He sat at the table alone. The woman answered every question he had, but in record time: "What role do the gods play in my life? Oh, who can tell. I like stars. I see them at night. That's about all they play. I guess navel-gazing is a form of worship, right?" When he asked, "How often do you worship?" she replied, with a giggle, "every night I guess." And her behavior once he asked his final mandatory question? 'What service do you provide to the gods?' she only made a lot of weird noise effects as she slowly stood up, saying, "Nothing! I think about the gods a lot but that's it. Listen, I actually have to go! Thanks so much for seeing me. See you back in the field? Bye!"

  The entire interaction left him speechless. He touched the marble to deactivate it. Is interviewing people like her truly going to help me understand the gods and prophecy? Not seeing how it would but happy at the interview ending, Zan picked himself from his seat. She never even brought me that drink she promised.

  Mildly befuddled as the interview left him, he hardly noticed the headset System giving him a notification alert: [Achievement Unlocked: First Interview]

  A chime in his ear brought his finger to the earpiece. "Screen Master? Is something wrong?" he asked.

  "Negatory! Everything is fine at the command center. I wanted to tell you I am proud of you for conducting your first interview. Such is an important first step on your path to understanding the spiritual universe."

  Not expecting praise from Screen Master Simulacrum on matters unrelated to the Martial Order, Zan replied, "I appreciate your praise. It was hard for me to do."

  "So is the first step of every journey. I should know. I have assisted the Shiv Order for tens-of-thousands of years, through many generations. Your struggles as both a youth and as a commander I have seen played out across hundreds of faces. Of the many young men and women who have grown from innocence to leaders, all of them attained their station by confronting their problems headlong while striving to grow as people. You are not the first grandmaster-in-title only to join the Order. And neither are you the first of such grandmasters to join the Blank Denomination."

  Pleasant surprise jolted through him. "Wow. I thought I would be unique. Honest. I thought my situation would make me unique."

  "Incorrect. In fact, of the grandmasters-in-titles only who went on to join the Blank Denomination, several got their start only after their home was attacked. As a Martial Order, our focus invariably drifts to violence."

  He could only cock his head at learning that. "I can't tell yet if that takes a load off my shoulders or puts more weight on. I guess I will find out," Zan said, rising from his seat, and leaving the cold hut communal space.

  Seeing how the sun set, Zan knew he had to find the others. Using the echo beetles, he spoke, "Whiskey. Jiehong. Let's meet outside town. At the bunker."

  Moments later, he received curt confirmations.

  He waited peacefully under the shade of the bunker. Coated in the guck of centuries, the bunker looked hardly different from an inexplicably placed pillared plateau. Had it not been for the flashing light, that is. Revealed by his hard dislodgement, the light continued its non-stop flashing. Thinking to himself, he knew he wanted to see the true form of the bunker. Not the rock. Not the sediment. The bunker.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  In-training or not, I would like to see what I have command over, Zan intoned, giddy over the thought of controlling property.

  "Hail!" Whiskey shouted, alerting Zan to her and Jiehong's presence.

  "Hey. How was your day, Whiskey? Sore?" he asked.

  "Easygoing, mostly. When you shoot an arrow, but you hit the creature but miss your shot? Chasing it down, claiming your kill. Feeding people. That is what it's about. I had a great time with my fellow hunters. Did you not have a good time doing manual labor?" Whiskey asked him.

  "It was less the labor and more what happened after. A lady asked for an interview," he replied.

  "Wonderful, Zan, I am so happy for you! Were you nervous? I've heard these religious initiations can be intense. Or so said my more cantankerous sister-rebels."

  "The interview was weird. It was like this: as a custom, I am supposed to ask someone if they want to tell me anything before the Interview officially begins. She goes on and on about her personal drama. Then, when I finally get a chance the ask the real questions, she breezes through them and gives me empty answers. What the heck?!" he said.

  "People are like that," Whiskey said, shrugging, as if to say the way people 'are' is commonly understood facts.

  "I don't understand how interviews like that are supposed to help me understand the gods. Is there a god of rudeness? Of blabbering?"

  Jiehong took up his question and answered, "Yes. There are, mate. Although... maybe not? Okay. I will say this, if there isn't a god of blabbering, there is most certainly an eldritch entity of rudeness. Statistically speaking."

  Offering a sharp and exasperated giggle, Whiskey said, "What does that mean? 'Statistically speaking?' Are eldritch beings numbers?"

  "No," Jiehong said. "Eldritch being are primal. They represent emotion and psychologies. Or so I've heard. Rudeness would be a psychology, right? It would be a head-thing."

  Jiehong and Whiskey argued through the night, Jiehong's own time to tell of his day forgotten in the heat of debate.

  They retired to their makeshift camp that night. Although he wanted to stay in the village, Jiehong cautioned against it, saying they should keep privacy while still making a good impression on the folk. Zan thought it better to stay in the village. He did not belay his consul, however.

  "Either way, we will get what we need out of it," he said, ending the evening.

  Bright and early in the morning, the trio departed their camp and met Molly-Holly near the same field they ended at the previous day.

  "Back again. Serious buyers. I wouldn't have expected that from a pack of traveling kids," Molly-Holly said.

  Stifling only a couple of groans, he knew better than to lash out... tempting as it was.

  "Where do you want us?" Zan asked.

  "Also, this will be our final days of labor, correct?" Jiehong interjected.

  "It will be your final day, yes. I am sure the community will want to meet all of you before the sale is completed. Don't expect those fancy papers of yours signed today, though!" Molly-Holly spoke.

  "Fine, fine. We can sit through a village meeting. And fine. Tomorrow, then for the papers?" Jiehong said.

  Not wanting to say anything more than what can be communicated through the power of a grunt, Molly-Holly glared at Jiehong.

  "Today, you will be resuming your village service," Molly-Holly continued, ignoring Jiehong's question. Hunting and heavy field work. Oh, and Zan, my daughter liked the interview you gave her yesterday. A few others in the village want their Interviews conducted as well. Divvy up everything as you do."

  Having left them before he could get in a point edgewise, he felt a shadow cast itself over him. "Here's hoping the people I interview today aren't like that woman from yesterday -- wait, she said... that woman, Molly-Holly was her mother?!"