AN: It seems I've entered a parallel universe where Sundays are now Wednesdays. Sure I could just wait to publish this until Wednesday... but then you guys would have to wait a few days for content. It's a tough decision. Luckily I have Spring Break to think it over. Thank Notch.

The answer to last week's riddle - I'm pretty sure 90% of you got this - was that the lion room was the safest because lions that haven't eaten in years would be dead. Congrats to (and I'm not making this username up) OhNoTheUsernameIWantedIsGone for guessing the answer correctly first. Enjoy your cookie and your acknowledgement.

(::)

Puzzle: A mansion is on fire. There are three rooms: A room full of money, a room full of expensive paintings, and a room full of trinitrotoluene. Which room do the police put out first?

I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd enable swimming through 1x1 holes again. That was cool.

Chapter 99

War and Peace

[Kalmarin]

"Your Grace. Some citizens have discovered a hideout for straggling Griefers near the Residential District. We estimate a force of twenty soldiers should be enough to route them."

"You'll have forty. I want them crushed." Jillian responded. Much to the citizen's surprised delight. "The sooner we take out these pockets of resistance, the better. Perry! Care to do the honors?"

"With pleasure." Perry smiled grimly before following the citizen, rounding up Paragons as he went.

Another Nitebane citizen soon replaced the first. "Jillian, Your Grace. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy, busy schedule to—"

"Save the honorifics, please. The sooner you tell me what's wrong, the sooner I can get through my busy, busy schedule." Jillian replied without looking up from the report another Paragon handed her. She jotted something down and handed it back, but no sooner had she done that did another book magically wind up in her hands. She wasn't bothered, however, merely skimming through the contents and humming. "So what is wrong?"

"Er... yes… well, with all the soldiers being trained, some citizens have been wondering about Captains?" Jillian paused while jotting something down. "Several outstanding candidates wish for the chance to demonstrate their skills to you, so that you may appoint them for the job… myself included."

Jillian took a look at the female citizen before her before returning to her report. "I'm only going to consider the best on offer. Nitebane needs strong fighters. Send whichever candidates you wish. Just know that they will adhere to the strict regimen my own soldiers follow. If they cannot keep up, they won't have a chance at Captain."

"Very well, Your Grace. We won't disappoint." The female citizen bowed before leaving the throne room.

…Followed by another citizen.

I let out a tired sigh. I was getting exhausted just watching Jillian deal with all the requests and news and problems presented to her. And all I was doing was standing at her side, weapon at my belt, and Skeleton mask over my face. After all, I needed to keep my Hacker lines obscured while Nitebane citizens came as they pleased.

Z7 was present as well, hidden in the shadows of the rafters above. And I only knew that because I had seen her climb up earlier. She was completely unknown to the citizens that came and went. If any assassin managed to pass me (an action difficult enough on its own), Z7 would end them swiftly.

But who knew being a ruler to a Kingdom trying to bounce back from the brink of extinction was so much work? Part of me wondered if this was the real reason Carys didn't want the job. The frustrated Angel of Death would lose it on the tenth citizen's request.

Jillian was on her fortieth. Today.

Truly she was made for this job.

"My dearest Grace." The new citizen bowed low, their head tickling the carpeted floor. Ah. One of Jillian's many worshippers. "It is with great honor that I inform you that the EXP Factories have stockpiled a ten-thousand boon of Bottles o' Enchanting."

Jillian smiled, the news pleasing her despite the messenger's reverent tone. "Good. I take it you're the appointed head of the factories?" He nodded fervently. "Then distribute a quarter of that to the workers as pay. I will send some soldiers over to deliver another quarter of it to ourselves for weapon enchanting and the like.

"Another quarter should be fine to sell—we're already receiving orders from several Kingdoms for trade deals. Only sell to Zeppil for now. The other Kingdoms will just have to wait their turns or else provide some favorable deal or token to win our trust. As for the remaining quarter of potions, keep it in reserve at the factories. It never hurts to have an emergency supply of EXP. Continue bottling EXP and let the workers know they will be paid as soon as the Zeppil deal works out. Of that, I promise."

"Yes, my dearest Grace, yes. Oh, your wisdom in trade and economics is more extraordinary than I could have dreamed—"

"Yes, thank you. Now please stop drooling onto the carpet. I have about fifty more citizens that need to stand there." Jillian let a bit of her annoyance slip, but the worshipping citizen paid it no mind, backing out of the throne room with his head bowed deeply. Once he was gone, Jillian let out a tired sigh. "The worshippers are the toughest to deal with…" She whispered to me.

