If Acdepin was a cursed black gemstone on the Sawtooth Crown, Avalanşă was the ominous ivory. Acdepin could survive in the treacherous mountains due to its cunning, while Avalanşă was cold and determined. The Devora people regarded themselves as descendants of wolves, but they were ashamed to call themselves that in front of the Avalanşăs. As early as the era of King Demnitate, his most loyal guard regiment was composed entirely of warriors from Avalanşă Mountain. Failing to protect the "Dignity King" from assassination forever nailed the Avalanşă people to the pillar of shame in their hearts, and since then, they and the Acdepin clan, who were allegedly the true culprits of the regicide, have developed a long-standing hatred. For hundreds of years, on every stormy night, the guarding warriors with their blue and yellow eyes inherited from the wolves stared at the shining Acdepin in the darkness on the other side of the wind and snow.
Perhaps it was the freezing mist that froze their beards, or the reluctance to lose heat from their mouths, the people of Avalanşă seldom spoke, leaving outsiders to guess their thoughts from their actions. Despite this, even young Vasili could feel that as a hostage of the Acdepin, he was unwelcome there. The people of Avalanşă did not allow him into the city and placed him in a dilapidated house near the abandoned logging site. At least they gave him the treatment a hostage deserved – nothing except for life-saving supplies – and sent an unsmiling old man to monitor his every move.
At first, Vasili simply found the old man annoying and ignored him. It wasn't until several months later that he learned the old man's name was Stenka.
Stenka had a long face like a large slab of rock, with marks left by time on it, including two chisel marks - his always narrowed eyes. Short and messy gray hairs grew on the rock, like frostbitten thistles. And his dry lips were always tightly pursed, with the tip of his upper lip curved downwards like a hawk's beak. No matter how cold it was, he only wore a tunic, and Vasili never saw him wear a wolf's fur outside of it.
In Avalanşă, Vasili could not fight soldiers at will. So when the day broke, he would leave his small house and come to the old logging site behind it, pulling out the precious jewel-encrusted short sword he wore before leaving home and swinging it wildly at the dead tree stump to vent his confinement and boredom. And during the entire time, no matter how ridiculous his swordsmanship was or how rough his skills were, Stenka would stand by and watch with his arms crossed.
Until the fifth month in Avalanşă, on a beautiful spring day, with a crisp breaking sound and a heavy thud, Vasili's delicate sword broke into several pieces.
For several days, Vasili could only lie on his bed, looking at the low ceiling. Until a Devoran falx appeared where his sword used to hang. Vasili picked up the reverse blade; the slender blade was curved like a new moon, resembling a Mantikhorian curved knife at first glance, but the cut was on the concave side, therefore, the way to grip it is like holding a scythe.
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Devoran warriors used this unique weapon to cross the Etnans’ square shields and cut off their heads. Back when Vasili was still in Acdepin, holding a wooden sword, he always watched the warriors taking the oath, raising their reverse blades high, as if they could pierce the heavens.
Vasili looked to the side and saw Stenka sitting on a bench by the door, his hands folded and dozing off. He knew that only he and Stenka would come to this small hut. Since then, their relationship has changed. When practicing swordsmanship, Stenka no longer stood far away on the ridgeline, but sat close on a stump. He would even correct Vasili's movements and demonstrate them to him. At first, Vasili, who was proud and haughty, was annoyed.
"What even are you?" he couldn't help but ask once.
"Just an ordinary soldier," Stenka replied shortly, as his face darkening.
Another time, Vasili couldn't grasp the posture of two-handing a sword and vented his anger on Stenka, even demanding a duel with him. To his surprise, the old butler agreed. Stenka fought empty-handed and made Vasili charge over. As a result, Vasili lay in bed for a few days.
"Vasili, do you know what it means to be a warrior?" Stenka sat beside the sickbed, his hands folded, and said sternly, "I have seen people fight with only one hand when the other is cut off. I have seen warriors pull out their eyeballs that fell out of their eye sockets with their own hands. I have even seen people, with their chin shaved off, fight until they fall down. Those who lie in bed are not warriors but a burden."
"I am a warrior, not a burden," Vasili said weakly.
"Accept it, Vasili, you're not cut out to be a wolf," Stenka said, then stepped out of the room and sat on a tree stump, with both hands on the pommel of the falx planted in the ground. He furrowed his rock-like brows and pursed his lips tightly. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the partially open door being blown by the wind. He looked up, his expression mixed with surprise, indignation, a barely concealed disappointment, and a hint of relief.
"You foolish wolf cub, you don't have to go down this path," Stenka said without looking back. "This is not a noble path. You started fighting for your ideals, then for money and fame, and later just to preserve your life, but in the end, the last fight is only for the remaining dignity. Your skills become more and more deadly, but what you can protect becomes less and less. People do not become tough because they have nothing, it's just that the toughest warriors are often those who have nothing left."
"Then tell me, which path should I take?" Vasili trembled as he answered, "I can't be the head of the family, nor am I favored by my father. Tell me, what should I do?"
"Put down your weapons, put down your noble title, and become a farmer or shepherd, live the rest of your life in anonymity." Hearing Vasili's footsteps approaching, Stenka stood up, held the knife handle tightly, and said, "But if you insist on becoming a wolf, someone has to teach you how to fight like one."
Before the blade could pierce him, Stenka turned around in time and blocked the cold blade with a clear clang. This sound became the prelude to countless sword fights in the years to come.