The first thing Brin did, before even opening his eyes, was create a conscious thread. He gave it the smallest amount of time possible, just one second of perceived time for every month that passed. This would be his lifeline. If the personality pollution of his new Class got too bad, if he ever started to forget who he was, he could call up this thread and let it remember. Since it would have his real personality as a recent memory, it would be in the best position to straighten him out.

He hoped he'd also be able to use [Memories in Glass] for that if necessary. He had a perfectly preserved record of Class Selection and nearly every moment of his life from the moment he'd earned the Skill, though he hadn't made much effort to organize them yet. One glass ring was constantly recording, and when it ran out of space he'd toss it in a sack and make a new one. Another glass ring stored all his best spells so that his Directed Threads could use them on demand.

Contingencies in place, he allowed himself to open his eyes. He smiled, a real, full smile, the kind of smile he could only do when he was completely alone with no need to worry about how creepy he might look. It felt good.

He wasn't sure how he'd feel when he'd made his choice; he'd thought he might regret it right away. He didn't. He had an edge, a real shot to make a difference in this war. More importantly, he had a secret. He had a rare and possibly unique class and he was the only person in the world that knew. It was intoxicating.

He gave himself a moment to bask in the feeling, laughing silently for the joy of it. Yes. This is it. This is what he'd been working for all this time. He was here.

Then the moment ended. It wasn't like his brain stopped working just because his emotions were all out of whack. He could see the problems with what he was feeling right now. Everyone knew why he'd requested alone time. If he displayed any drastic personality shifts people would start to suspect that he'd taken an evil Class.

That simply would not do.

He smiled again when he realized that the problem he'd been so worried about was really no problem at all. This Class wouldn't just allow him to act like himself; it would insist on it. All of the weight of this Class was bent towards keeping itself a secret. The poison was its own antidote.

He called on his illusion magic, not even needing a Directed Thread to put the simple spell into place. Reflecting light was one of the first things he'd ever learned to do with light magic.

He created a mirror and looked at his reflection. Yeah, that smile needed to go. Flatten the curve just a bit, move the cheeks just so. Not the murderous smile of a hyena looking at a particularly tasty-looking carcass. A trustworthy, inviting smile. A smile that said "You've come to the right place. I can help you." Perfect. But one smile wouldn't do, he needed a smile for every occasion. A consoling smile. A shared joke. A goofy smile for when he was the butt of a joke. Check, check, check.

He examined his face in the mirror. It was dark in the tent; it must've been nighttime outside, but his darkvision was good enough that he didn't miss any details. He looked more honest now, more knightly. He was pleased with the results. Why hadn't he done this months ago?

No wonder he'd been having trouble keeping his secret when all you had to do was look at him to know that he was up to something. No, this was his new face. This was the Brin he should show the world.

After all, if he had some leeway to alter his own personality here, then he had a chance to turn into the type of person he wanted to be. This was an honest face. It was the face of someone who knew he was an [Illusionist], but was determined not to abuse it. He would spy on the enemy and misdirect them where he could, but he wasn't going to lie to his friends or invade their privacy. He certainly would never mess with someone's thoughts or emotions for his own personal gain. This was the face of someone with a very dangerous power, kept chained tightly with bonds of morality and honor.

He thought about removing his scars. He could keep some, of course, but why did he need so many? Who could trust someone whose face looked like it had been used as a cutting board?

A spike of fear had him flinch away from the illusory mirror. No... no! If he kept thinking like that he'd give himself away. Too far!

He calmed himself, took a breath, and resummoned the mirror. Then of course he needed to adjust his face again. No, the point of this wasn’t to overwrite his own personality to try to force himself to become some kind of perfect, honorable knight. That would just turn him into a more pathetic version of Lothar. The purpose was to overwrite the twisted [Delusionist] personality with his normal, real one.

He liked his scars. He thought they were cool. That hadn't changed so he wasn't going to change it.

