Melodia was pacing nervously within the modest shack. Her small black wings were alternating between stretching out and tucking against her back. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, as she shifted from arms akimbo, to folding them over her chest, to stroking her chin, to gesturing vaguely at the annoyances of the world around her.

“You’re gonna wear a trench in the floor,” Arvel muttered, watching her pace.

“How are you not more concerned about this?!” Melodia asked, stopping and spinning on her heel to face him.

Arvel’s brow furrowed, before a little grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and he said, “To be honest I just keep thinkin’ about the goofy lookin’ goblin.”

“Honestly!” Melodia shouted, gesturing in the air without direction or purpose, simply because she needed to animate her frustrations, “This is something you should be concerned about! Be more upset!”

“How does gettin’ upset help me?” Arvel asked, “It ain’t helpin’ you none! It sure as heck ain’t helpin’ your floor.”

Melodia shook her head and said, “If only you were as concerned about the future of Nathulan and your birthright as you are about my floor.”

Arvel stood up, his hands on the table, and said, “Hey, I care plenty about Nathulan! But this whole ‘birthright’ thing ain’t worth a hill of beans to me. I never asked my pa to be born under the Warrior Star or to inherit his weirdness, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have wished it on me if he could. And that’s probably exactly why he never told me where his armor or any ‘artifacts’ got stuck. Because he didn’t want to hang that burden on me.”

“That burden is already placed upon you,” Melodia replied, “Those who have power have an obligation to use it to protect those ‘what ain’t’, as you put it so eloquently.”

“Well if I don’t know where any of this mess is tucked away, how is anyone else supposed to find it?” Arvel asked.

“Plenty of people already know that it exists, and they might be looking for it!” she answered, “There are plenty who know what tools like that are capable of in the wrong hands, so when you’re thinking about that ‘goofy looking goblin’ in your father’s armor, maybe you should be thinking about the kind of havoc a goblin could wreak on human settlements. Especially ones they hold a grudge against.”

Arvel’s shoulders sagged as he asked, “Well what am I supposed to do about it? Start pullin’ up floorboards and tippin’ over rocks, tryin’ to see where pa might’ve hidden something?”

Melodia resumed her pacing, taping her chin softly with a sharp black nail, and said, “That might not be a bad place to start.”

“What, pullin’ up floorboards?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes!” she replied, “Your father could have even left his artifacts somewhere on the property. Perhaps buried somewhere... Even in his grave.”

“I’m the one what buried him,” Arvel said quietly, “I know what went with him. The locket with a curl of ma’s hair, the cup he always had his mornin’ tea in, and his whetstone. Not one dang thing to do with bein’ a knight.”

Melodia fell quiet, looking at Arvel for a moment. Her words caught behind her lips, uncertain what she should say. After a quiet pause, she resumed her pacing and said, “If he didn’t want to burden you with a future as a knight, he likely didn’t leave such artifacts lying around the farm, lest he welcome threats to your doorstep. That said, he might’ve left some kind of clue somewhere.”

Arvel stepped back from the table, and slid the stool back under it with his foot, saying, “I guess I ought to start lookin’, then.”

“I’ll help,” Melodia said, her glamor falling back over her with as much ease as one might put on a hat. But as she started for the door, Arvel lifted a hand to give her pause.

“I don’t think that’s a real good idea,” said Arvel, “Rain’s willin’ t’be civil, and I think Lunette would be too, but I got a feelin’ Fidget’ll attack on sight.”

Melodia’s eye twitched, and she said, “Well then muzzle the little beast.”

Arvel turned and glared sharply at her. Melodia flinched back from the intensity of his stare, her eyes wide in surprise.

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“Y’ain’t gonna say a thing like that again,” he said firmly, “Fidget ain’t a ‘beast’. She’s one of the most dedicated and reliable people I know. If there was one person I knew would walk through hellfire in oil-soaked breeches to stand next to me, it’d be her. Ain’t nobody else earned that kinda trust yet, least of all you.”

Again, Melodia’s words stalled, uncertain what to say. Sincerity was not her strong suit. But, she eventually murmured a quiet “I’m sorry.”

Arvel nodded, and stepped outside, wordlessly shutting the door behind him, leaving Melodia alone in her small house.

Arvel waited by the edge of the training field, watching Lunette and the militia training. She had pulled her long golden curls up into a high ponytail to keep it off of her neck, and wore a sleeveless tunic that hugged close at her curves, with no excess fabric to get caught up in her movements. As Lunette trained in the late-morning sunlight, her skin appeared bronze under the shimmer of sweat, and Arvel found himself getting lost while staring at her.

