Any hope that the trial was just letting me get closure before booting me out was banished alongside my sleep when a ray of morning sunlight snuck through the blinds covering the shared bunk’s sole window.

There was something unfair about the fact that the man in the bunk next to mine was incapable of conversation while still snoring loud enough to make it through the thin walls.

The fact I was still listening to it meant there was still more to learn.

My first thought was the Warwalkers. Lots of technical knowledge there, and now that I’d passed his training, it was possible Kezil would let me look into them.

When I asked him about it at breakfast, he snorted. “We’ll see how much you retained. Time for you to start casting your own spells, as it were.”

It was an interesting turn of phrase, considering I still didn’t have the ability to cast anything inside the trial. Instead, he set me to work with the enchanting tools, starting at the nose, examining the sensors.

Checking to see what I’d retained, I realized. Thankfully it seemed this part wouldn’t take as long, since we were able to finish the front half of the ship by dinner.

“Special performance tonight, kid. Make sure you stick around,” Kezil said, nodding towards the far end of the park that sat outside the little food court. It served as a loading area during the day, though it had been repurposed as a stage several times throughout my time inside. Usually by the non-people around us who would put on a musical display or comedy routine.

Brief insights into lives that had otherwise been left out of the trial.

“Performance?” I asked, though I wasn’t really paying attention. I was busy pouring over the Warwalker designs, which he’d grudgingly handed over after eliciting a promise I wouldn’t tell the other enchantineers.

“Bladesingers, all the way up from the south coast,” Kezil said, grunting. “Rigid as a Leaf three months past service but they put on a good show.”

I stiffened, slowly lowering the pad, the designs forgotten.

“Bladesingers? Here?” I asked, flexing my hand.

I’d meant inside the trial, though Kezil obviously didn’t take it that way. There was no sign he understood we were in a trial, for all that he responded like a person the rest of the time.

“Yep, big shots like to have ‘em show off whenever they happen by. Reminder that even a tool of war can be made into an instrument of peace, or some such drivel,” Kezil said, waving his hand in the general direction of the stage. “Don’t buy it, myself. Any organization what proclaims its precepts of peace hard as the Bladesingers is hiding something, mark my words.”

“Understatement much,” I mumbled. Didn’t think about it often, but I still remembered the first Bladesinger performance I’d taken part in.

How different would it be when they didn’t attack their audience?

The answer was…

Not much. At least, not at first. Their songs and blades wove through the air together, each splitting it in distinctive patterns. The patterns weren’t just in the music, but visible in the very air.

Kezil and I sat at a table off to one side, with plenty of cover between us and the stage.

“Hey, hey, someone’s got a fan,” Kezil said, elbowing me and drawing my attention from the stage.

“Hmm?” I asked, turning away. Only to find him grinning back, gesturing towards a nearby table. One of the elven women there was looking directly our way, and when she caught me looking, she raised her hand in a little wave.

I gave her a simple nod before looking back towards the stage. “Not interested.”

“Bah. Kids these days,” Kezil grumbled. “Can’t see a good thing when it’s staring them down.”

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” I said, still studying the Bladesingers on stage.

“Youth’s wasted on the young,” Kezil grumbled, shaking his head before taking a long pull on his drink.

“Kezil, what do you know about the Bladesingers?” I asked, watching as they moved.

“Same as any elf, I suspect,” Kezil replied, his attention moving back to the stage. “Like to put on these performances to spread the peace of the blade or whatnot. Got a lot of support down in Bladeport.”

“Bladeport, really?” I asked, finally turning away from the performance.

He grinned, his gap toothed smile wide. “Not its official name, of course. But Port Eldari don’t got the same ring, do it?”

“You ever visited?” I asked. I’d heard of Port Eldari. It was on the south side of Terra Vista, near the border to the Howling Wastes. It was slightly farther from Spellford than Spellford was from Cape Aeternia. One of a pair of cities that lay on the edge of a small sea that drained directly into the ocean.

