In the rise of the McAlister empire for firearm manufacturing, and in the despair of my mother's death, I found myself at Yared's desk with increasing frequency. In the noisy and ever-growing workshop, his office had always seemed to hold a quiet to it. A calm that made reading my many library books easy. The first time I found myself there, I was looking for a calm place to read. My father had told me to stay in the shop, or I would be in trouble. At Yared's office, I had seen a man with graying hair and steady eyes looking back at me.

"Hello little one," he had said, looking up from his work. Seeing the book in my hand, he had stood and offered me his chair, saying he preferred to stand for the moment.

He stood for the rest of the day.

When I had returned the following day, I found the door open. A small bench with a blanket and lantern were just inside the threshold. That was the way Yared had always been. At times, I would come to visit and he would show me the mechanics of a pistol. Other times, he would educate me on how gunpowder worked. He had tolerated my endless questions without any sign of irritation. It was such a contrast to the way my father had treated Levi and I growing up. My mother had always warned me to not bother my father while he was working. The consequences when I hadn't heeded her advice had always been steep.

But then there was Yared.

As I had grown, our conversations had grown in complexity. I could talk about almost anything with him.

My growing interest in healing.

My hatred for my father.

My frustration with the way Zachariah was treated, along with all halflings.

Those thoughts and more were all safe in Yared's walls. He had a singular talent for being a sounding board. He had never judged my thoughts. Not once.

Until one day.

"Yared, aren't you scared the McAlisters will go out of business?" I had asked, my small hand turning a page. I sat curled on my bench, a blanket wrapped around my legs. I was already planning on meeting Zachariah and Fayra in the Ethereal forest that evening by the time the words left my lips. My mind always seemed to bounce from topic to topic in an endless cycles. The Etheral forest trip had been Fayra's idea, of course. She had told me of the giant fox-like creature made entirely of light which roamed it. My heart had pressed against my ribs at the thought of the forbidden adventure.

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"Why would you think that, little one?" Yared's voice came, redirecting my thoughts to my question. I sat up, looking at him blankly until I remembered what I had asked.

"Well," I began hesitantly, toying with the spine of my book, "The war is over. Why do we still need weapons? People don't have to kill each other anymore."

An innocent question. A child's question.

Yared's hands stilled in their work, his back straightening for the first time in hours. A prickle went up my spine in his stillness, sensing I had errored in some way. I prepared for the yelling to start, still used to my father's tempers. The seconds crawled by like hours as Yared sat as still as a statue.

He extended a hand to a small picture frame on his desk, taking a clean cloth and wiping stray powder off the surface. I could see a younger Yared standing next to a beautiful young woman with ebony skin and hair. A young babe laid in her arms with tight and curly locks gathered over bright eyes.

Yared stroked the picture for long moments as he took a deep breath.

"Did I ever tell you that I fought in the war during it's twilight years?" Yared asked quietly, brushing a stained thumb alongside the woman and child's faces. I looked at the picture and then back to Yared, closing my book and gathering the blanket more tightly around myself.

"Yeah! You were a Lieutenant, right?" I asked warily, feeling a cold settle in my bones. Yared's face went blank as he nodded, eyes still locked on the picture. Eventually, he set it back on his desk, wiping the last of the dust off the frame.

"Yes, little one. I left my family to fight for a better world for them. A better life with freedom as the prize," he paused, his voice going thick. He coughed once into a handkerchief. Twice. When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal.

"When the war ended, it took me nearly four months to return home from across the country. That's where the last of the fighting was. I came home to find that some bandits had robbed my family days before I arrived. They..." he paused again, swallowing hard, "They robbed me of everything."

Another look at the picture.

"Everything."

Yared looked at me then, his eyes shining.

"No, little one. People will never stop needing weapons, because people will never stop fighting amongst themselves. Not until they reach the Far Shore."

Yared stood and enclosed my small hands in his. I sat, looking at him with wide eyes as I struggled to fully understand what he was talking about. An old wound reopened inside me as the meaning of his words hit, wearing at my soul. Yared's hands tightened slightly as my eyes began to burn.

"But you have to remember one thing as you grow and live your life, little one. There are good humans and bad humans. Good Elemancers, and bad ones. Whether a war is waging or not, that fact does not change."

Another sigh.

"Violence, and it's consequences. That is the lesson we never seem to learn."