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    We stopped in front of the building we’d been directed to, and I couldn’t help but stare. “Friendly Bar,” I read aloud. “I can’t tell if this person is really lazy or a recursion genius,” I said with a laugh.


    “Might be both,” Callie said cautiously. “So be careful. Honestly the recursion might already be working on us. I feel…a bit too relaxed. Remember what the cloak said, these people are violent thieves. That’s why we left most of the others behind. Honestly, I don’t think we even NEEDED Abel.”


    “Hey,” protested my teacher in an offended tone. “I resent that. Everyone needs me.”


    I shrugged. “He’s loud and aggressive. Seemed like a good fit for the mission. And before you say it, yes Bethy is louder and more aggressive, but she’s also chaotic, and we’re trying to keep this relatively low key.”


    I chuckled, but rather than go in, I just stared at the sign for the bar. The Casual Friends were just another example of a powerful force created by a powerful person. Maybe not the same tier as someone like Zeke, but it was still a likeminded group of people. They were all dedicated to the Ordinary Citizen, to advancing his Path, and something about that…resonated.


    My eyes fixed on the sign more intently, and Abel opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Callie. Inside my soul, the Ten Demons Tree spun, an indescribable energy falling on the Ten Demons Tome, strengthening it in a way I couldn’t really describe.


    In front of me, my Path stretched out, superimposed over the world around me, and within it, I could see more than I ever had before. Not everything, but more. Why did Ascendants create groups? Why did the candidacy require an organization? Some people might say it was just to spread fame, to use recursion, but it was more than that.


    Renown had qualitative difference, and it influenced the makeup of stats. Higher ranked beings gave more renown, but more than that, even the individual units were important, their construction meaningful beyond the obvious structure of skill and form.


    Culture. Context. Meaning. These things permeated the world. A dragon was just a big lizard, but because of its power and cultural significance, dragons commanded respect. Draconic recursion had effects beyond just the obvious, just like all other recursion. It wasn’t just obvious things either. In some cultures, people venerated the turtle, prizing its defense, and in some they held up the monkey, which was fast and agile.


    Ascension wasn’t just about stacking stats, or even putting them together in new ways. It was about STORIES. Stories were inexplicably steeped in culture and context. When they told us to create our own factions, it wasn’t just to gather power, it was to establish a foundation.


    Even as I watched the world shift slightly, I could feel my staff emitting an almost invisible aura. It was like the skills and abilities I had were containers full of individual stats. You could increase the container size by ranking up, or you could increase the complexity and fill the container with more pieces, but eventually you would run out of room. Once you did though, you could still pour water into the container, and fill up the gaps.


    Something in this revelation spoke to me, and I realized what it was. Bloodlines. Divine Skills, inborn abilities. My grandfathers purification flame was just…MORE than other skills the same level. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t necessarily complexity (though it WAS more complex than my own skills). Even skills which were made similarly complex seemed to fall short. It was why Zagan was so damned powerful. Why Sammael was.


    That was this same energy. That culture. That context. That intangible force I’d just felt seeping into my tome. In fact, I was pretty sure that was the key to properly opening a Domain once I hit S-rank. Something about it called to me in a strange way.


    And then it was over, and I was staggering to the side, winded by the experience. Callie caught me, looking concerned. “You ok?”


    “Fine,” I assured her. “I think…I think I just had an Enlightenment? Like you did when you first touched the Abyss. I’m pretty sure the staff helped. I don’t know, I’ve never really experienced anything like that before. Usually my epiphanies happen during big dramatic moments with lots of power being thrown around.”


    Abel looked impressed. “Interesting. If I had to guess, I would say it probably noticed you were coming up to a threshold and pushed you over. There are trees and plants that can do that, help with enlightenment, and they’re mostly soul related.”


    “Well, I don’t think we have time for me to process what I learned,” I laughed. “But it’s not like I could forget it. I can parse what it means later, for now we have a meeting to get to. Be on your guard.”


    I was kind of reeling, but I adjusted quickly. That had been…intense. But it was also essential. I’d caught the edge of something vital to my progress. It was something I was sure I’d need. That force was necessary for someone like me, who wanted to open a massive Domain. I needed to figure out how to gather it, and I was pretty sure the succession war was meant to help with exactly that.


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    But that was a problem for another time. For the moment, I just triggered Mornax, making sure Sammael was reinforcing my defensive ability as much as possible.Then, squaring my shoulders, I strode across the road and knocked on the door of the bar.


    The door was pale, tidy wood. Well cared for and expertly maintained, the only disruption in the pristine surface aside from some low spots from probably sanding and buffing was a single nail, holding a sign that said simply ‘Closed’, hanging from a single rope hooked into each of the top corners.


    There was a slight pause and then the door opened, showing a large, heavyset man with a thick beard and small, beady eyes. “What?” He said bluntly.