“Couple’a times,” Kezil confirmed, nodding, nursing his drink. “Back before I was assigned to the Dauntless. There’s a minor manastream that runs out that way. Not enough for this beast these days but smaller merchant ships. It’s a nice stop, though it gets cold come the Howl.”

He shook his head, shifting to look up at the Bladesingers. “Now, every city in Terra Vista is different. Even a round eared elf knows that. But Bladeport? It was split in two. Half of it was a bit like the ports of the Hundred Kingdoms, or so I hear. Normal. Well, much as any port can be.”

He paused as one of the other elves brought him a drink. Not a server, but one of the elves who ignored me. He thanked them for the drink, and promised he’d bring me by to check out an issue with their Runner the next day.

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Then, he turned back to me. “Where was I?”

“A normal port,” I supplied, my attention back on the stage where the Bladesingers dance had evolved, with them bouncing off the flat of each other’s blades.

“Right. Port was normal enough, but above it, built into the razor slopes that surround the Shallow Sea, the Bladesingers’ taste for decor matches their favored instrument, if you get my meaning.”

“Sharp?”

“Sharp and deadly. Not a place for us normal folk. If you’re not careful, you’ll be getting a shave two degrees too tight.”

“Are they that hostile?”

“Hostile? No, opposite if anything. They’ll sing your ear off about their mother’s great song, if you let’m. But they don’t make it safe to walk about. It’s all part of their songs,” Kezil said, putting his mug on the table, already drained. “Anyway, enjoy the rest of the show, kid. Some of us still know how to live life.”

With that, he got up and strode across the open area in front of the stage to a pair of slightly older elven women.

A few sentences later, one of them was rising and he was leading them out beneath the stage. And just like that, he was dancing along to the Bladesingers above.

The whole thing felt so different from what I knew of the Bladesingers that I just stared. After a while, I got lost in thought, the Bladesingers dancing in the background the entire time.

Hours of music, all done with a blade and a voice. To my surprise, that woman he’d pointed out ended up approaching and asking me for a dance.

I felt surprisingly bad about turning her down. Bad enough that I decided to retreat for the evening instead of approaching the Bladesingers.

The next day was spent with Kezil taking me through the rest of the ship, though we stopped by the one elf’s Runner first to adjust a minor hitch in its left cup.

Once more, the Bladesingers performed in the evening. This time, I gathered enough courage to speak to one during their break.

“Ah, brother of song and steel, this one is pleased to meet you,” the man said, bowing slightly, hand on the hilt of his blade. Which wasn’t that special. They never seemed to take their hands off their hilts.

“Brother, huh?” I replied. I hadn’t heard them call anyone else they talked to that.

“I can feel the Song within you,” he confirmed, nodding. “A truth greater than mine.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so I decided to go with my original question. “So, you guys are pacifists, right? Is there anything that might change that?”

“Ah. A common misconception,” the elf replied. “The peace of the blade is a stilling of our inner turmoil, directing it into the blade. Unfortunately, none are perfect, and our inner turmoil does occasionally manifest in violence.”

“That’s…” I was pretty sure that wasn’t what had happened with the Final Refrain. Well, this was a trial, so I figured there was no harm in asking directly. “What about the Final Refrain?”

The elf’s already pale face seemed to drain of blood. “You must not speak of such things, brother. There are those among our number who would cut you down for simply muttering the words.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a belief held by some of the more extreme members of our order,” the elf said, shaking his head. “They think that it is our duty to rip the rot out of civilization. Not that any agree on what such a thing would entail. Pay any singer who mentions such things no mind. To speak of the Final Refrain is a most grievous sin.”

That… wasn’t what I was expecting. It gave me even more to think about. Were the Bladesingers who’d been causing trouble all over really just a small subset of the order? Or was this guy lying to me, trying to save face?

There was one other option I could think of. If the Bladesingers really were huge proponents for peaceful solutions, sabotaging their image by pretending to be them would sabotage that image.

