The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 3: Gunjar's Final Word

After a few days of rest and quiet talk, Ginjo and Gunjar made a decision: they would strike again before returning to Pasar. If they left now, some companions might not return. But there were still at least two bakemono dens they hadn’t touched—and the deeper threat was still out there.

So they set out together—Ginjo, Gunjar, and their surviving allies. Sukh and Sentra came too, but stayed back as rearguard, setting up a watching post inside the canyon to guard the main party’s retreat. Or, if the main party didn’t return, they’d know what to do.

The assault began early, on a cave lay high on the southern cliffs. Inside, they met a strange and fearsome group of bakemono: lean and long-limbed, with faces like mangy cats or clever, hungry dogs. Their weapons were long spears with cruel barbs. Their laughter echoed off the walls—manic and mocking—and they fought as if indifferent as to whether it was them or their enemies who died.

The heroes surprised a group during a meal. Gunjar called down divine silence, and within moments the creatures were overwhelmed, tied up, and disarmed. The party crept past a sleeping chamber—rows of skeletal bakemono sprawled on mats—and burst into their chief’s hall.

The fight was fierce. The chief and his bodyguards fought with wild, high-pitched howls. Ginjo took a wound to the side. One of the monks nearly lost his arm. But when the chief fell, the others surrendered. Again, Gunjar insisted that these monsters should be allowed to surrender; the party bound them and began to regroup.

That’s when they heard the knocking.

From behind a wooden door came the noise—bakemono calling out, knocking, not hostile but persistent in claiming they needed to present an offering to the chief. Gunjar wanted to rest, to heal the injured. But the knocking continued, louder and louder. The party decided to ignore them, wait for silence, then make a break for the exit.

They followed this plan—but it soon fell apart.

They silently left the chief’s chamber and then crept through the hallway toward the entrance—and into an ambush. A group of bakemono with bows and crossbows stepped out of hidden alcoves and opened fire. At the same time, a squad of spear-wielders charged from a side room. Ginjo rushed the archers. Gunjar blocked the charge.

Both leaders held the line—but the hallway was narrow and chaotic. A few bakemono slipped past them and reached the center of the party.

Then came salvation.

Sentra and Sukh, sensing the delay, had entered the cave. They found the bakemono bowmen from behind, cut one down, and shouted to draw the rest. It worked. Ginjo seized the moment, rallying the others. “Move!” he shouted. “Get to the exit!”

They ran.

Sid, one of the monks, was caught in the flank and gored by a spear. He went down, bleeding out fast. Gunjar turned back, drove the bakemono off with a furious strike of his staff, and knelt beside his friend. His hands glowed gold. Sid stirred. He lived.

Gunjar pulled Sid to his feet and shoved him toward the exit, and stood before the final wave— three gaunt and slavering bakemono with axes and long spears. They saw Gunjar alone and wounded, and they struck. He stood his ground. He fell under them.

Ginjo led the retreat, fighting through the last bakemono to reach the mouth of the cave and usher the others out, with Sukh bringing up the rear. The canyon air hit them like wind on fire. As soon as they reached the air, the always unpredictable Sentra was gone—vanishing alone into the hills. “Let him go,” Irak, said, “the two-fold path always returns and if we stays on it, that’s where we will meet him.”

They regrouped at the base of the cliffs. Everyone had wounds. Some could barely walk.

Sukh looked around, then said, “Gunjar… I used to think he was just odd. But he never hurt anyone. He always walked toward danger. And now he's gone.”
He sheathed his blades. “Let’s get back to camp.”

---

The Jungle Trial

That was easier said than done. Gunjar had known the trails best. Sukh led them up and over the ridge, but they ended up in a swamp. They turned around, cut their way through a thicket, and found themselves in deep forest as the sun began to set.

They pushed on. Swords and parangs cut through hanging vines. Then Arif, one of the quiet monks, cried out—his sword caught on a strange, glossy vine. He tried to free it. The vine pulled back. Sticky. Elastic. Not a vine.

Spiders, the size of cats, dropped from the branches. One bit Arif on the neck before anyone rea
ched him. His friends cut it down, drove the other off. But Arif was shaking. The poison took him before they could stop it.

They didn’t find their old camp. Instead, they made a new one: a bare clearing beneath the stars. No fires. No tents. Some slept. Some just waited for dawn.

---

Return to Pasar

The next day, they followed the Rowche Valley trail and returned to Pasar.

