“How are we going to carry all this?” Ash asked, looking at the heavy boxes and long tubes, paying special attention to the iron chest with a big lock in which the arrows were stored. Enchanted arrows with adamantium tips were the dream of any hunter and archer. They could break through heavy armor and demon scales. It was probably the best thing to have on your travel. If you could afford such a luxury, that is. Rare were units, let alone individuals, who could brag about owning such a thing.

“You’re a mage,” Blackbeard responded and mounted his horse. “Think a little.”

Ash stroked his imaginary beard, considered the situation, and struck the cobblestone with his staff. The boxes rose into the air and floated to Blackbeard, stopping a foot away from him.

The shield-bearer, although obviously surprised, said nothing. Even the most experienced mages had issues with such spells and Ash had done it like it was nothing! Blackbeard had lived long enough to know when people were keeping secrets away from him, but also when it was for the best not to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. People were right, ignorance was bliss sometimes.

The two rode out of the elven quarter, leaving behind the lovely ladies and their magical homes. Their next stop was the butcher’s. Food could be bought from the trolls, too. Their stuff was better but it was also more expensive, so they had to choose between good grub or good arrows. The Stumps had made their choice without consulting Ash, who had a different opinion. That was probably why they had “forgotten” to ask him.

“Sit here,” Blackbeard instructed, tying his horse to the rack. “Keep an eye on our stuff.”

Ash gave him a mock salute and plopped down on the bench. Rolling his eyes, he focused on the boxes, tubes, and chest floating in the air.

Blackbeard, hoping that the mage would stay put, entered the store. Ash became bored as soon as the shield-bearer left his sight. He wondered what Blackbeard would buy, and what kind of person would be dumb enough to try to steal things floating in the air that clearly belonged to an experienced mage. No one wanted to mess with them.

“We got you, Ash! Surrender!”

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Three people appeared next to him, two girls and one plump boy with rosy cheeks and a kind smile. The kids were probably seven or six years old.

“I give up!” Ash exclaimed.

The children smiled and the boy tossed his head back in triumph. But before he could say anything, Ash grabbed him and began tickling him. “The great and terrible Ash shall eat the little hero!”

“Noooo!” the boy cried, dropping his wooden sword. “A terrible beast is torturing me! Save me, oh, faithful companions!”

The girl with pigtails grabbed the sword that had fallen to the ground and smacked Ash’s knee. The mage yelped and dropped the still-laughing boy. The little one stepped on his foot and ran away with his friends. Once they were far enough, the three heroes turned around and stuck out their tongues at him.

“You’ll never catch us alive!” they shouted and started running, laughing as they maneuvered between the adults, who looked rather annoyed by both theirs and Ash’s behavior. But the young mage didn’t care. He was having fun.

“Oh, I will get you!” he shouted back and started running.

Sometimes, he’d catch up to one of them and start tickling them. The other two, seeing that their friend had been captured by the evil monster would rush to Ash and start kicking him in the shins, making him drop his prey and begin the chase anew.

The children were laughing. His eyes, for the first time in a long while, shone with genuine happiness and joy. Running through the streets without a care in the world... What could be better than that? Well, he wouldn’t complain if he had a lovely lady running after him... A man could dream.

Catching the girl with the pigtails, Ash froze. On the corner of the street sat a woman, wrapped head to toe in a tattered cloak. By her feet was a tin can with a couple of coppers in it. It was a pitiful sight, but something kept him from looking away. He kept staring at her, unsure of what was happening. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s face in the puddle before it was disturbed by someone’s boot.

He knew that face.

Ash remembered the beautiful girl who turned into a decrepit old woman over the course of ten years. Through the wrinkles and rotten skin, he could still see the outline of the scar left by a gauntlet.

His chest was aching and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Long ago, that face had been hidden by a hood. He remembered children running away and a merchant standing still and watching.

“Hey!” someone shouted, snapping him out of it.

“Sorry!” Ash said, noticing the disgruntled Blackbeard tying several bundles to his saddle. Guido walked over to his friend and sniffed him nervously.

“I know you’re still a kid, but you need to stop playing games while we’re on a mission.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash repeated, mounting his horse.

“By the Heavens,” the shield-bearer muttered and turned his horse around. “Let’s go to the tavern before those bastards drink all of the ale.”

Ash kept looking behind him until the beggar’s figure was out of his sight.