‘Is it always this messy?’ asked a bystander as he and a few others watched Yara fight a wyrm in the rain. The beach was slick with thick mud and clay and Yara was up to her knees in the stuff.

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ answered Githeon, ‘I’ve hardly ever been there to see it,’ he had to shout to make himself heard over the rain.

  The crowd all stood on a brick and mortar extension of the harbour that led onto the narrow beach. They could see the wyrm coil around its foe and flinching only moments later when Yara’s sword pierced its scaly hide. Even from the distance Githeon found himself he could see how Yara had become drenched in the downpour, with mud splotched over her gambeson and plate. Yara held fast however, and after luring the snake towards her she thrust forth her sword and pierced through one of the wyrm’s eyes. The beast let out a terrible howl of pain before its squirming body fell to the ground and sunk into the mud. Someone in the crowd of onlookers clapped once before realising that what they were doing was perhaps a little ridiculous and stopping. They all continued to watch as she pulled Skycleave from the serpent’s eye socket and wiped it off on her mud-caked gambeson. The mud now joined by deep red blood.

  A man rushed through the group of people and rudely bumped into Githeon as he made his way to the beach. His figure was stocky and not especially tall. The hard ocean winds blew off his hood and revealed a bald head, with a long grey beard that hung over his chest. Occasionally the wind blew his facial hair in his face, though eventually it became too logged with water from the rain to move about as much. The man plodded past Yara and through the mud until he reached the wyrm’s corpse. Yara looked back at him. The strange man started to, in the field and showered by cold rain water, dissect the dragon's corpse. She raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what he was trying to do. Githeon hailed her from the harbourside and helped her climb back onto the stone extension, after which they walked through the heavy rain and to a nearby pub.

  It was cosy inside. Warm orange light from the lanterns which lit the place, tables everywhere, with pubgoers at nearly every seat. Yara personally found this much better than the spring rainstorm raging outside. She sat down on one of the wooden chairs in the window side booths and immediately removed her helmet. Her head had been kept dry for the most part, barring a slight bit of mud that’d managed to worm its way through her visor and onto her face. Githeon joined her a little later after ordering them both something to drink. He took note of the mud immediately.

  ‘You got something on…’ Githeon gestured at his own face to point out where and Yara responded by wiping it away with her gloved hand, which, because it was also covered in mud, only left a bigger smear, ‘uh, nevermind,’ he opted not to say anything more and instead he put down the two tankards. Yara looked into hers and took note of the liquid inside. It wasn’t frothy like beer, instead the drink was a clear, fiery amber colour that had an appealing sweet aroma to it.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’ve never seen it before?’

  ‘Well I wouldn’t know if you won’t tell me, would I?’

  Githeon was going to object, but nodded and answered her question.

  ‘It’s an alcohol made from honey, miodh we call it here.’

  Yara moved the tankard and watched the drink inside slosh around as freely as any other would, 'I think I've heard of something similar from where I live,' she said, ‘but that’s not how honey moves.’

  ‘There’s a lot of water in it too, try it.’

  'I don't like watered-down drinks but here goes,' she put the tankard to her lips and took a small sip of the miodh, which she kept in her mouth to get a feel for the taste. It was more than what its sweet aroma had promised her, It had a distinct honey-like sugary taste that overwhelmed her at first, that wave was quickly followed by a hint of spice that tied the drink’s flavour together. It made her feel warm in the same way that brandy would. Githeon looked at her as she tasted the miodh.

  ‘And?’ he asked when she swallowed her first swig, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s… warm,’ said Yara, looking at her tankard, ‘I like it though, it’s good.’

  ‘It’s flavourful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mostly sweet, took me by surprise kind of,’ she said, putting down the mug at the same time. She began to remove her pauldrons to allow her to move more freely, ‘that man on the beach, do you know who he is?’ Yara asked.

  ‘You mean the one that bumped into me and kept walking without a word?’