Howzaa, last of the farmers, spoke first. “I’ll guard my village,” he said. “But I’m done with these caves. You’re welcome in my home, any time. But I won’t go back.”

The monks split.

• Bagus and Cahya were blunt. Ginjo was brave, but reckless. He chased glory, not balance. They were done.
• Sid, the one Gunjar had saved, quietly joined Sukh. “I don’t know why Gunjar fought the bakemono,” he said. “But I trust him. And if you’re going back, I will too.”
• Irak, a soft-spoken but fierce monk, pulled Ginjo aside. “There’s something darker in that canyon,” she said. “The others don’t see it. But I do. I believe in you.”

Sheng and Shek, the mercenaries, were loyal. Ginjo had saved them. And the Silk Guild still paid well. “Better than guarding caravans,” Shek grunted.

Ginjo and Sukh looked at what was left. They could lead this group. But they needed more than fighters.

They needed a mystic.

That’s when they met Pana.

A stranger from the west, he wore rough robes over fine armor. He was from the west, but did not adhere to the One Law, instead claiming to carry secret wisdom. Two silent acolytes followed him. He listened to Ginjo’s tale, nodded once, and smiled.

“I have seen mysteries that you may never see,” Pana said. “But I know evil when I see it. I’ve seen things like your bakemono before. Sometimes killing is the answer.”

And so he joined them.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 2: Helter-Skelter

After leaving the lair of the red-tusked bakemono, Gunjar and Ginjo had a new vantage point. From their height above the canyon floor, they spotted other cave mouths—higher, deeper, darker.

When they returned, they chose a new one to explore. Outside it, they found a broken shield and a scattering of copper yuan. The shield was split along the grain, its strap snapped clean through.

They stepped inside. Almost immediately, something felt wrong. The air pressed on them strangely, and the path twisted in ways that didn’t make sense. The deeper they went, the worse it got. Gunjar tried to map the tunnels, but after a few turns, he staggered and vomited.

Then came the light—dim and red, flickering against the cavern walls. They followed it, not sure why, until they found the source: a scuttle of dog-sized beetles, their swollen glands glowing around scythe-like mandibles.

The sight was horrific. But Ginjo didn’t flinch. He drew his sword and gave the word to advance.

Behind him came a half-dozen others—some local farmers, including Liu-Po, and a few monks trained in the sohei tradition. The farmers were unarmed or carried tools; they weren’t meant for battle. The monks moved with discipline, but this was something new.

The beetles were fierce. Their shells turned aside even clean strikes. And they were clever. Two climbed the cavern walls and dropped from above—straight onto Liu-Po. He screamed. They tore him apart before anyone could reach him.

Gunjar shouted a warning and called on his spirits. Ginjo cut down the beetle that killed Liu-Po. The others scattered, retreating into cracks and crevices.

The fight was over. But the cost had been too high.

Shaken, Gunjar declared the cave cursed and ordered a retreat. They gathered what was left of Liu-Po. Ginjo took the lead, lantern in hand.

The tunnels twisted again. It felt like they were being led downward. But then, ahead—daylight. A faint breeze. They walked faster.

At camp, they buried Liu-Po. Gunjar said a few words. No long speech. Just truth: Liu-Po had come when asked. He had held the line.

And now he was gone.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 1: "Other things . . ."

Dramatis Personae

Ginjo – A self-exiled warrior from the Zhou Empire. Level-headed and dependable, with a growing reputation as a local leader. Co-runs a Rowche tea shop in Pasar. Known for his cool command under pressure.

Gunjar – A white shaman from the Land of the Five Fires. Practices an older, spirit-driven tradition separate from the monastic Two-Fold Path. Merciful, mystical, and unsettlingly powerful when the spirits speak through him.

Sukh – A fellow exile from the Valley of the Five Fires. A rugged fighter and sometime rival to Gunjar. Though he declined to join the first temple raid, Sukh has stood by Ginjo since their joint investigation into the Black Flowers. He prefers action to ritual, and carries the weight of unspoken battles.

Sentra – A disciplined monk of the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path. Speaks little, observes much. Occasionally travels beyond monastery walls when duty demands. Respected by both peasants and monks.

Howzaa & Li Po – Rowche farmers turned reluctant adventurers. Survivors of the temple raid, now part of the expedition's vanguard.

Shek & Sheng – Former caravan guards, rescued from bakemono captivity. Now armed, armored, and loyal to Ginjo’s leadership.