The militia she trained felt a lot different from when Arvel was working with them. They had proper spears now, and Lunette was leading them with military precision. They took more frequent breaks, but she worked them harder in between. On one of those breaks, Frederik excused himself to go and sit on the edge of the road next to Arvel. He obstinately maintained his foppish garb while training, including his fine cap and billowing sleeves, though they’d all become much more worn and dirty since they first began.

“Missing training with us?” Frederik asked with a small grin.

Arvel chuckled and replied, “Not really. Y’all were a pretty sad bunch when we started, and I whipped ya into shape as best I could, but it’s outta my hands now. Lunette’s got a lot more experience with this kinda thing... I was just runnin’ on instinct and pretendin’ I knew what I was doin’.”

At first, Frederik looked horrified by the revelation. But then he let out a heavy sigh and said, “Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

“Good enough for me,” Arvel replied. He watched Lunette a minute longer, before breaking the silence with a question: “Hey Freddy... You know much about my pa?”

“Sir Elediah?” Frederik asked, surprised, “Well, a bit, I’d say. I’m certain there’s much I could learn from you.”

“Yeah, you’d think that,” Arvel said quietly. He rested his folded arms on his knees and said, “That’s the rub. You know about ‘Sir Elediah’, the Immortal Knight. All I know is about my pa, and all the effort he put into keepin’ me away from that part of his life. He wasn’t proud of all the things y’all celebrate him for. Heck, I imagine the only reason he’d tolerate this lil settlement is because you named it after the fact he laid the gravel, and not the battles he fought on this soil.”

“You know the man,” Frederik said, “whereas I know only the legend. I would wager that what you know of your father is of far more importance to him than anything.”

“Probably so,” said Arvel, “I’m sure he’d prefer it this way, but it ain’t helpin’ me a whole lot right now. Y’see, I just heard my pa had all these ‘artifacts’, like armor and a shield ‘n all kind of powerful magical stuff that he used. I always thought it was a little silly that y’all were runnin’ around worshippin’ a guy just ‘cause he didn’t stay down when he got knocked down... now I gotta start thinkin’ about him in a real different light.”

“Well, it doesn’t surprise me at all!” Frederik replied, his spirits lifting. As much as the physical training exhausted him, nothing rejuvenated him quite like the opportunity to talk about history; “You see, most legendary figures have artifacts associated with them. They were not necessarily artifacts before they came into the legendary figure’s possession, but over time, these items gained legendary status because of their owners, or because of their role in important historic events.”

“So what’re we talkin’ about here?” Arvel asked, “A hat pin that gets called an ‘artifact’ because a fancy lady wore it when she did somethin’ important?”

“Not only that,” Frederik said, lifting his finger as he elucidated, “The hat pin would have to have some sort of magical power. Your father’s shield was known as the Wall of Natha, and the legend claimed that it could absorb any blow, no matter how powerful. Not even a charging bull striking his shield could cause him to stumble.”

“A thing like that really existed?” Arvel asked, surprised.

Frederik nodded with a smile and said, “Among many others. His mounted weapon of choice was a glaive that slew over a thousand demons before his horse fell. It had become imbued with so much power that it was able to summon a spectral steed to allow him to continue riding and fighting on. He wore a ring that contained magic spells, and though your father was no mage himself, he could call upon those spells in times of need. I do not know any of the legends of his armor myself, but if such a suit of plate could see him through his many battles, I’m certain that it must’ve been splendid.”

“And nobody knows what happened to any of them?” asked Arvel.

Frederik fell quiet, before looking at Arvel and asked, “You have no idea what he did with any of them?”

“How would I?!” Arvel asked, indignant, “I just told you I didn’t even know they existed before today! But it sure as heck sounds like they’re things that shouldn’t just be left layin’ around where anybody could stumble on ‘em.”

“I’m sure your father wouldn’t have been so careless with such powerful and dangerous artifacts!” Frederik said.

Arvel eyed Frederik suspiciously, his expression tense.

“What?” Frederik asked, “What’s that look for?”

“You knew the knight,” Arvel said, “I knew my pa. And one of my few memories of my ma is her yellin’ at him for leavin’ his tools down on the floor when I was just barely walkin’.”

The color drained from Frederik’s face.

“W-Well,” he stammered, “I’m sure he would’ve been more responsible with legendary artifacts than farmer’s tools.”

Arvel continued to stare at Frederik, flatly.

“Oh,” Frederik muttered, “Oh no...”