"Get used to it. They're eternally grateful to you for taking care of those Hackers." Unsaid went the fact that it was Carys who actually deserved the praise. Also unsaid went the fact that I was one of those Hackers. "Plus, once your leadership nets this Kingdom tons of wealth and status, the people here will deify you. The Church of Jillian, they'll call it. Dedicated to the Goddess of prosperity, herself."

"Don't remind me." Jillian groaned with a hand over her face. "I hate people prostrating themselves before me. It's embarrassing and awkward. Almost makes me want to get these people to hate me. At least then they won't feel the need to kiss the ground I walk on." She received another report from a Paragon and perused it quickly, knowing another citizen was approaching. "How is Attila doing?"

"Interesting segue, from people that worship you to someone that tried to kill you."

"She had her reasons." Jillian defended. "They were poor and irrational reasons, but they were fueled by her emotions, so I don't blame her. How is she doing in Team Alpha?"

"She's rising through the ranks." I replied, thinking on the girl's remarkable progress. "She took on the Paragon training with enthusiasm and has already trounced fellow members with quadruple the experience. Part of it is her fast, zippy, and explosively unpredictable combat style. Carys was right in recruiting her… as always."

"Well, Carys has an eye for that sort of thing." Jillian replied, while somehow engaging in a conversation with another Nitebane citizen requesting an allowance to make repairs to one of the larger skyscrapers on the south side. "I heard she's obsessed with a Crafter calling himself the Billionth. That true?"

"I wouldn't say obsessed."

"So the rumor about her having a wall dedicated to figuring out the Billionth's identity and fighting style is just that? A rumor?"

"…That's the first I've heard of it." Seriously? A wall? She was definitely taking the news that she wasn't the first to kill a Hacker to heart. I bet the second she met the guy, she would fight him just to prove herself stronger.

"Well, I suppose having another Hacker slayer on our side couldn't hurt. No offense." She added in a whisper so that the Nitebane citizen couldn't hear her.

"None taken. I know what they've done." I replied. I waited for the citizen to walk away before continuing. "I've worn this mask while walking through the city. I've heard all the terrifying tales of Hackers passing through the Nitebane as they pleased. I've heard all the hate and vitriol for the dark smoke and black lines. I'm no stranger to it." I sighed wearily. "Even in my own unit, there are some who shoot me fearful or furious looks. Attila among them."

"She still doesn't trust you?" Jillian questioned. "But I thought Carys explained that you're on our side."

"Hackers hurt her deeply, Jillian." I explained, which caused her expression to soften. "She doesn't know the circumstances which made me a Paragon and she wouldn't want to hear them from me anyway. A few choice words from Carys aren't going to change her mind. She needs time to trust me—or at least to trust I won't turn around and stab everyone in the back."

That was Z7's area of expertise.

"I just wish she wasn't so good at combat." I scratched my arm in annoyance. "She could easily be my right-hand if not for her distrust of me. Why would Carys put her in Team Alpha knowing this? I don't know what to do with her."

Jillian opened her mouth to make a suggestion, only to be cut off by a frantic Paragon sprinting in from the side.

"Jillian! Jillian!" The Paragon shouted, pushing the waiting citizen aside to stand before her. "The maps… the maps have picked up… have picked up…"

"Spit it out already." Jillian urged.

"It…" The Paragon lowered his voice. "A Hacker."

My eyes widened after catching those words, and Jillian's did the same before narrowing in determination. She lifted herself off the throne, tilting her head to address the citizen.

"Something urgent has come to my attention. I am sorry, but I will have to reschedule this meeting." The citizen barely had time to argue before he was ushered out of the throne room by a pair of Paragons. "Lead the way." She spoke to the frantic Paragon, who nodded and led Jillian to the Map Room. I followed along and Z7 jumped down to do the same.

We were Jillian's protectors. The fate of Nitebane depended on her.

Which meant we had to do everything in our power to keep threats away from her. And that included this latest Hacker.

The Map Room was originally a war room, consisting of a long table with several chairs where previous Kings and Captains would discuss patrols, issues, and pressing envoy missions. However, Jillian had opted to convert it to one of her patented Map Rooms.

It was a brilliant tactical invention of her own design, and it allowed her information gathering skills to flourish. That's what the Team Delta she led was known for: long-range fighting and intel gathering.