---

Into the Caves

A few months had passed since the battle at the temple. Ginjo and Gunjar had returned to Pasar as quiet heroes, but it was the Rowche farmers who carried the most urgent news. The bakemono had not disappeared—they had multiplied.

At first, it was small things: tracks near burned ground, vanished animals, unearthed graves. Then came raids—on livestock, on carts, on lone travelers. The bakemono no longer acted as isolated bands but as a growing force. Their movements pointed to one place: a slot canyon, little more than a narrow tear in the hills, riddled with caves. Old farmers called it a place of ghosts—once a hermitage for monks, now twisted by something deeper and crueler. Dark tunnels leading to still darker places of disharmony, corruption, and discord. Or, as some would say, chaos.

Howzaa and Li Po, braver than most, followed the trails. What they saw—crude symbols, bones, flickering fires—was enough to send them back to Pasar, pale and resolute.

Ginjo and Gunjar answered the call. With the monks of the Two-Fold Path, they recruited a handful of warriors and volunteers, including Howzaa and Li Po. Their goal: not defense, but purification. They would strike into the canyon and root out the bakemono before their corruption spread any further.

They chose to enter through a low cavern mouth on the southern wall, half-hidden by vines and shadow. The air inside was still and damp. Within moments, the party encountered their first foes: half a dozen blue-green, pointy-eared bakemono, the same kind that had desecrated the temple. But this time, the heroes held the advantage—discipline, courage, and steel.

Ginjo led the charge. Gunjar invoked the spirits. The bakemono, caught off guard, were overwhelmed.

Deeper in, they found a cramped chamber made to resemble a throne room, pitiful in its pomp. A larger bakemono sat there, fanged and howling. He commanded his underlings to attack—only for Gunjar to step forward and deliver a scathing sermon, condemning them for their cruelty. The spirits answered. The air grew thick. The bakemono collapsed. Most would never rise again. But there were a few who rose and fled screaming, horrified by their own wickedness. 

The group pressed on, ascending narrow stairs and winding tunnels. The deeper they went, the stronger the resistance: larger bakemono, better-armed and less easily cowed. Still, Ginjo’s leadership held them together. Gunjar tended wounds with quiet devotion. And when they entered a prison chamber, they found survivors.

A wealthy silk merchant, his wife, and two guards. Captured on the road and held for ransom—or worse. The heroes escorted them to safety. The merchant, once returned to Pasar, offered Ginjo a generous reward through the Silk Guild.

His two guards, Shek and Sheng, outfitted with fresh gear, pledged their blades to the cause.

---

New Allies, New Plans

The battle had begun in earnest.

With evidence mounting of a large and organized bakemono presence, the party began assembling a broader force. The silk merchant’s influence helped. So did the quiet authority of the monks.

Sentra, a monk of the Two-Fold Path, and Sukh, the warrior from Gunjar’s homeland, agreed to join the next raid. Gwinch, an elder at the monastery, sent five additional sohei. In total, the expedition now
numbered a dozen fighters—sohei, caravaners, farmers, and four proven leaders.

They established a camp in the canyon—a central base from which to raid and regroup. They would strike in turns: one team would attack, the other defend the camp and tend the wounded.

The first strike had gone well.

But darker things lay deeper in the caves—and the bakemono had begun to organize.

Sentra and Sukh’s Sortie

Sukh had declined the temple raid—but he had never left the fight.

He’d been watching. Listening. The stories coming from the caves sounded worse than those from the Rowche ridgeline. So when Ginjo proposed a second sortie, Sukh agreed to lead it. He would go with Sentra, the quiet monk, who had once spoken of peace with a tone so cold it sounded like steel drawn from a scabbard.

They took with them a handful of sohei, plus several brave farmers. Their target: a narrow tunnel on the northern side of the canyon, half-hidden by brush and trees.

As they approached, it happened fast—a sudden rain of spears. Half a dozen small bakemono-- half-rat, half-dog, half-lizard-- dropped from the trees, shrieking and stabbing. One monk was run through and barely clung to life. Sentra charged into the fray, and swept two of the creatures aside with his staff. The ambushers fled into the underbrush, barking and hissing.

Sentra stabilized the wounded, wrapping their wounds with calm precision. He insisted the wounded be returned to camp immediately. 

That decision may have saved lives.

---

Sukh and Sentra returned hours later to a larger cavern mouth, higher on the canyon wall. The afternoon sun slanted into the opening. Inside, the light revealed ranks of severed heads, lined in niches carved into the stone. Human and bakemono, all grim trophies.