    “Hello, we came for a friendly conversation,” I said politely, reciting the passphrase. I was six and a half feet tall and wearing terrifying black armor, so I decided to try being nice. Being intimidating was great sometimes, but some people had adverse reactions to being afraid of someone. Normally, I wouldn’t be against scaring a scumbag a little bit to speed things up, but this guy seemed like a bit of a bully. If he caved under the pressure that would be fine, but if he locked up because he thought I was trying to humiliate him it would probably have the opposite effect.


    He squinted at me suspiciously, and I briefly wondered if that had been my Fatewalker intuition helping smooth the way, because he eventually nodded, opening the door to let us inside. “Right, come in then. The Citizen is in the middle of his usual friendly card game.”


    We entered the bar, and found it more crowded than expected. The Casual Friends were here in force, talking and drinking and shouting, all watching the card game in the middle of the room. A group of men sat around a bloodstained table, one of them was currently holding a cleaver over his outstretched hand, a manic grin on his reddened face obscured by his large mustache. “Two fingers lads! Who has the guts to pony up?”


    Another man, smaller and more fine boned, slammed both hands down on the table. “Damn it, what’s there to be scared of? None of these are my originals anyway. I’ve got some spares at home I can swap out if I need them.”


    I cocked my head at our guide, who just grinned. “They’re playing a hand of poker,” his voice was smug. “We’ll wait until they pay out before I take you over, we can just wait over here.” He gestured to an empty spot next to a big table of rowdy drunks.


    One of them, a sloppy looking man with mutton chops, saw us coming, and turned to grin at us. Or rather. He turned to grin at Callie. “Well aren’t you a spicy little thing?” he slurred maliciously. “You looking for a seat, precious? I can share my chair.”


    My knuckles cracked, and I debated caving his skull in with a Mornax hardened fist, but I knew Callie could handle it, so I just waited. Sure enough, she smiled sweetly at him and said “Get lost”. And then he was just…gone.


    As was his chair, it took me a minute to realize what had happened, and by the time I had, everyone had stopped laughing and cheering. The whole bar got really quiet as they took in the shadow their friend had just fallen through, then turned to look at us dangerously. I ignored them, glancing at my wife. “Where’d you send him?” I asked in amusement.


    “Nowhere,” she said with a smile. “He’s just falling in the dark. He’ll pop back out once I’m out of range, but my range isn’t exactly small these days. Maybe some time alone to think will help him reevaluate his manners.”


    The man with the knife had stood up, and he stalked over to where we stood. Despite knowing she was capable of handling it, I couldn’t let that particular offense go, and I stepped between them, my wings spreading a bit to push back all the surrounding figures. The man, who I realized was seven feet tall at least, towered over me, squinting down at us menacingly. “Do you know who that was?”


    “No?” I said uncertainly, expecting some diatribe about how that was his brother or something.


    He deflated. “Damn, I was hoping you had some idea. I was going to kick him out, but I doubt I’ll remember to find out his name.” He beamed at us, hand slamming down on my shoulder and then Callie’s. “A drink for our new friends lads,” he crowed. “For taking out the trash!”


    Everyone cheered, their drinks shoved into the air in celebration (I got the impression they were more excited to have something to celebrate than for our actual actions) and within moments we had big mugs of some kind of beer shoved into our hands as we were herded to the central table, which had been cleared off.


    “Sit, sit,” the Citizen said cheerfully. “Guests are always welcome at the Friendly Bar. Now, what can this humble Citizen do for you? Such a charming couple, and their dashing chaperone, of course.” He winked at Abel. “I get the impression you’re just our kind of man, like can recognize like you know.”


    Abel grinned. “Oh trust me,” he said in amusement. “I know.”


    “We were actually hoping for some help,” I cut in, deciding to interrupt their showing off. “I’m looking for some friends of mine who went missing in Ashborn. I heard you’ve got some connections around there.”


    He nodded jovially. “Aye, that I do. I’ve got friends all over. Always better to make friends than enemies. Of course, friends have to build strong relationships, which requires a bit o’ give and take. Tell me, new friends, what exactly are you plannin’ ta give? To establish this wonderful new relationship?”


    I’d been expecting this. I decided to start low. “Fifty fine scales,” I told him, dumping them on the table. “A welcome gift for a new friend.”


    He barked out a laugh. “See lads, this is the kind of friend I like to make. Smart and generous.” His smile dropped. “But of course, that’s a shallow basis for a friendship. To arrange passage out to Ashborn, and I presume a guide, we’d need to be much better friends than that. I trust you’re not finished?”


    Another fifty scales fell out, joining the first set. “An exotic,” I said bluntly. “And that’s as far as I’m willing to go. Now, you going to take it or leave it?” The whole bar went silent again as everyone took in my direct challenge, and the Citizen’s lips split in another, darker smile. I really hoped my instincts didn’t just pick right then to stop working.