He put a spark of mischief back into his smile; he wanted to keep his same sense of humor. After all, hadn't the first big giveaway that his Class had corrupted him last time been when he had thought "Bog Standard" wasn’t funny?

He put a little dash of seriousness into his expressions. He was still a Second; they needed to listen to him when he shouted. He also added a touch of weariness. He'd been through a lot and it had aged him, mentally if not physically.

He looked again and this time it was perfect. This was the real Brin. Or if not, it was the Brin he should be, weathered by the reality of the world. Same guy, same personality and opinions, but slightly more mature. He'd seen the horrors of war, but instead of letting it unravel him slowly from the inside, he'd accepted it and grown wiser.

This was good. He was ready.

He channeled [Say What's True] into his illusions for the first time, feeling the power of the Wyrd, no longer as an observer but as someone calling on the power directly. It was a strangely seductive feeling, like he could make the world into anything he wanted it to be. He forced that feeling down and remembered his mission, remembered the personality he'd projected into the mirror.

Stolen story; please report.

This is you. This is what you're like. This is true. This is real.

[Mirrored Duplicity] completely erased his Mental Resistances, letting his own spell work with full power on his mind. He repeated the words like a mantra until the strange feelings ceased and [Say What's True] stopped working. Had it failed? He looked into the mirror, wondering why the Skill wasn't finding purchase anymore.

It was a moot point. That face in the mirror, that actually was him. If there was one mistake, it was underselling how tired he was. He was exhausted. He thought about curling up on the floor and taking a nap right there. After all, there wasn't any time limit on how long he could stay here.

But no, he couldn't do that. Not until he knew that his Lance was ok. Duty called.

One last thing, he changed his [Hide Status] to [Knightly Glass Conjuror]. There was no way anyone would believe [Glass Invocationist] anymore, if only because it was barely Rare and his work in Canibri earned him a high Rare at the very least.

He left the tent and immediately ran into a problem. A woman seated at a desk facing the Class Selection tents, all lined up in a row. Was it strange that they had a designated place for this? He was the only person he'd ever heard of who'd ever had an optional Class Selection. His dark suspicion eased a bit when he remembered that even normal Class Selection gave you a minute or two to get to someplace safe before putting you unconscious. It would make sense for them to designate a place for people to do this safely, even if the only people who used it were pages and other children going through their first System Day.

The woman was fast asleep with her head down on a piece of paper, still holding a quill in the other hand. A sign hanging down the front of the desk read, "Please report to the liaison officer (here) for duty location."

Well, he'd better...

Something cold gripped his insides. Check first. He [Inspected] her.

Name: Popkin Moor

Level: 23

Class: Deputy of Coordination

The new [Wyrdic Inspect] had some new information for him, and it almost took him by surprise how much he suddenly knew about her. She didn't have any Wyrd on her as far as [Witch]-craft was concerned, but he could feel the way that she related to him and their surroundings. She was here for her job. She definitely wasn't supposed to be sleeping, but for how long she'd been awake, it was unfair of her commander to ask her to sit alone in the dark for hours and not fall asleep. This lapse was only partially her fault–so judged the Wyrd.

One more small detail, the most important one. She wasn't just here to tell people where to go when they woke up. She was here to watch them when they came out.

His new [Wyrdic Inspect] didn't go so far as to hint that her Class was fake, but he could make the obvious deduction. She had some kind of [Inspect]-focused Class. He absolutely couldn't let her see him.

He checked her paper. Just as he'd expected he saw his name.

Tent 4. Brin isu Yambul.

There was a little blank box for her to fill in his new Class when he came out. He used illusion magic to write "[Knightly Glass Conjuror]" on her paper. He impressed a bit of Wyrd into the illusion to say, "You wrote this. Don't you remember?" He created a thread to keep an eye on this and make sure to dismiss the illusion before anyone else saw it. Then he snuck away.

Best to let her sleep a little longer anyway. They'd all had a long day.