One niche was empty.

Sentra’s eyes narrowed. He had seen movement. A pig-nosed head, twitching ever so slightly—then gone. Behind the niche, he found a small tunnel. Throwing a torch inside, he glimpsed a parallel hallway, hidden behind the rows of skulls.

"They saw us first," Sentra muttered.
Sukh nodded. “Then we move fast.”

They charged into the main corridor, seeking an intercept point. They did not find the watcher—but they found four armed pig-faced bakemono.

The battle was sharp and fast. The creatures were tough but scattered. Sukh gutted two. Sentra crushed the windpipe of a third. The fourth tried to flee—but never made it to the tunnel.

They followed signs of habitation deeper in—and soon came upon the chief's lair.

He was bloated, bright red, with massive tusks jutting from his mouth like daggers. He sat in a heap of cushions and bones, surrounded by snarling bodyguards and several female bakemono.

The sohei and farmers squared off against the guards. Sukh pointed his blade at the chief.

The duel was brief, brutal, and strange. The chieftain fought with reckless strength—smashing, howling, lashing out blindly. But Sukh was patient. He waited, deflected, retreated. When the chief overcommitted, Sukh stepped in and struck low, then high—a clean kill.

The other bakemono panicked. Some tried to flee. None made it out.

The heroes looted the lair and returned to camp.

They had found one lair—but the canyon was full of mouths. And not all of them would be so clumsy.

Rowche Rumble

Pasar had grown quiet.

By the time Ginjo and Sukh returned to the Blue Water Wine Hall to investigate the Black Flower hideout, it had already been abandoned. Though there were clear signs of recent activity, nothing pointed to specific individuals, motives, or future plans. The trail had gone cold.

Ginjo: “We had chased Black Flower out of town so it was time to get paid. We met the farmers because we started a drug store.”

The “drug” Ginjo referred to was Rowche, a mild but addictive stimulant made from a grass native to the region. Brewed into a tea, Rowche was widely consumed in Pasar and neighboring settlements and exported both east and west on the Spice Road. The best strains came from the Rowche Valley, a fertile region about half a day’s journey east.

Ginjo: “The farmers asked us to get their jade leaf statue back from the bakemono. And we agreed to help them so the Rowche would keep coming—so we could sell it.”

According to the farmers, the bakemono—strange, twisted humanoids—had long troubled their valley, occasionally stealing chickens or goats. But recently, they had raided in force and taken something sacred: the Jade Leaf, a statue said to ensure the valley’s warm rains and gentle sunshine. The villagers believed this statue was the source of their prosperity.

The bakemono had holed up in an abandoned temple on the ridge above the valley.

Ginjo agreed to help—but Sukh declined. 

So Gin-jo made some inquiries and encountered Gunjar, a wandering white shaman from the far-off Land of the Five Fires. Gunjar had no interest in stimulants or trade—but the desecration of a temple roused his deep sense of spiritual justice.

So Ginjo and Gunjar set out for the Rowche Valley.

The villagers greeted them with quiet gratitude. Early the next morning, the two adventurers, joined by seven local farmers, began the climb up the mist-shrouded ridge. By noon, the mists had lifted, and the ruined temple’s peaked roof was visible above the canopy.

As they reached the forest’s edge, they heard guttural laughter. In the clearing below, they saw a dozen creatures—vaguely humanoid, but grotesquely distorted. Some were horned, others winged. Many had tails. Their ears and noses were oversized; their skin tinted shades of blue, green, and purple. Two of them, blindfolded, were engaged in a vicious stick-fight while the others cheered.

Gunjar stepped forward, calling on the spirits to transfix the largest of the creatures. His prayer was answered. As the leader stiffened in place, Ginjo led the farmers in a charge. The remaining bakemono were killed, and the paralyzed one was bound and dragged into the woods.

Inside the temple, they found more bakemono—just as disorganized, but more numerous. The initial assault was successful, but when the fighting spread, the inexperienced farmers faltered. Three were killed, and several others fled in panic. The bakemono pursued them, and only a few brave or lucky survivors remained with Gunjar and Ginjo.

On the upper floor, the bakemono were larger, better armed, and better organized. But they had not reckoned with the shaman’s fury. Gunjar delivered a blistering sermon, denouncing the bakemono for their violent ways. His words—terrible in their truth—struck many dead where they stood. Ginjo engaged the leader in single combat and killed him with his own hands.

