He tried, probing cautiously.

Floating in the dark emptiness, the ring trembled.

Van sat up in excitement.

This was the most response he'd gotten in a week!

[Jet!?]

The black ring shuddered again. Then stilled.

He was unable to incite another reaction from the dormant ring for the rest of that night.

It was the same every night after that – the ring could only give the faintest response before falling silent again. Van worried but could do nothing about it. At least it seemed that Jet was alive.

The days passed quickly.

Flat landscape became rolling hills and then turned back to flat landscape. Rivers curved towards them, and then disappeared in the distance. The forest was constant - though sometimes close and sometimes very far.

Van often heard the faint, far away howls of a wolf pack. Blackheart and the rest kept pace with the two horses and the cart easily, although they were limited to travelling within the forests to evade others.

Finally, the one-month mark arrived.

Six weary travellers disembarked at Dragon City, Cloud River's grand capital.

It was named so due to its unique architecture – the city was surrounded by curved walls that seemed nearly as tall as the clouds and sinuously twisted through the landscape. Another notable sight was their man-made river, in which the mysterious image of a great dragon could sometimes be seen when the sun shone bright enough.

Large gates blocked the entry to the city, and the line to enter was immense. It seemed as if the world's population were crammed into this space.

"I've never seen so many people in my life," Ryan said, intimidated. The other three were similarly shocked, despite their significantly better family backgrounds.

In comparison, Van was more at ease, having been to the capital before when he was younger.

The sight of the gate filled Van with nostalgia. He remembered clearly the sensation of holding his mother's hand as they walked out of this gate, on their way to Mountain village.

Senior Ruskel was considerably more low key in the capital. He was, after all, only the Deputy Head Servant in charge of herb cultivation in the Cedar Sect. In the mundane world, this was a glorious existence, but in the capital, he was a dime a dozen. That was not to say that he did not have any influence – the Cedar Sect was still one of the foremost sects and thus demanded respect.

When their turn arrived, Senior Ruskel sidled up to the guards and began his over-familiar routine to butter them up. Chatting and laughing with them, he greased their palms and entered the gates smoothly.

When they passed through, Senior Ruskel frowned.

"Was it just me, or were they a bit harder to schmooze up to today?"

He thought of his ten coppers and felt his stomach hurt. It didn't usually take this much 'sincerity!'

At a street corner, they caught a coach, which carried them through the city.

The other youths gazed around them with open mouthed amazement.

The population of the capital city was evenly split between cultivators and non-cultivators. Even with this low concentration, Dragon City was considered an immortal city – the only one in Cloud River, in fact. Most mundane people would live their entire lives in Cloud River without knowing about its existence.

Due to the influence of its cultivators, many magical things could be seen dotting the streets. Paper cranes flew in the air above, dropping flyers every so often. Small toads squatted on shop doors and croaked out slogans. A man in the distance painted on a slip of cloth vigorously and shouted – the cloth burst into flame.

This time, even Van was watching in awe. He did not quite remember this – it seemed his parents had not passed through the central district of Dragon City, only the mundane outskirts. Which made sense, since they were ordinary mortals.

A paper flyer fluttered down onto their coach. Van paid it little attention.

In sharp contrast, Senior Ruskel made a flying leap for it. Opening and scanning the scrunched flyer in his hand, he shouted in shock.

"How is this possible!?"

The youths craned their necks over, curious. Senior Ruskel saw their gazes and hastily threw the flyer overboard. He kept mum.

Van looked at him suspiciously.

The older man avoided his gaze, opting to demand the driver to speed up instead.

Soon enough, they arrived in front of a grand structure.

An imposing plaque was erected in front of the main gates. The Cedar Sect, it said, in bold but naturally flowing script. The atmosphere it gave off was natural but forceful, like the relentless flow of a river. Physically, the sect encompassed an entire district within Dragon City.

As they disembarked the coach, a man in grey robe greeted them.

"George!" Senior Ruskel greeted loudly. The man in the grey robe did not react. Ruskel gave him a sold whack on the back and made a 'he-he' sound.

"Same old, same old, my friend. Some fresh meat to be tested into servanthood."

The youths felt black lines descend down their foreheads.

Um, senior, can you please not call us 'fresh meat?' You make it sound like we're about to get eaten!

"I will need to take them to the testing grounds."

George nodded slowly. He reached into his robe to hand over testing tokens to the youths.

An odd feeling descended over him.

He looked up and saw five puzzled youths staring back at him.

Ruskel was nowhere to be seen.

In the distance, a long-necked figure was frantically running as if his life were on the line. His robes flapped wildly, making him look comical in his escape.

George's usual deadened expression sunk even further.

Silently, he handed over the tokens to the five kids.

Neither George or the youths spoke. They made their way to the testing ground in a stunned silence.

What in the world..?

They looked at each other, uncomprehending.

Something floated down from the skies.

George made a sound for the first time since they met him – a small, angry choking noise like someone was strangling him.

In his trembling hands was a flyer.

The youths peered over his shoulder. Brilliant red script greeting them.

[BUXOM and SLENDER BEAUTIES on sale at the market today for HALF PRICE!]

[That's right, we're talking about your FAVOURITE freshly plucked - the sweet and elusive Mist Bloom herb! HALF-PRICE ENDS AT END OF BUSINESS DAY. XXX Don't miss out, luvvie!]

George quietly threw the flyer onto the ground.

He stomped on it with vengeance.

Then, expressionlessly, he continued forwards.