  ‘That one, yeah.’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘He looked like he knew what he was doing with the wyrm’s body,’ said Yara as she looked at the sorry state of her armour. It hadn’t seen proper maintenance in weeks, if at all since she’d left Ashfallow’s Hold behind. Her own supplies had run out quickly and she’d simply forgotten to visit an armourer. She looked at Githeon, who was staring out the window and over the tumultuous waters of the Caolas Siorc. He took a swig of his own drink when the man they saw before walked past the window, preceded by the head of the wyrm he was carrying on his shoulder. As he continued it became increasingly more apparent that he wasn’t just bringing the head, he was dragging the entire corpse with him. Githeon swallowed his drink before he could spit it out.

  'I'm not imagining that, am I?' Yara asked.

  Githeon shook his head, ‘he’s definitely den Chlaíomh,’ he said as he watched the man shamble further down the street.

  ‘What could he even want with it?’ She wondered out loud, then half-remembered something about artificers collecting the kills of other Knights of Ash.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Githeon kept looking outside as he heard the sound of Yara getting up and dashing out the door, back into the torrential rain. She immediately went after the man, forgetting completely that she likely wouldn’t be able to understand a single word he was going to say.

  ‘Sir, I was wondering where you were taking that?’ she'd already spoken when she realised just how dumb it was of her to try.

  The man looked back at who called him, then dropped the lifeless dragon onto the ground with a loud thud, ‘does it matter?’ he asked with a husky voice.

  Yara didn’t have an answer for him, and he bent forward to pick up the wyrm again. It only dawned on her now that he’d answered her in Anglan, not Fiaighan, ‘wait you speak Anglan?

  ‘Yes? you're speaking it as well, aren't you?’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask the locals something,’ said Yara, ‘I’m looking for an armourer or artificer, could you tell me if there’s any nearby?’

  The man walked forward again, dragging the wyrm’s tail behind him. He sighed and looked back at Yara a second time, ‘Come on then, I should be able to help.’

* * *

  The rain had begun to subside when Yara and her new guide arrived at the shack he lived in. It was just outside of the village. The plot of land surrounding it had two larger buildings on it, one containing a workshop and another being his house. The man continued to drag the wyrm behind him until eventually he got to a small, open ended hut with a large table in the centre of the room. The wall behind it was lined with tools meant for cutting and dissecting, and another wall had shelves stacked with jars that were filled with varying materials ranging from organs to powder.

  He lifted the corpse onto the table and turned around, now that the dark clouds had given way to warm sunlight Yara could see his pale, milky eyes. He was completely blind.

  ‘You’ve got the luck of stumbling upon an artificer right when you need one,’ said the man, ‘the name’s Elric Den Chlaíomh.’

  He extended his hand and Yara grabbed it somewhat hesitantly. She'd never personally interacted with an artificer before, except maybe Arran if she counted him and his knowledge of Dragonforging weapons.

  ‘I was hoping you’d be willing to take a look- if you’d be willing to perform maintenance on my armour.’

  It seemed that Yara’s slip-up hadn’t gotten past Elric, who chuckled at the correction, ‘it depends,’ he said, ‘I don’t just take commissions on anything.’

  ‘I can find someone else, if you’d-.’

  ‘Present me with your sword,’ he said sternly, Yara wasn't quite sure where he was going with that, and when Elric didn't feel a sword being placed on his open hands he chuckled, 'I won't steal it, I hardly have reason to. If I really needed a sword I could make one myself.'

  Still hesitant Yara unsheathed Skycleave and carefully laid it on Elric's open palms. He inspected it carefully, checking its entire surface from pommel to tip, weighing it with his hands.

  ‘I knew the man who owned this, and considering he’s not the one standing before me now…’ he looked up and directly at Yara’s face, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thanks,’ answered Yara somewhat half-heartedly, a tight-lipped smile of discomfort on her face.. She knew he meant well, but at the same time it hurt to be reminded of why she was running away in the first place.

