This morning I woke up and all my stories were gone. There was no explanation for the absence either. I’m a little worried but also, somehow not. There’s something in the back of my mind that makes this feel like this is supposed to happen. Also, the knowledge from the stories was still there. The influence and effect all that studying had, and was still having, on me were still there.

I just couldn’t “see” the stories anymore. It probably helps that I had enough talent and potential to passively study all of the tens of thousands of stories that I had by that point. Another reason, that I didn’t freak out, was because, by the time the morning reached its mid-way mark, the stories were back again. Re-appearing without explanation.

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The day of the tournament finally came. All of us Elders were forced to get our shit together, power through any hangovers we were suffering, and say goodbye to any vacation hookups we’d made, and finally go back to work like grown-ups. The disciples had to do the same, and despite the fact that there were only a scant few who were younger than twenty in the crowd, they weren’t dealing with this anywhere near the aplomb of us Elders. 

The juniors were being influenced by the nervous energy due to the tournament, and the toll of any excesses they’d taken part in during the days before, so it was a bit like corralling a crowd of children...At least at first. Eventually, both the elders and the disciples channeled enough spiritual energy to get themselves to a good baseline state, and we were back to business as usual.

The old man. Ancestor Fang said a few words to the Disciples. Jack and I didn’t really pay attention. Though we still diverted just enough of our mental resources so that we'd hear any important information, we’d basically just stood there pretending to pay attention. I was watching a show that was bundled as part of one of the many new stories that kept popping up every few hours or so. Jack used our mental connection to watch the show with me. Since it was a comedy show, we basically were testing our outward discipline, because we had to keep our expressions straight, as a clumsy, genki, stripper-giraffe slid through a stuffy mortuary, while riding an overly oiled corpse like a surfboard.

From what little we “did” catch, Ancestor Fang didn’t really say anything too important. It was just the usual platitudes and exhortations, regarding doing one’s best, making a good show of things, and being a member of the sect. I will say that the good ancestor seemed to actually believe what he was saying, it wasn’t just purely hot air. Ancestor Fang seemed to earnestly, and sincerely, love our Forest of Life and Death, and the junior-sects that served beneath it. That was one credit that I’d give to the strange, cranky, old man, who for some reason seemed to have it out for Jack and I, if I wasn’t misreading the hostile, scrutinizing, looks that he gave us whenever we ran into him.

After everyone had been rounded up, and we all had to listen to some speeches and brief lectures, from the Ancestor and High-Elders, who were at the helm of this show, it was time for us to actually head to the tournament. Then fifteen minutes passed by and that time came and went with nobody moving a muscle. Then thirty minutes went by and we were all still hanging around the hotel’s lounge. And when forty-five minutes had passed we all officially realized that something had gone awry.

“Motherfucker...Where the hell are those carriages?!” grumbled Elder Trefor. Angrily putting away the communication tablet he'd been using. 

“What’s wrong?” I said. Since I was nearby, and it seemed like one of those moments where you were supposed to make sympathetic noises for the purpose of camaraderie, or whatever.

“Huh? Oh, yeah...it’s just...The damn carriages that we chartered were supposed to be over here two hours ago...Not forty-five minutes ago, but a full two hours ago...I keep calling to see what’s happening, they keep telling me that they’re on their way, but I’m starting to get a bad feeling,” said Trefor.

“Can’t we just fly?” said one of the junior-elders.

“What?! No...Or else we wouldn’t have bothered with the stupid airship...No, the Spice Republic might be one of the nations that our Tree of Passionate Verdance, and the FLD by extension, is friendly with, but the balance of powers between nations and the sects is such, that unless a particular sect outright owns a nation, that country will generally be strict regarding who gets to be in their airspace...Honestly, even our sect wouldn’t allow randos to be flying around in our skies, so yeah, flying is not an option,” said Trefor.

“How about calling a few buses or taxis, those old-world vehicles are pretty spacious…” said another elder.

“Absolutely, not!” said Elder Miya. All but shouting. Sounding just as high-strung and firm as always.

“I don’t think it was ‘that’ bad an idea...Or you know, maybe we could just have them all go on foot. It’s not that far away,” said Elder Trefor.

“Yeah, of course, you don’t...You wear sandals and t-shirts to the council meetings, but this is actually important, Trefor. There are going to be other sects, and the heads of other powerful groups, present at the venue. If we show up there in a fashion that’s not suitable...We’ll lose a major amount of face,” said Elder Miya. Hand on her forehead, like she could feel a headache coming.

“Mhm, would teleportation...or spatial-gates be okay,” I said. After a moment of thought.

“Heh, yeah...I guess it’d be. The rules regarding flight weirdly don’t affect teleportation because it is A) too rare, B)too damn handy, C) too hard to police, and D) usually only possible for kind of terrifying people who can safely ignore most of the measures put in place to stop folk from flying,” said Trefor. Laughing for some reason, or the other, after he'd finished speaking.

“That actually would be a good option, unfortunately, we don’t have any spatial-type artifact prepared and we don’t have anyone that can...Oh, wait...Are you saying that you can…?” said Elder Miya. Distractedly responding before her eyes widened in surprise. An expression mirrored on many of the other elders in the room.

“Uh, yeah...Both of us are able to dabble with space-time hijinks. Jill here is much better at it than I am though, so you should probably ask him,” said Jack. Her expression turning uncharacteristically meek under all that attention.

“Is...Is that for real, Elder Calloway?” said Trefor. Turning to me.

“Er...Yeah,” I said. Nodding. Also, not doing that hot with all that extra attention.

A few minutes later a procession of one thousand disciples and the handful of junior-, senior-, and high-, Elders that were tasked with guarding, guiding, and looking after them all, emerged from a massive gate made of flowers, ivies, brambles, and leaves. The crowd of mortals and fellow cultivators looked on in shock as the Tree of Passionate Verdance’s people arrived at the entrance of Five-Fire City’s great arena.

Overall, even if I wasn’t much of a mage, I couldn’t help but be pleased with the work that I’d done on such short notice. Creating the spatial bridge-point was the simple part. Designing and encoding the materialization of the gate, so that we’d actually make a proper “entrance” on the scene, instead of merely appearing at our destination, was the harder task. Considering the looks we got as we entered the arena, and the fact that old Ancestor Fang’s expression seemed to be at least a couple degrees warmer as we entered, I’d cautiously call the spell a success.