The Reprimand
"You seem troubled, my brother."
Storm of Amber's approach shook Nameless Ravine out of his reverie.
"Is it so obvious?" Ravine's father, though a mere mortal, had instructed his son in the disciplines of patience and awareness. Had his control lapsed so, that such a bold and heedless man as Storm of Amber could peer into his soul?
"You are standing here on the battlements, in all your regalia. I've never seen you don your armor unless you intend to use it. And yet you've stood silent as a statue up here on the windy ramparts ever since Rivers and Leaf left on their journey. Do you fear for them?"
Ravine wordlessly drew The Promise from its sheath, considered it. The sunlight played off of the thousands of tiny etched ideograms on the blade, reflecting elaborate patterns of light onto the two circle-mates' hands and faces.
"How can I fear for him, when he has crafted so marvelous a work as this sword? Or for that matter, this very fortress?" Ravine took back the sword, and drove its point into the floor. The point slipped effortlessly between two of the rampart's polished wooden floorboards, leaving nary a scratch. "See, the blade and the wall know their maker, and they recognize each other as brothers. Tell me - in your dreams this night, you saw his visions?"
Storm nodded silently.
"Then you have seen that he would reshape all of creation. He would have every simple hut and plow be as harmonious and beautiful" - he waved his hand at the fortress walls, at the gardens within, and the roads without - "as all of this. His vision is so pure and so great that even an Abomination's poisons could not marr it. What do I have that can compare?"
Storm frowned. "You have your Immaculate Perfection and your Sutras. You would bring harmony to all in creation."
Nameless Ravine angrily sheathed his blade. "I would turn them against my father's killers! I would have the people see the Order's hypocrisy and cast them down into the abyss!"
Storm hesitated - "You seek justice..."
"No, in my heart of hearts, I do not seek justice. I seek vengeance." Nameless Ravine's voice was quiet and terrible. "But that vengeance seems further and further with every coming of the dawn. My father's trusted servants are dead by our enemies' hands. My father's longtime associates, the very people I would rally to my cause, shun me because of my Exaltation. I have given up my staff and my robes, and taken up this sword and this armor."
He turned.
"Tell me, sworn brother... What am I? What kind of man have I become? Does the Mandate of Heaven truly demand that I let these new responsibilities - to guard and to teach and to train armies of my brothers' people - take precedence over avenging my father's death?"
Storm of Amber had no answer. He turned and left his friend to his dark thoughts. Once he reached the parade ground, though, a flare of light and and a shocked expression on Cathak Nekuto's face caused him to turn and look back towards the ramparts.
Upon the heights, there now stood not one, but two figures! Nameless Ravine stood right where Storm of Amber had left him in full battle regalia, The Promise drawn, with his churning, wailing anima banner boldly blazing, facing off against... a man with the same height as Ravine, the same simple monk's robes and the same wooden quarterstaff that Ravine was wont to wield when not geared for battle. He could not see the second man's face, for it was concealed by the light of a second Dawn Caste anima flare.
Storm of Amber's mind reeled. That second man - he has the exact same anima banner as Nameless Ravine!
The second man charged with his staff. For the briefest instant, the two switched places - "The 'Kharmic Inversion Riposte'", Nekuto muttered. "The staff will break upon The Promise. And then, with an audible SSSRRRACK, the Nameless Ravine in Robes shattered the Heavenly Guardian Defense of the Nameless Ravine in Arms, sending The Promise flying through the air to land at Nekuto's feet. Up on the walls, both anima banners flickered and vanished.
Storm of Amber and Cathak Nekuto sprinted for the stairs.
By the time they reached their friend's side, he was out cold, with an enormous bruise on his head. Lying at his side was a rice-paper scroll with a message written with effortless brushstrokes: "Doubt Is Unworthy."
The robed man was nowhere to be found.