The Map Room consisted of a large, expanded wall displaying a large map of Minecraftia. An additional level of scaffolding allowed the watching Paragons to keep an eye on everything it showed. The room above had to be broken down to do this, but it was worth it for Jillian.

The map plastered across the wall was made up of dozens of items frames and maps, each of which had a copy held by each of the ten vigilant Paragons. Meanwhile, on the map, there were a couple of rings of white blips. Nitebane was at the center of these circles, and they spread out further and further with distance, forming layers of watchful protection.

In simpler terms, the Map Room was like radar. Paragons were sent to outposts at certain points far away from Nitebane. They each had a map of their own, and when they detected the first sign of trouble, they would respond in a specific way that would get back to the Map Room and tell us all what we needed to know.

Now was such a time.

"Where is the Hacker coming from?" Jillian asked the second she walked in, her eyes already scanning the white blips spread out along the map. "I need a location, people."

"Just southwest of Jolin." One of the Paragons pointed, prompting Jillian and me to follow.

Sure enough, there was a white blip. It was rotating counter-clockwise in place, the act fully intentional on the Paragon's part. A clockwise rotating blip meant the threat was cultists.

Counter-clockwise meant Hackers.

"Well, it's not like we didn't expect this day to come." Jillian commented, rubbing her chin as she examined the map. "Judging by their given trajectory, I suppose we have to assume they're coming here. Has the Paragon relayed further information through Morse code?"

"Yes, ma'am. The information was recorded just moments ago. It's on the table, there."

That was another thing. Jillian had drilled into every Paragon the usefulness of understanding Morse code, and, with Carys' support, had taught the method of communication so that everyone could at least read and relay simple messages. It had its uses, even if it was a pain to learn.

This was one of those uses. By dropping and picking up a map, a Paragon could make their blip blink, and, with a bit of skill, communicate straight to the Map Room via Morse code. Even now, I watched as the white blip stopped rotating in order to blink in and out in sporadic rhythm.

I caught a few words. Hacker. One. Horseback. Griefers.

Jillian hummed to herself as she read the report. She didn't really need to since she was proficient enough with Morse code to actually read it as the Paragon relayed it, but the book was probably faster.

"…It's only one Hacker and he's approaching from the west. He has short, purple hair and is dressed in a robe the shade of yellow so bright it blinds you. Anyone you know, Kal?"

"Yeah, I know him. PoulsenPowderkeg. As destructive and impulsive as his name implies. He's only a Level 1, but he has a troublesome Hack called Creative Control. It allows him to select two areas to make a region, and then everything above and below that region is reduced to air. Bedrock included." My words made the listening Paragons quiver in fear. "Theoretically speaking, he could select a region that encompassed all of Minecraftia… and destroy it all to make everyone fall below bedrock."

It was a scary thought, and one of the reasons the other clan members forbid Poulsen from using it in large bursts. What he destroyed, he couldn't put back (thankfully there was another Hacker with an ability opposite his who could). And having such an ability meant he could make an area around a Kingdom and then make all of its inhabitants fall into nothingness. An idea he joked about as if it was comical, many years ago when I had foolishly thought the same.

And he was on his way to Nitebane.

"He's accompanied by less than a hundred Griefers." Jillian continued, not as shaken with my description as the others. Or maybe she just realized now wasn't the time to let fear take over. "They're all outfitted with Horses. That's a bit odd; they don't usually bother raising steeds. They must have been stolen." She drummed across the wooden table with her fingers. "At the rate they're travelling… they'll probably get here within a week."

"Should we prepare our defenses, ma'am?" One of the Paragons asked.

"…No." Jillian decided with a frown. "With a Hack like his, Poulsen could destroy this Kingdom. We don't prepare a defense because we won't allow this Hacker to disrupt what progress we've made here." She walked up to the map and traced her finger from the west towards Nitebane before poking a spot midway between them. "Here. At the edge of the stone juts. We'll send a small, but experienced force of soldiers to intercept them here and keep them from getting close to Nitebane. It'll take three days, but with the forces they're carrying and how they're obviously coming here, there's little chance of missing them."

"Will we be sending the Angel of Death out there?"