The only problem was, who benefited?

I was too ignorant of world politics to even guess. Maybe Thozgar or Arizar might know. I’d put the thought to her after I got out.

Whenever that was.

Either way, I realized something else. This guy was actually responding to me.

Redirecting the conversation slightly, I soon discovered he’d been part of the Bladesingers for a couple centuries.

And that his name was Vaden.

He bid me farewell as he returned to the show, but I tracked him down again at the end. We ended up sitting together long into the night, learning more about not just the Bladesingers, but about other parts of Terra Vista too. It wasn’t particularly important, but it was a refreshing change.

The next day was spent learning how to pilot one of the Runners. The same one we’d touched up the day before. We’d gone over their design during my initial pass, but Kezil figured any proper senior enchantineer needed to know how to operate everything they were taking care of.

I’d hoped it was the last of his lessons. It wasn’t.

The Bladesingers were there again the next evening, and I got introduced to several others. None of them were as fully realized as Vaden or Kezil, but they had a bit more life to them than the rest of the ship. It was just a few canned responses, but that was more than the blank stares of the others.

To my surprise, the woman who’d come up to me ended up joining us as well. Kezil had apparently decided to try to get us together. Disturbingly, she was just as real as Kezil and Vaden.

When we were headed back to our bunks after another evening of casual conversation, Kezil was shaking his head.

“Problem, old man?” I asked.

“She’s perfect for you, and you’re ignoring her for a woman you don’t even write,” Kezil said, fixing his empty white orb on me. “Never seen a pair talk about runic cascading glyphs with so much enthusiasm.”

Obviously he hadn’t talked with Arizar or Nexxa. Even Bevel could keep up with that sort of conversation.

Nor would he understand that Tamrie wouldn’t get anything I wrote her. Still, in a way, he had a point. She might not experience the same time dilation, but I could still write her letters. It might help me, even if they wouldn’t mean much to her.

“You know what, you’re right,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“So you’ll give Suzenne a chance?” Kezil asked, rubbing his hands together.

“I meant that I should write my girlfriend,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Just cause it won’t get delivered doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t it get… oh, for the Seven’s sake, why didn’t you mention you were grieving, boy?” Kezil demanded, running a hand down his face.

“That’s not…” I let out a sigh. Maybe if he thought I was grieving he’d stop trying to push Suzenne on me. “Look, let’s just get to bed.”

“Right. Hey, at least you’ll get to visit the bridge tomorrow. Bright linings, boy.”

That…

Well, that did sound interesting.

After writing a letter to Tamrie, I ended up spending the rest of my night reading over one of the core texts from the Bladesingers Vaden had provided me.

The Grand Choir, the group who led the Bladesingers, were the only ones who could ‘direct’ the Final Refrain. And while Vaden had assured me that most Bladesingers didn’t really believe in the Final Refrain, there was a note about a ‘schism’ faction that held tightly to the idea.

They’d even established their own separate Grand Choir. And while they were a small faction, less than a percent of the overall organization, they still numbered in the thousands.

More than enough to cause chaos.

In the morning, I found myself contemplating what I’d ask Vaden about that evening even as I followed Kezil to the bridge. It was the one part of the ship we hadn’t gone through with the enchantments. Instead, he’d had me practice on the much more protected battle bridge.

Apparently, the bridge was no place for any but the most senior of enchantineers.

When we made our way into the space, I was almost violently snapped out of my thoughts.

Standing at the helm, their hands clasped behind their back was a familiar form. It stood at nearly twelve feet tall, skeletal form fully extended, horns nearly brushing the high ceiling.

Keeper turned its head, the motion far smoother than I was used to from the skeletal librarian.

“Ah, young omnivore. Congratulations. I hope you find yourself well sated.”

With that simple statement, I found myself outside the trial, my hand still on the door.

The pain hit like the Dauntless was attempting to fit itself inside my skull.