  ‘I’ll help you,’ he said after a short moment of deliberation and returning Skycleave to its owner, ‘providing me with this wyrm will most definitely help in the future.’

  ‘Do I need to pay you?’

  ‘No, not with pyrite anyhow.’

  Yara raised an eyebrow, 'I don't usually like that phrase.'

  Elric chuckled, 'not fond of propositions, are you,' he grinned, 'well I don't need anything like that, Death made sure of that. I only need you to track someone down for me and I'm sure you can do that just fine.'

  'Track down who?'

  'Does it really matter?' Elric asked, 'I can work on your armour right now if you go and get him for me. He came by a week ago with the same request and sent him off to kill a beast for me. He's not come back yet.'

  ‘You want me to go and bring him back?’

  ‘Bring him back?,’ scoffed Elric, ‘I’d much rather know whether he’s alive in the first place.’

  ‘So I see if he’s alive and you repair my armour,’ said Yara ‘where’d you send him?’

  ‘Not far from here,’ he pointed towards the foothills of the nearby mountain range, ‘I figured he’d be able to handle a manticore but he hasn’t come back yet.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Yara as she turned away. She could hear Elric shout “good luck” after her when she left his homestead behind.

* * *

  The first thing Yara decided to look out for was a human corpse, it was going to be the most probable result from such an encounter. Manticores were known for tearing everything apart, like a dog with new furniture. What Yara didn't fully understand was why there was one here of all places. They tended to stay in the south, where it was warmer. Talamh Fiaigh was all rain and cold, usually both at the same time. For a manticore to nest here was really quite strange. As she scanned the stone-scarred grassy hills she found no corpse however. Occasional wing-walking tracks from the nearby beast were everywhere, but not a human footprint in sight. Yara thought that perhaps he’d bailed on his quest when he saw the beast. A distant rattling of heavy chains was heard. Could've just been chains of course, but vaguely remembering an anecdote about Manticores making those sounds Yara chose to stay cautious.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The opening to a cavern appeared in a nearby hillside as Yara continued to ride over the rocky field. As she made her approach she could see someone sitting inside and beckoning her to get closer. The person that’d caught her attention was a man, likely somewhere in his late sixties. The top of his head was already starting to bald, and the rest of his face was long and clean-shaven.

  ‘Another ashen knight!’ he said with an elated tone when Yara dismounted her horse and entered the cave, ‘I thought I’d be stuck here for the rest of my life, however short that may have been.’

  ‘You recognise the symbol?’ Yara pointed at the barding on her saddle. The man responded by pointing over his shoulder with his thumb towards the shredded remains of a horse, with tattered old barding strewn about around it. On it was the gold and grey wyvern Yara could recognise anywhere, or whatever remained of it anyhow. The man before Yara was a fellow member of the Knights of Ash, though he wasn’t anyone she immediately recognised.

  I thought Talamh Fiaigh would be nice and calm for retirement,’ he said, ‘I definitely learned my lesson.'

  ‘I don’t remember ever seeing you at the Hold.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I’ve been there recently,’ said the man, ‘what’s your name, if I may ask?’

  ‘Yara Stormcleaver.’

  ‘Oh! You’re Arran’s girl!’ he said excitedly, ‘I’m surprised he never told you about me, the name’s Thalan I should add.’

  'Yup... that's me,' she replied quietly. Her face looked a little sheepish. She wasn't sure about how she felt, meeting another person who'd known Arran for longer than her, 'nice to meet you.'

  ‘How’s the old runaway doing anyhow, is he here too?’ asked Thalan, ‘did he ever find his beast?’

  ‘That he did…’ Yara went quiet. Thalan’s was likely better adapted socially, as he immediately understood what she meant.

  ‘Oh no, oh dear, I’m sorry for bringing up any painful memories,’ he looked away and quickly tried to change the topic, ‘is there a reason you came looking for me?’