Jillian had a contemplative look on her face before she slowly turned towards me. I got the message immediately. If Carys led our forces against the Hacker, there was a chance her identity as the Angel of Death—and as Nitebane's true savior—would be revealed. She had to stay in the shadows. And really, it would be an insult to the Paragons to have their leader have to fight all their battles. Which meant someone else had to deal with this. Someone like…

"I'll lead the force." I affirmed with a nod. "I know his Hack better than anyone. He's one of the few without death-prevention of some sort, so I have a good chance of killing him. I'll take a few of Team Alpha and—mind if I take a few of Delta? I could use the long-range support."

"You'll have it." Jillian agreed, already waving a hand to a Paragon to organize this for me. "And… might I make a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"Bring Attila with you."

"I… will take that suggestion into account." I replied evasively, but Jillian wasn't having any of it.

"You want her to see you as different from the other Hackers, yet you don't know how. This situation couldn't have been gift-wrapped better for you." She waved her arm. "You intercept Poulsen, take him out, and then she'll know the difference between the Hackers with us and the Hackers against us. Besides," she quirked a smile, "Carys won't fault you for being the third to kill a Hacker."

"Just like that, huh?" I frowned before rubbing the back of my head. "Fine. I'll take her. But only because I'm willing to try anything. Z7, protect Jillian while I'm gone."

"R droo wl nb qly." The Jibberwoman replied softly before padding out of the room, quiet as the grave.

"I'll take that as a yes." My expression suddenly turned serious as I thought further of what might happen should Poulsen get past me and reach Nitebane. Or if he escaped and warned the rest of the Clan about me.

"I won't let Poulsen reach Nitebane." I swore to Jillian. "I promise to stop him. No matter what."

[Bailey]

"Three times in less than two days? Someone's persistent."

Those were the words that crossed my lips as, once again, I was facing a large group of Griefers, armed with those detestable swords and makeshift weapons. This group was bigger than any of the previous ones, but considering their level of skill, I estimated I could repel them nonviolently.

Or maybe non-fatally would be the better term. Their wrists, shins, and skin would sting like the dickens, but they would all live. The Art of Peace dictated such.

Still, I had hoped they would actually learn to leave me alone by now. One could only run into a brick wall so many times before learning to go around it. Their boss was the only one who maybe had a chance against me, and I knew for a fact he wouldn't show up. It was why he kept sending his goons in his place. He didn't want to face me anymore than I wanted to… face… him…

My thoughts trailed off as a Crafter on horseback rode in, parting the Griefers as he neared me. My eyes widened and I felt my breath catch before the dark-haired young man dismounted his horse and gazed at me with a neutral expression.

"…Casimir." I whispered.

"…Master Bailey." He greeted in turn before stepping forward.

The watching Griefers looked perplexed by the level of familiarity we shared. It looked like they were unaware of their boss' past.

"It's been a while." Casimir spoke. He brushed the dark hair out of his eyes and peered over my head. "I see you're still anchored to this sorry excuse for a hovel."

My eyes narrowed and I quickly recovered from my momentary shock at seeing him.

"Sorry excuse for a hovel? It's actually quite the popular spot? Everyone seems to want it for themselves." I waved an arm to the watching Griefers who were already starting to surround us in a circle. "I've been getting non-stop offers for the place. But you must already know that. You ordered them to come here in the first place."

"Master—"

"I'm no longer your master, Casimir." I cut him off. "Nor am I your mentor, father-figure, or anything begetting familiarity. You abandoned all that the day you left."

The dark-haired youth grit his teeth. "I had no choice. You thought I would be satisfied living on a farm in the middle of nowhere? With nothing but dust and tumbleweeds for friends? What kind of life is that?"

"A peaceful one."

"That may be fine for you… but I wanted more." He replied before closing his eyes. "I always respected you for your skills in aikido—you could do things with a simple stick that most Crafters couldn't manage with a sword. Seeing that skill shine forth drew me to you. I saw it as an opportunity to change the way things were in Akasha. We were forced to the outskirts because of how bad things were. We could have used aikido to turn the tables." His eyes suddenly snapped open. "But all you wanted to do was seclude yourself and abandon the Kingdom to its fate! You're a coward!"

"The Art of Peace was never meant to be used to fight wars." I replied evenly. "I told you this, over and over while I trained you. But you never took that lesson to heart. You never saw the Art of Peace as anything more than a weapon to get what you wanted. You let your self-centered desires possess you."

"Self-centered? Self-centered!?" Casimir shouted with growing volume. "You stupid old man! I wanted to end the persecution in Akasha! I wanted to fight back against the oppressive leaders! I followed aikido to a tee! 'The Art of Peace is medicine for a sick world.' Isn't that what you always said? Isn't that what was always written in that damn book?"

