Three sounds quite awful to say, so I mentally note the young man down as ‘Triple.’

  “Hello there! I’m betting by your number that you’re the winner from Rumble B?”

  “Yes, I am.” I reply back curtly. That came out a bit ruder than I’d hoped. The bitter aftertaste of memories still linger in my mouth, souring my words it seems.

  With all the energy of a Labrador and all the roguish mischievousness of a fox, the canine young man is not only unperturbed but responds all the more merrily.

  Triple speaks in a lilting, charming manner, “Good! Otherwise, I’d’ve worried I’d forgotten how ta count!” He speaks quickly, as if his words are following the rhythm of a song that only he hears.

  Perhaps he could also hear dog whistles? A slight smile returns to my face at that thought. My good humor is quickly registered by my new neighbor.

  “You looked the most approachable out of out fellows here, the rest seem like a an awful bunch don’tchya think?”

  Immediately speaking negatively regarding everyone else seems like quite a mean, small-minded thing to do for such a bright puppy.

  I would have supposed him to be a snakelike personage, but, to be quite honest, the rest of the competitors did seem quite…well, they were possessing of a unique aesthetic combination of freak-show strong man and oil spill victim.

  The pirate crews, ransackers of ships, might have been well put upon to welcome these creatures among their ranks. Surly thug-like men spit like camels and glisten like slugs.

  By the measure of hygiene, the canine Triple is the most preferable compatriot by far. A small smirk quirks my lips up to a lopsided half crescent moon.

  Sweat and blood and spit are not unusual sights in a game of life and conquest. In fact, the spritely young man clean of face and conscience is the Ferus among Asinus, the noble canine among the dirty mutts.

  “I’ve kept worse company, I am afraid.”

  “Ah? But you seem some posh and polished misss … terrrr?” Triple blinks, stretching out his words to allow time to judge my response.

  I ugh, the bubble of unwanted joy popping out of my mouth with the force of a soda fizzling out of a just uncapped bottle. His face was quite adorable as he hesitated regarding terms of address, his questioning eyes full of innocent confusion.

  “I’ll just go by ‘Ardent’ for today,” I reply, biting my cheek to contain my ughter, a purse-lipped grin twisting my face into an unfamiliar visage.

  A bark of ughter in turn escapes from my companion. “So I take it you aren’t Ardent every other day. Any chance I can wriggle your other name out of you?”

  I lean forward towards him, and reply in a conspirator’s whisper, “You could always call me Master.”

  A pleasant feeling spreads within me and warms my frigid body upon seeing Triple recoil in shock. A slight red tinge of embarrassment blesses his cheeks with a cherry hue as I ugh, freely this time.

  “I’m looking to firmly establish a Sect. So, I’m Sect Master every other day.”

  A bit of surprise and mostly suspicion enters Triple’s eyes and cast swirling light and shadow across his face. “A martial art’s sect?” He asks with a forced cheerful tone.

  My smile stiffens and turns to stone, petrified by the wronged stare of a wolf. This change in my companion’s mien is reflected in myself threefold, my heart plummeting into my stomach and my stomach rising to my throat. For a moment, I feel the desire to throw myself on the ground and plead and beg for him not to look at me like that, not to leave. Don’t go, don’t go, stay, I’m sorry, it’s me, I’m wrong, don’t go-

  I swallow, forcing my organs to their pces and calming my twittering soul. I have Master and that’s all I need. Gaining Triple’s friendship is just in order to please Master. Yes, it’s for Master and not for me. I don’t need him, I just want to gain influence for Master’s sake.

  Calm, calm, calm.

  I am as smooth and undisturbed as the ke. The ripples of life spread across my soul, yet I do not change.

  I continue speaking smoothly, with the charisma of a used cart salesman.

  I have nothing to fear, nothing to desire.

  “I seek to rehabilitate a Sect of Cowards and Cutthroats into one of Devotion and Diligence.”

  “And why are you here, then?” Triple’s face settles on a mix of distrust and indifference, to my nagging dismay.

  “I need new blood to control the old, fire of passion and youth to cauterize the wound caused by greed and pride.”

  “So you seek to embroil innocent people into your own conflict?”

  The canine seems to spit poison through his tone. I suppose my suave response spoke of ill will fvored with a puppet master’s narcissism.

  But I am both the puppet and the master.

  “Only those strong enough to survive it.”

  Yes. Only more and more people will fall prey to the Goddess of Death’s revenge, to the devil’s contracts of the Goddess of Victory. The upcoming struggle is inevitable and inescapable.

  But not uncontrolble.

  Opposing Magpie within the Sect may help dey human deaths, but that is only a temporary solution.

  I need a shadow py entertaining enough to pcate the angered Divinities.

  I need followers.

  I need to create Ouroboros.