With the enemy broken, the Jade Leaf was reclaimed.

That night, there was a subdued celebration in the village. Of the seven farmers who had gone to the ridge, only two returned with minor wounds:

• Howzaa, who had fled the main battle downstairs but later ambushed and killed one of the pursuing bakemono, claiming the creature’s weapon.
• Li Po, who had stayed near Ginjo during the fiercest fighting and learned what it meant to fight with courage.

In the days after the battle at the temple, Pasar returned to its usual rhythm. Barges came in from across the lake, heavy with fish and salted reeds. Traders from the mountains brought furs and Rowche; caravans from the east brought silk, glass, and gossip. At the city’s center, the market buzzed as always—with haggling, laughter, the slap of butcher knives on chopping blocks, and the sizzle of oil in blackened woks.

Ginjo returned to his shop near the canal, where tea smoke and Rowche steam curled into the humid air. Gunjar lingered at the lakeshore shrine, his hands never still—scratching symbols into the sand, watching the water for signs. Sukh watched from afar.

But something was wrong in the hills.

Howzaa and Li Po returned to the Rowche Valley as minor heroes. It was they who first brought the stories: of fresh tracks in the ash near the ruined temple; of livestock disappearing from high pastures; of torches seen flickering on distant ridgelines. The elders whispered of an old canyon, once a refuge of hermits, lined with caves carved into the sandstone by wind and centuries. A place where monks and pilgrims once sought wisdom… and where others went mad.

Now, it seemed, the caves had new inhabitants.

A shepherd found a pig-nosed corpse snagged in a ravine, torn by arrows and half-eaten by crows. A boy who followed goat tracks too far returned pale and trembling, claiming he saw "a man with lizard eyes and a voice like a drum." The rumors came slow, then faster, like the breath before a storm.

The bakemono had not scattered. They had gathered.

And so, one morning not long after the temple victory, Gunjar stood beside Ginjo in the dry light of dawn. Neither spoke. They were watching the far hills.

Somewhere beyond them was a canyon, and within it, a darkness worth facing.

Pasar and the Princes Episode 1 (You are the Ransom)

 While Tetsukichi stayed with his clansfolk, Beatriss, Naron, and Erlo joined Bangqiu, Kafka on their journey to Pasar. Along the way they met their friends Sir Crowler and Prince Slash who knew a shortcut to Pasar- the Gua-Sar caverns. Sir Crowler and Prince Slash were lively companions—with their affinity for animals, noble lineage, and large supply of fruit, there was never a dull moment, even though neither was much good at reading a map. They did find the Gua-Sar caverns, a series of twisting tunnels, flooded with viscous green water. There were strange voices in the air and strange hands in the water. Despite these challenges, the heroes emerged from cavern whole and found their way on to Pasar without incident. Gwinch was indeed happy and proud to meet his student who had disappeared so suddenly. He awarded Kafka the title of Master and asked him to assist a selection of novices in reaching the next milestone in their training—the wisdom that comes from experience.

During an earlier journey to Pasar, Prince Slash had attracted the attention of a beautiful woman named Jasmine and her sullen brother Lum. To his surprise, Prince Slash found that Jasmine and Lum had remained in Pasar and at least every day, he encountered at least one of them. Although Prince Slash protested to others that he hated Jasmine, he seemed to have trouble ignoring her and always smiled when he saw her. For his part, Lum showed consistent dislike for Prince Slash and his friends, barely acknowledging them; any polite words were accompanied by a heavy glare.

One day, however, Lum approached Prince Slash and his friends for help. Jasmine had been kidnapped! Although Prince Slash claimed that he was happy about this, Beatriss convinced him that regardless of his feelings about her, he had some duty to assist with her rescue if possible. And, according to Lum, little assistance was required. The bandits were demanding ransom, Lum had agreed to pay it. He requested the protection of an escort in going to meet the bandits. The friends—Prince Slash, Sir Crolower, Beatriss, and Bangqiu agreed to help. They would meet Lum the next morning.

Bangqiu wanted to help, but he was wary. He suggested that he and Beatriss should accompany the young princes in invisible form. This would give them an advantage if either Lum or the bandits had planned a deception.
Prince Slash did not fully understand the plan. When he and Sir Crowler met Lum the next morning, the first thing he did of note was explain that Beatriss was there too but invisibly. Sir Crowler contradicted him violently. Lum was uncomfortable, maybe less uncomfortable when Beatriss asked, still invisible, how far they had to travel to the bandits’ camp. He wanted to reassurance that Bangqiu was there, too.