"Your intentions may have been noble," I answered carefully, "but, in your quest to follow your ambitions, your goals became tainted, as they always do. You strayed from the Art of Peace. You no longer cared whether people were hurt or killed by your actions."

He grit his teeth in frustration. "I needed help to overthrow Akasha. The Griefers needed a competent leader to guide them. So what if I used aikido to fight my way to the top? It wasn't like I had you backing me up. I had to do it all on my own."

"And you succeeded." I complimented dryly. "You helped organize their raids against the surrounding villages and farms. How many Crafters died in those attacks?"

"They were warned to leave beforehand."

"And if they didn't feel like giving up their entire livelihood to a bunch of wasteful scoundrels?" Casimir had no answer. "I see. So, I take it you raided all the farms and villages to attract Griefers and keep them all fed and happy. Little did you realize that Griefers wouldn't bother growing or raising their own food, so you had to raid more and more farms and villages until nothing was left. What was your next step? Or had you not thought that far ahead yet?"

Casimir frowned before folding his arms. "Once our forces are large enough and our food supplies sufficient… the whole region ours to own as uncontested ground… we were going to appeal to the Hack Clan to overthrow Akasha."

My eyes narrowed. "You stupid fool." He flinched at my cold words. "The Hack Clan won't honor your request. Not unless they have their own business or whims that align. They'll kill you first."

"I'll make it work." He spoke determinedly. "I've come too far to let it all fall for lack of trying. I'm not like you, content with lying low in your hovel. I want to actually do something to make things better." He glanced aside. "I was hoping you would have seen things my way."

"Is that why you kept sending your goons to kick me out of here?" His face drained of color, and he refused to look at me. Seems I was right on the money. "I always wondered why you didn't bother showing up, being stronger than the average Griefer. Your best bet in kicking me out was coming in person. In fact, it was almost like… you were afraid to face me yourself."

"I was afraid about what I might do. None of it was from you." He replied back, and when he looked up, there was a trace of pain in his eyes. "This was the last thing I wanted to do, Master. You taught me everything about aikido. You made me what I am."

Exactly. And it was because of that mistake that I never wanted to train anyone ever again. That Noman kid was just like Casimir. He only showed an interest in aikido when it was a way to beat people up. Neither of them had any respect for the philosophy. I hated him for it. I hated myself for making such a mistake… for being the cause of all those farmers and villagers losing their land to Griefers; because I was the one to train the leader that organized it all. And I called myself a disciple of peace…

"Hey, boss! Hurry up and kill him already!" One of the watching Griefers shouted. "We're famished out here and those cows are looking juicier by the minute!"

"Yeah! Less conversation, more evisceration!"

"I'll cut to the chase, since the others are getting restless and hungry." Casimir gestured to the surrounding Griefers. "Yours is the last land with any crops or livestock. This is your last chance. Leave this hovel and your life will be spared. You should be all too eager to accept it. It's the choice that ensures everybody lives. All life is precious, right?"

"Don't throw my teachings back in my face when it's clear you don't care for them." I returned with a scowl. He frowned, scratching his dark hair in frustration.

"This argument… it's the same one we had all those years ago… nothing has changed."

"Indeed." I replied. "It upsets me just as much it does you."

Casimir looked to me before reaching into his backpack and pulling out, not a stick, but a sword. Had he no shame? The only consolation was that it was wooden, and thus would damage the least. But still, it had an edge.

"Then, you know what will happen next?" He asked grimly.

"I do." I replied, taking out my stick and getting into my familiar stance. "Student vs Master. It's just like our daily spars. As I recall, the score stands at 115 wins, 29 losses, in my favor."

"That's 113 wins, 31 losses, you old coot."

"Well, with old age, memory is the second thing to go."

"What's the first thing?"

I smiled. "I can't remember."

The sun hung overhead and a dry wind assaulted our skin as we squared off in similar stances. I opted to grip my stick with both hands, angling it downwards. Casimir held his sword sideways, his eyes scanning me for any sign of weakness. The Griefers kept us penned in, waiting in anticipation for the fight that would decide the fate of my farmhouse.

I wasn't going to give it up without a fight. A completely peaceful fight.

Casimir was the first to attack. He rushed in, raising his sword with both hands as he prepared to strike down. I lifted my stick to intercept, batting the slash aside with a resounding crack before bringing the other end back up to smack him in the face.