  ‘Elric asked me to come get you,’ answered Yara, who appreciated that he didn’t linger on what they talked about before, ‘You owe him I think? He didn’t make it clear he only told me to find you,’ she looked at him again, his armour was in shambles and it was a wonder he could still wear it, ‘Why’d you come here?’

  ‘He told me to get rid of the manticore.’

  ‘In return for repairing your armour?’

  ‘Precisely that.’

  ‘So shouldn’t we get to that?’

  ‘And risk getting stung?’ Thalan scoffed, ‘You’d have more luck killing the Loch Serpents.’

  Yara laughed to herself.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Thalan didn't quite understand.

  ‘Well it seems I do have more luck than you,’ she said, ‘I did kill one of them.'

  Thalan thought she was joking at first, but when he realised she wasn't his eyes widened.

  ‘You’re serious?’

  Yara nodded, she could see he was impressed.

  ‘Well, I’d rather still not risk it, you might have that luck but I don’t.’

  Yara looked outside, still the distant sound of chains rattling was carried by the wind that blew past the cave’s opening.

  ‘So what do you propose we do then?’

  ‘Can your horse carry two people?’

  Yara stood up, walked to Helena and pet the horse’s head.

  ‘Helena? I’m sure she can.’

  Thalan stood up and walked towards Yara and her horse, he looked the animal up and down.

  ‘Are you actually sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, it’s not like someone with an extra racing stallion will show up anytime soon, climb on,’ said Yara, she stood ready to boost the older man up into the saddle. Thalan sighed but gladly took the help, Yara then climbed into the saddle after him. He was about to hold onto her when Yara threw him a look that could kill.

  ‘Don’t. just please grab the saddle instead,’ she said as she continued to shoot daggers at him, ‘and hold onto it tightly.’

  Thalan nodded and Yara bent forward over her horse’s neck. She whispered something to Helena and suddenly they were off. They darted over the field and past the rocky outcrops that stuck out of the landscape, back towards the treeline below the hills. Between the trees and down the foothills until eventually Yara knew they were far away enough from where the manticore was prowling, the sound of rattling chains was all but gone now.

  ‘I appreciate that you brought me with you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Yara as they approached Elric’s small complex of sheds. The artificer was hard at work skinning the wyrm he’d dragged home earlier that very day. Githeon had arrived there as well, it was likely he’d begun to look for Yara after she’d just ran off to follow Elric. Yara got off her horse and helped Thalan down as well before she presented him to Elric.

  ‘One missing Knight of Ash, per your request,’ she thought about doing a mock bow but realised in time how stupid it’d make her look.

  ‘Excellent work, and the manticore?’

  ‘Still there, why?’

  ‘Well I thought you’d get rid of it for me, you looked much more competent than him.’

  ‘Do I st-.’

  ‘No,’ Elric cut her off, ‘It’s fine I was just messing with you,' his eyes flicked back and forth between Yara and Thalan, despite the fact that he couldn't see, ‘you two work for the same group I presume?’ he said, 'the swords made me think so, most people don't carry dragonforged black steel around.'

  Yara and Thalan both nodded, incidentally also both feeling like complete idiots after the fact. Elric began to inspect the armour they were wearing.

  ‘Well, after I’m done there won’t be enough for two sets, that’s for sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Yara in a slightly fearful tone.

  ‘His is too damaged, he’ll be lucky if I manage to repair even one part.’

  Yara looked at Thalan, who had put his hands at his hips.

  ‘Figured as much,’ he sighed, his gaze turned downwards, ‘Well I said I retired, there’s no need to fix it,’ he walked towards the workbench that had what remained of his armour on it and picked up a pauldron. An image of a coiling wyrm had been stamped into the metal. Thalan closed his eyes.

  ‘I thought I’d get it restored as a keepsake, now it’s in a worse state than it was before,’ he opened his eyes and rubbed his thumbs over the metal.