After that, it wasn't too hard to find his way. Most of the [Knights] of the Order of the Long Sleep kept the closed eye that was the symbol of their order somewhere on their armor, and he quickly found the Order's new camp. When it came time for battle they might all fight together, but when they were camped it was clear that this was a dozen loosely-connected forces instead of one unified throng.

The ground was covered with ash and crunched as he walked, but he didn't bother to mute the sound. The ground where the allied forces camped was completely scorched and black, but if he looked past the armies they were surrounded by Arcaena's natural lush beauty.

If he didn't already know better, he would assume that the allies were the bad guys, an invading force destroying every living thing they touched. The black ash on the ground stained everything, giving the entire throng a dark and sordid hue. Of course, he could only think that way if he didn't know the kind of evil that was lurking in the palm trees and sedges.

He found the Order and had to wait outside the perimeter for ten minutes while a page verified his identity, but they finally let him through.

[Knights] were everywhere. Most slept in tents, but even at this hour he could see dozens of them walking about. High level [Knights], men of renown, men who would rival Galan before he gained his advancement from that Quest. When the Order had been stationed at the old castle, they'd all been spread out on patrols but now they were all here. It was more [Knights] than he'd seen in one place since they'd done the joint exercises.

The Page asked him if he wanted to find his Lance or his Prime, and Brin figured if Cid was still up he'd best go talk to him. The Page led him to a much taller and more spacious tent that was probably a planning area for commanders, and then Brin waited again. Annoyingly, the tent was warded against illusions so he couldn’t even eavesdrop. After a half hour, Cid came out, looking dazed and worn down like he'd just gotten out of a very long and boring meeting.

He shook himself awake when he saw Brin. "You're finally back! I've heard of Class selections going that long, but I've never seen it!"

"What do you mean?" Brin asked.

"You were out for two days."

"That's impossible..." said Brin, but it really wasn't, was it? He'd felt like ages had passed in the vision. He'd fought against endless hordes of demons, first alone, then with the Mirror Knight, and then with the Glassbound Illusionist and the others. Each time he'd been in sort of a fugue state where he fought without thinking, but looking back on it, wearing those Classes down had taken quite a bit of time. "What... What happened in the meantime? The army is right where I left it. We haven't advanced any further into Arcaena at all."

"A lot of nothing. You're sort of Frenarian, right? What have you heard about General Grimwalt?" asked Cid.

"According to everyone except Lumina, he's the best General that Frenaria has ever had. The hero of a hundred battles. Lumina thinks he's cautious to a fault," said Brin.

Cid nodded, tapping his chin. "That's my read on him as well. He refuses to commit his men, and since he commands the largest force here no one else will make a move unless they get a commitment from him. We're stuck."

"Really? So nothing has happened at all?"

"Brych spent a few hours in the stockade for gambling. Meredydd and Aeron are working on some kind of scheme to set up a food cart in the training grounds–you'll have to ask them about it. Hedrek is being weird. I think it's about his Class. Maybe you could talk to him?"

"Sure. Oh, right, I just remembered your Class. How is it being a [Knight Captain]?"

Cid looked at Brin with flat, unblinking eyes. "It's a lot of boring meetings, Brin. It's exactly what I became a [Knight] to get away from. What about you? I don't think I trust my [Inspect] here. What did you really get?"

"I became what I needed to be," said Brin.

"That's not ominous at all."

"So really nothing has happened with the war?" Brin asked.

Cid shook his head but accepted the change of subject. "It's a game for casters right now. [Witches] are hiding in the grass and throwing curses at us, and there's a combination of about seven different Classes that are throwing them back. It's more or less a stalemate. It's quiet, except every once in a while an [Archmage] will cast something that lights up the whole sky."

If the [Archmages] were here... dared he hope? "Is Lumina–"

"She's not here," said Cid. "But her money is. Actually, if you're not too tired, we can go right now. Meaty is dying to get started on your armor."

Brin had been planning on finding his Lance's tent and crashing, but suddenly he didn't feel tired in the least. "Lead the way!"