He recovered as expected, raising his sword to block the strike and then holding his sword defensively before him to block a lunged attack aimed for his hip. His eyes flashed as he saw his moment and he aimed a quick strike to my head after I overextended. I backpedaled immediately and widened my stance as I pushed up and caught the strike on the middle of my stick.

Then he was the one backpedaling as I twisted my hips and swung with the opposite end. It barely whiffed him, but Casimir threw the strike off further by pushing it with his sword, forcing my weapon to the ground and leaving my right shoulder open.

My eyes widened and I saw him smirk as his blade came rushing towards my neck. His haughty attitude was replaced with irritation as the end of my stick was suddenly sent jabbing for his incoming face. We could have traded blows there, hit-for-hit, but instead his sword met my stick, diverting it just enough for it to whizz past his head.

I then knocked his sword to the side before aiming high with the other end of my weapon, but he was agile enough to bring his sword back up and block it with another resounding crack of wood meeting wood.

After that, we broke off and distanced ourselves from each other once more. The watching Griefers were breathless watching us.

"I see you're still as persistent as ever." Casimir complimented between breaths. I was catching my breath much the same way. "As you can see, I've expanded your aikido teachings to encompass the sword. Not only can it divert and block as well as any meager stick, but it also has the power to end threats. Permanently." He waved his sword left and right. "It's like aikido with an edge. Impressed?"

"More like appalled." I wiped the proud smile off his face. "You've tainted the art with a weapon capable of inflicting harm upon your enemy. Seeing the moves I taught you being channeled through edged weaponry… it pains me inside."

"Well it's about to pain you outside too!" He jumped right back in, more ferociously than before.

His attacks were aimed low, sweeping at my legs. I raised one to dodge, stepping back as I did, but was forced to abandon a counter attack in lieu of remaining upright. Further back I was pushed, his sword constantly trying to unbalance me.

When I was about to hit the wall of Griefers and Casimir launched another sweeping attack, I had had enough. I pushed forward instead, ramming my stick into the dry earth and using it to vault into his gut. He hastily threw up his free hand in an effort to stave off damage, and only partially succeeded as he was forced back. I landed back on two feet and quickly dodged as a projectile was launched at me from somewhere.

"Stay out of this!" Casimir snarled at the Griefer who had taken the shot. A few of the Griefers growled in protest while he shook his hand to relieve the numbness.

"Why should we?" A female Griefer argued. "If we all gang up, even he won't be able to stop us. Who cares about all this honorable crap?" Many Griefers shouted in agreement.

"No! This is my fight! And you will obey me." Casimir argued back, causing the female Griefer to bare her teeth. "That is unless you think you can feed all these Griefers with your leadership?" She suddenly paled. "Sure, Bailey's farm will feed us for a few weeks, but what then? How will you provide for your fellows? Or have you forgotten what life was like before I came along?"

At his words, I watched in fascination as all the Griefers went as timid as obedient dogs. They averted their eyes, as if remembering something they'd rather forget, and quieted their protests.

"…I haven't forgotten." The female Griefer grudgingly admitted. "I didn't mean to challenge you, boss."

"That's better." Casimir noted contemptuously. "You stick with me and I'll keep you fed. You don't agree with how I do things then you can run off and see how far you get. I'm only here now because none of you could fight this old man, so I'd appreciate if you let me do what you whined you were unable to do."

The Griefers kept their heads low as they obeyed him. It seems he had won their compliance with food instead of power. A Hacker would have done the opposite.

"You've tamed them quite well." I complimented. "If you put your mind to it, I'm sure you could teach them how to farm. It's as simple as crafting a hoe, using it on dirt, placing a source of water nearby, planting the proper seeds—"

"Slow down, slow down! Too many steps!"

"What's the recipe for a hoe?"

"I tried to make bread, but I couldn't find any bread seeds!"

"…Nevermind." I shook my head at the Griefers' confused exclamations.

"I've tried teaching them, but the lessons never stuck." Casimir commented while rummaging in his backpack. He pulled something out, but then bent himself in a way so as to hide it. "This is the only way I can feed them."

I raised my stick as he suddenly surged forward. His wooden sword came at me from the left and I quickly raised my stick to divert it aside.

I was unprepared for the second sword that was pulled out from behind his back and towards my right. I only had time to widen my eyes before the blade struck me across the face.