That was strange. Strange enough that Beatriss and Bangqiu both became visible and demanded to know more. When pressed, Lum admitted that he couldn’t show them any ransom payment because he wasn’t carrying it. When pressed further, he admitted that they were the ransom payment. He was leading them into an ambush.

After some debate, the heroes decided to believe Lum’s claim that despite his deception, Jasmine really was in danger. Hearing that a man in blue robes was associated with this group, Bangqiu and Beatriss decided that they would ambush the ambusher. After making sure Lum understood that they considered him a traitor and that his life depended on helping them rescue Jasmine, they became invisible again.

When they arrived in the Black Flowers’ camp, the villains challenged Lum, demanding to know why he didn’t bring "the meddlers." The man in blue robes was there, but so was Jasmine, with a blade at her throat. Beatriss and Bangqiu surprised and overpowered the men threatening Jasmine, but before they could turn their attention to the man in blue robes, he disappeared in a flash of fire. The rest of the Black Flowers, having lost both their prisoner and their leader, were quickly routed.

Jasmine put the pieces together quickly and reveled a new one that explained Lum’s jealousy and betrayal. Lum and Jasmine were not brother and sister and neither was the child of a merchant. He was the son of a nobleman and she was a household servant. She understood his jealousy but he had taken it much too far. She wanted nothing more to do with him. Lum agreed this was fitting punishment.

Monk Rage

Ramakien Battle Mural, Wat Phra Kaew, Bangkok, a photo by Aidan McRae Thomson on Flickr.

The morning after Jiro was assassinated at the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path, The Founders’ Council announced that the Abbot was banished from the town of Pasar. The Council also banished the monk who made the initial attack. He did deserve execution not only because he did not harm Jiro, but also because he did not show a clear intent to do so, but was clearly manipulated by sorcery. Jiro death was the result not of one monk’s evil intent, but of the entire monastery’s mismanagement. The Abbot was responsible for the management of his monastery.

In protest, about half of the monks chose to banish themselves with the Abbot. As the monks prepared to leave the monastery they agreed that the Shining Path had caused them this dishonor. They should be punished. Gwinch and his sohei agreed to support them in breaking into and vandalizing the main temple of the Shining Path.

About 75 monks, marched through Pasar with long knives hidden beneath their robes and bows hidden in a cart of firewood. They convened near the Temple of the Shining Path and, finding the front gate hanging open and unguarded, charged into the courtyard with their weapons!

But the warrior monks of the Shining Path were ready and waiting. Archers shot them from the walls, and spearmen emerged from the temple, followed by about two dozen of the mercenaries commonly employed as Silk Merchant bodyguards.

The Two-Fold Path monks were less disciplined than those of Shining Path, and were guided by fury and revenge rather than well-conceived tactics. Many were shot with arrows, and when they broke ranks, killed by the well-organized Shining Path spearmen and battle-hardened mercenaries. Gwinch’s sohei, on the other hand, responded to the surprise attack with level-headed confidence. They escaped the courtyard into the Shining Path Temple. When the Shining-Path monk pursued them, Saisho suddenly appeared and with a magical blast of steam killed their leader and his lieutenants. At the death of their leader, many of the Shining Path monks and the mercenaries were put to flight. The remainder fought to the death.

Victorious, the Two-Fold Path monks began appropriating the Shining Path prayer banners, while Gwinch searched for evidence that they were responsible behind his own temple’s recent misfortunes. A letter on the body of the dead leader showed that someone had warned Shining Path that they were going to be attacked, and had offered both weapon and the mercenary support. But there was nothing to confirm that they had planned or caused the death of Jiro.

Demolition 5371 (exposed slats), a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

An old priest who lived at the temple castigated the Two-Fold Path monks for their violence and so they fled from the Shining Path temple and from the town of Pasar. Together with Gwinch and his own sohei, they rejoined the Abbot in the wilderness. The Abbott led them to a small, secret temple in the jungle which they began to expand and fortify. He told Gwinch that he should continue his quest to find Tempat Larang. Beyond fulfilling the Emperor’s orders to locate and apprehend Governor Goyat and General Kawabi, if Gwinch were to find the legendary lost capital-- from the time before the great divergence of the Paths to Enlightenment-- then he might begin to restore the honor of his monastery.