The portal that had carried Shinsou into the reincarnated Dajas Pagoda winked out of existence behind him as he made his way forward towards the worn double doors of the first floor, gravel crunching beneath his leather boots with each step. A scent of surrounding overgrowth wafted along the fringe of the dilapidated courtyard, evaporating only with the last motes of damp coming from the paper walls of the dojo as he drew closer. As the Telgradian ran his right hand through his swept back chestnut hair, his senses detected the inevitable, familiar power of John Cromwell. Although he had not been in the right place to watch John walk into the first floor pagoda, Shinsou could now feel his overwhelming presence pulsating from within the heart of the building; the raw energy from the man presenting like waves of contractions in the spellsword’s gut.

Stood alone on the top step of the entrance, Shinsou gave some last consideration to the crumbling exterior, wondering if the real pagoda was even still standing. Small, spiked weeds stood to attention to the right of the door, and an outcrop of debris fallen from one of the upper floors shored up the corner of the steps to his left. Through a crack in the door ahead the Telgradian could see the famed giant knelt in a meditative state. His chassis was still a frightening thing to behold, and reared up reminded him of one of the iron colossus’s that guarded the Royal Palace back home, but John’s real power came from something much deeper than just his strength or size.

So does mine Shinsou resolved.

With no other reason to delay, Shinsou oriented himself and gently pushed open the door. Between the folding oak panels, the Telgradian walked with confidence, heels gently clicking on the dusty wooden floor as, without saying anything, he walked to the opposite side of the room and carefully mirrored John’s seiza. He could almost feel Cromwell’s gaze on him the whole way; almost tasting the anticipation John must of felt for another opening pre-emptive strike. Last time, Shinsou hadn’t bothered with exchanging pleasantries or offering the basic courtesy of a greeting to his opponent, instead concerning himself more with getting “to the point”. This time, though, he sat deliberately calmly in the unbridle shadows of the room, as if having forgotten the reason for their rendezvous.

“It’s been a while since I came to this place, at least the real version of it,” Shinsou started, casting his eyes about the degenerating interior, “I remember when it was really alive. The masters here were the old guard of the world as we know it; people who fought with nothing but heart and strength. Hell, the Dajas Pagoda might not even be standing anymore, for all I know. That would be something, wouldn't it? Something as remarkable as this and its legacy totally forgotten. Another “icon” of this world consigned to history. How, or even will, it be remembered, I wonder?”

A draft slipped down the leather interior of his boots as he knelt. Shinsou had grown to dislike rambling in the citadel, but for John Cromwell there were matters beneath the surface that started to bubble; matters that entangled the physical and the philosophical together in a complex web that needed to be understood.

“We touched upon this last time, but history is the judge of all of us,” The Telgradian gestured, “and I have been doing some thinking about how it will judge what I’ve done here, on Althanas. Me, Storm and the Brotherhood, the siege of Radasanth, Tylmerande, all of it. Do I regret what we did? No. We fought for what we believed in. But…”

The spellsword dropped his arms and cracked his neck.

“…It’s like I said in my letter. Between you and me, I am not so sure what the ‘truth’ is. Struggling for power, just for power’s sake, is a fool’s errand. We wanted to change the world for the better, and I think we still want to. But which way is the right way, John? With strength? With ideals? With ambition? That is the quandary.”

Shinsou wiped a sleeve across his eyes and mouth to cleanse some of the dust from the floor. “Of all the people I know, and have fought, you are the only one who ever made me question it all. There has to be a reason for that. You're also the only one who ever came close to beating me, and there's a reason for that, too."

As he stood up, the cool crunch and grind of his heels on the small stones on the wood echoed throughout.

"I know your strength, John. What I want to see is your fucking heart."