My stance faltered and I hastily brought my stick back up in a haphazard defense. It was pitiful before his double sword attack that snuck into my sides. I felt it scrape against my skin, shaving off Hearts of Health, before he ducked low and swept me off my feet using his swords as hooks. My face crashed into dirt and it took a few moments to prop myself back up to glare at the student.

He allowed me to recover, merely circling my downed form while flourishing his two wooden swords. He was somehow wielding them both at once?

"How…?"

"One of the newest perks of the Bounty Day: Dual-wielding." Casimir commented, twirling the blades before him. "You may be content with letting things settle without doing much, but not me. I evolve. And wasn't there a quote like that in that book? 'Life is growth. If we stop growing, technically and spiritually, we are as good as dead.' Sound familiar?" He stopped circling me. "I grew up. I evolved. Just like I've evolved the aikido fighting style. After all, two swords are better than one—and a hell of a lot better than some flimsy stick."

"Many of your techniques were learned through 'some flimsy stick'." I said, causing him to frown. "Or have you forgotten your roots?"

"Roots and basics are just a springboard." He waved his sword aside. "The antiquated aikido style needs to develop with the Bounty Days, otherwise it'll never match up to other Crafters. I'm just taking advantage of the new techniques and using them to improve my style."

"And in doing so, you've lost sight of the Art of Peace."

"Shut up!" He screamed before jumping back in to slash at my arms. I brought up my stick to block both strikes, but found myself hard-pressed by his strength. "Art of Peace, this. Art of Peace, that. How do you expect to save anyone's life sitting around a farmhouse until the sun burns out!? Your philosophy is one of indifference! For do-nothing old men!"

His words were hurting me more than his attacks. They shouldn't have been after I claimed he meant nothing to me, but…

But…

I still kept that picture of him.

Even after he ran off and called me a stupid old man, I kept that picture of him hanging up in my kitchen. A constant reminder of my mistake in teaching him. He meant nothing, yet I kept the picture as if he meant something. Why did I do that?

A knee caught my gut and forced me to my knees, followed by a hilt bashed across my face. And then, I felt the flat of his sword strike my wrist, knocking my stick loose. I watched as it spun across the ground and out of reach.

I kept the picture because deep down… I think I never really shunned him. After spending so much time training and talking and laughing… I treated him like a son.

And that picture was a slim hope—the impossible chance that he would return one day and beg forgiveness for everything he'd done. And I would embrace him and everything would go back to the way it was.

Having a selfish desire like that… I guess I wasn't as bound to the Art of Peace either.

"You're beaten now." He noted with triumph. "I've proved that my aikido surpasses yours. I've grown out of your shadow and into myself. And I did it because I had ambition driving me; something your Art of Peace rebukes. Well look who's victorious now! Look who's lying, beaten at my feet!"

"Excuse me!"

Casimir paused in his diatribe to glance to the side where a timid voice was emanating. I followed his gaze and watched questioningly as a diamond-clad Crafter jostled his way through the Griefers.

"Excuse me… sorry… please move a bit, thanks…" He kept sidling his way through the crowd who, bizarrely enough, let him through with minimal resistance. Maybe they were too shocked at the polite tone to think of attacking. "Sorry… old man to rescue… excuse me… sorry Miss…"

Finally, that Noman guy stumbled out from the wall of Griefers, his leg catching at the last second. He waved his arms to recover and then stepped forward when it looked like the Griefers were about to interfere.

"Who the hell are you?" Casimir asked, pointing his blades towards the well-dressed Crafter.

"First, language. Second, my name is Nowhere_Man—most call me Noman—and I'm here to tell you to… uh…" He glanced nervously to the surrounding Griefers who were glaring at him. As if he only just realized how outnumbered he was. "Um… I'm here to say… to leave Bailey alone! Please?" He added.

A quiet settled over the group of Griefers and I couldn't help but drop my head into the dirt. While I admired the lengths he would go to peacefully resolve this conflict… I had to wonder what exactly was going through his head when he thought running into the middle of Griefers was a good idea.

"…That doesn't tell me anything." Casimir looked around. "Does anyone here know who this guy is? And, if so, why I should care?"

"Yeah, I know who he is!" A female Griefer crowed. "He's the guy whose horse we killed! We spotted him fleeing east and tried to kill him."

"Okay, that's a little bit of background, but not much." He rested a hand on his hip as he regarded the well-dressed man. "What business do you have with this old man? Can't imagine him having friends. Or are you his newest student?"