  ‘Some of the leather on yours is also shot, and tanning a whole hide for just some straps would be quite the waste,’ said Elric to Yara, ‘If it’s okay with both of you I could make do by using one another’s armour for parts to create one set.’

  Yara and Thalan looked at each other, the old knight sighed and nodded, while Yara wasn’t quite sure.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked Thalan.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, I won’t be using it anymore.’

  Taking that as enough confirmation Yara started to painstakingly remove her armour.

* * *

  Yara enjoyed being able to move a little more freely than normal as she waited for Elric to finish his work. She sat at the small stream that passed by his workshop and tended to her sword, the black steel sang every time she ran her whetstone over its edges. Yara could hear Thalan approach, and he asked her if he could sit down next to her. She nodded and Thalan got down on the ground. They sat quietly as Yara focused on what she was doing, her eyes trained on the edge of her sword.

  ‘That’s skycleave, isn’t it?’ Thalan said to break the silence, Yara nodded in response, ‘now that’s a sword with history.’

  ‘That it certainly has,’ another tight-lipped smile on Yara's face, she really didn't want to talk about this

  'I'm assuming you know who it came from.'

  'bit hard not to.'

  'I remember Arran using it during the Daelvor war. I knew him then when we were both in the king's own guard. Did he ever tell you about that?'

  'No, not really. He hated the war, would've hated what Valos is doing now,' Yara replied, 'I don't think I ever disagreed with Arran on that.'

  Thalan watched Yara sharpen the sword again, 'I'm certain that he's proud you're taking such good care of it,' he subtly pointed to the weapon, as if Yara didn't know what he was talking about. He got no response this time around, instead she simply continued with what she was doing. She heard Thalan fiddle with something made of metal.

  ‘I asked Elric to keep my pauldrons in-tact, the emblem on them was something I wanted to keep when I originally asked him to restore my armour,’ he said as he ran his thumbs over one of the pauldrons, ‘he did them first and looking at them now, it didn’t feel right to take them home anymore.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Yara, she stopped sharpening Skycleave’s edge and turned her head slightly. She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes

  ‘All they’d do is sit on a table and gather dust, I’m already too old to shine them all the time,’ Thalan laughed, ‘this past week has taught me that my time doing this is over, but you’re still going,’ he extended his hand and subsequently the pauldron to Yara, who looked at it and then at his face.

  'I can't take these.'

  ‘You’ll get a lot more use out of these than I will, take it.’

  Yara put down the whetstone and laid Skycleave on the ground next to her, then accepted what Thalan was gifting her.

  ‘What’s the serpent about?’

  ‘It’s a wyrm, I was gifted these pauldrons by the lord of house Draehal.’

  That was a name Yara didn’t want to hear. Technically it was hers, Arran adopted her, but she hated it just like he had. She chose to stomach it instead of telling him to stop talking, these were important to him.

  ‘I was knighted in the name of that house before becoming a Knight of Ash.’

  ‘Are you sure you want me to take this?’ asked Yara, ‘they're yours. For your achievements, not mine.’

  ‘All the more reason to let you have it, there’s not any point in letting it rust in some old man’s house. These should be worn into battle,’ he stopped to deliberate for a second, 'but I understand if you'd prefer your own. They're what you're used to, anyway.'

  'I still really appreciate your offer,' Yara replied, staring at the serpentine emblem on the pauldron

  'Lost my sword in that cave too... I think Arran made it for me back in the day.'

  ‘I can go back and get it for you, if you'd like.'

  ‘No, leave it,’ Thalan politely declined, ‘some adventurer will find it in the future and take it home, they'll take better care of it than I can now.’

  Yara returned to sharpening her sword, and Thalan continued to sit next to her for another good while, though he eventually got up.

  ‘I should really be going,’ he said, ‘give Elric my regards.’

  'Good luck, Thalan,' Yara waved him goodbye before she focused herself again. All she needed to do now was wait for her host to finish his work.