"Newest…?" Noman's eyes widened. "Wait, I've seen your face… in Bailey's kitchen! You're the youth from that picture."

"I—he kept that picture?" Casimir's sword fell a bit and he sounded confused before shaking his head. "Anyway, yes, he had the picture because I was once his student. He taught me the ways of aikido… as outdated as they were."

"If you're his student, why are you attacking him?" Noman accused with a frown.

"Save any of that familial crap."

"Language!"

"He already told me he doesn't think of me as his student and that I shouldn't think of him as my master, father-figure, or whatever. As far as I'm concerned, all our ties are cut forever."

I gazed at the ground, disappointed. Tears were prickling at the edge of my vision, but I refused to cry.

"That isn't what I meant!" Noman shot back, causing me to look up. "If you were his student, then surely you know one of the cardinal rules of the Art of Peace." He rummaged in his backpack before pulling out a book. "All life is precious. Remember that?"

"Not all life." Casimir growled. "There are some people that don't deserve to live. I bet you know the sort I'm talking about." Noman shifted awkwardly in place. "Is it so selfish to fight against those sorts? To fight against the oppression in Akasha by those sorts? I don't think so. I can afford to be selfish with aikido."

"Oh yeah? Well… uh…" Noman quickly flipped through the book, scanning the pages for a suitable rebuttal. His eyes lit up and he pointed out an excerpt. "Aha! 'The Art of Peace is not easy. It is a fight to the finish, the slaying of evil desires and all falsehood within. On occasion, the Voice of Peace resounds like thunder, jolting human beings out of their stupor.' So there! 'Slaying of evil desires.' That's basically saying not to be selfish."

"So you say! But… um…" Casimir fidgeted with his sword before stomping forward and snatching the Art of Peace out of Noman's hand. The Griefers watched in absurd astonishment as he quickly flipped through the book, looking for an excerpt.

"Give me a minute… which page was the line about garments?"

"Page thirty-seven." Noman supplied helpfully.

"Thanks. Ah, here we go. 'Even though our path is completely different from the warrior arts of the past, it is not necessary to abandon totally the old ways. Absorb venerable traditions into this Art by clothing them with fresh garments, and build on the classic styles to create better forms.' That's what I'm doing!" He looked up with a smug smile and shoved the book back into Noman's chest. "I'm adapting the philosophy. So my version can be as selfish as I want."

"You're splitting hairs, here."

"No I'm not! It's right there in black and white!"

As the two bickered about the interpretation of the book, pulling it back and forth between them, I saw a few Griefers lean against one another and whisper. Some even pulled out clocks to check the time.

"Are we really watching this? Like, really watching this?"

"I… guess? So long as he feeds us, who cares?"

"Good point. Can we sit down then? My legs are cramping."

Oh dear Notch, what have my teachings become? I thought as the sun slowly ticked by.

Inventory (Noman): 1 Diamond Chestplate {Severe Shield}, 1 Diamond Sword [Sharpness I], 1 Shield, 1 Bow [Infinity], 34 Birch Wood Planks, 35 Iron Ingots, 19 Sticks, 13 Torches, 1 Bucket, 1 Crafting Table, 60 Beetroots, 62 Bread, 1 Birch Fence, 1 Bed, 1 Book {Notch Mission II}, 1 Book {Artifact List}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Book {The Art of Peace}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Dover Plains Entry Pass}, 1 Map {Dover Plains}, 1 Map {Mesa}, 1 Compass, 64 Arrows, 2 Glass Bottles, 10 Sugar, 7 Enchanted Golden Apples, 1 Diamond Helmet, 1 Leather Tunic [Dyed Blue] {Weak}, 1 Diamond Leggings, 1 Diamond Boots, 64 Emeralds, 64 Emeralds, 64 Emeralds, 64 Emeralds, 22 Emeralds, 2 Bones, 14 Rotten Flesh

[EXP: 7]

AN: It's... definitely one of the stranger scenes I've written.

I'm taking a Chapter or two off of the Beginners to see how the Paragons are doing. Also finishing up in Noman's Land (heh heh).

Anyway, I really wish I had something cool and epic planned for Chapter 100. I don't. I suppose I can answer review questions (minus spoilers) if you guys have any. Leave a review and I'll try to answer it next chapter at the top Author's Note. If you have any suggestions on what I should do for the 100th Chapter, let me know in PM.

So... hope there was enough humor. Laterz.