After a fairly unpleasant night, it was time to endure an equally unpleasant day. Derian had invited me to see his showcase – and I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to scout his home in more detail. While Cali might have seen my preparations as entirely redundant, good preparation was what separated a living rogue from a dead one. Being able to kill me was approaching the point of impossibility for your average town guard, but being a wanted man wasn’t going to be fun regardless. I did not want to have to live out in the wilderness because I didn’t do my due diligence and find my target first.
Cali would be a bad rogue. Not only did she not understand how to prepare, but she was completely incapable of keeping other people’s secrets. She had somehow refrained from spilling anything about Stigma, but there were a few close calls where I had to step in.
For the sake of fitting in with the usual crowd, I removed even more of my equipment for the second visit. The other guests wouldn’t be happy seeing an armed man following them around. Paranoia was as natural as breathing to them, though in this case they were right to be. I was very good at picking pockets. I left Stigma with Cali and Tahar – their capable hands more than enough to protect it from whomever was present at the inn. Cali did not want to come along for the trip, so I asked them both to stay behind.
It wasn’t going to be an exciting job. I’d humour Derian for a few hours and try to pry some more information out of him. When I arrived at the gates of his manor, a small congregation of other people were already waiting out front. A butler was waiting. As I approached, he waved me over and asked, “What is your name, sir?”
“Ren.”
He checked the list he held in one hand and nodded, “Ah. A special invitation from Master Rivers. Please wait here until the tour begins.” My casual dress was already earning me a few strange looks. One of the attendees commented that there were ‘a lot of strange people’ visiting the exhibitions recently. I suppose that could be the case if you thought that every person wearing normal clothes was strange.
The gates were opened a few minutes later. A miserable parade of visitors filing through in a long line. There were thirty or forty people in attendance, so many that I couldn’t see who was standing at the front. Derian was nowhere to be seen. Given his enthusiasm for the art, I thought he’d be the first one to greet us. This belief continued all the way until we were actually shown through the doors of the exhibition building.
Schmoozing with him would have to wait. The crowd dispersed between the aisles and started to explore the full breadth of what Derian had collected. This showroom was much roomier and well organised than the one by the lake. The armour and weapons were contained within neat glass and wood cases that prevent sticky fingers from stealing a souvenir or two. The floor was tiled with a black and white checkerboard pattern, and large windows on each wall allowed lots of natural light inside. This place was nicer than most houses – and he was using it to store his armoury.
The first challenge was appearing interested in what was going on. The other visitors had broken away into their respective groups, chatting happily about the history and context of each display in a flurry of dates, names and battles to which I was completely ignorant. I stared blankly at some of the strange designs and tried to guess how much they were worth. Again, I was no military otaku. The only value I saw in them was the instant gratification of seeing something that looked interesting.
There were a lot of interesting armour designs, but nothing more radical than what I had seen in his private collection. There was no sign of his new acquisition. Whether he intended to keep it to himself or make it the centrepiece of a new display remained to be seen. He may not have lived long enough to see any use out of it. I was really on the lookout for the cursed item, not that I expected it to be in the public showroom. But people have a way of doing extremely stupid things, so it wasn’t impossible.
As I rounded one of the elongated displays, I came across the last possible thing I expected to see. Much to my personal misfortune, it was not the cursed item I sought. Standing close to the glass with a focused stare was Sakura – the legendary sword wielder who tried to murder me and steal my shit as I was getting out of Blackwake. How I hadn’t noticed her before that moment eluded me. She must have been hiding in the middle of the group as we were walking up. I swung back around and hid out of sight. She wasn’t armed for security reasons, but I knew she’d cause a damn scene if we met each other again. She knew who I was. I may have also shot a spike through one of her hands using Stigma’s magic.
All it would take was one convincing show of fear to blow up my entire plan. Luckily for me, Sakura wasn’t an experienced thief. The safest place for me to be was somewhere I could see her. The long aisles and harsh ninety-degree corners meant that if we lost each other, she could easily sneak up on me.
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Why the hell is she here?
It didn’t make sense. Obviously, my attempts to send her back to her parents had failed. I expected that much. People her age didn’t care too much for listening. Once she got the idea in her head that she was being coddled by them, it was over. No amount of pain was going to change her mind. But on a smaller scale I didn’t understand why she was attending this exhibition. I could see her lips moving. She’d stare at each item for some time before moving on to the next. I observed this behaviour for nearly twenty minutes. I didn’t believe for one second that she was really interested in the displays.
All of my problems loved to coalesce around the same point, because I could hear them talking across the way about Derian making his grand debut and speaking with some of the guests. I needed to get over to him and make myself familiar, but letting Sakura out of my sight was a terrible idea. She wasn’t armed, but the accusations she could make about my real character would cause a headache. Sakura was busy inspecting a rack of antique spears when I heard Derian speak from behind me.
“Oh, Ren. I see you took me up on my offer!”
Sakura didn’t hear him. I turned my back to her and faced Derian with a strained smile; “Of course - It’d be rude to turn down an invitation like this.” He’d wandered the floor and found me at the worst possible time.
“I’m very glad you accepted. I see that you’re admiring this Sorona Broadsword! This is one of my personal favourites; though to be truthful, asking me to pick a favourite item would be like asking a parent to choose their favourite child.”
I was getting increasingly nervous about Sakura turning around and spotting me. I stepped back into the middle of the aisle in a mock attempt to appreciate the sword from a further distance, but it also gave me the chance to keep her in eyeshot. She was still too engrossed in looking at each item to notice me.
I snapped back to attention and offered some scant small talk, “Do you have any family, Sir Rivers?”
“Not at the moment. I was betrothed to a lovely lady from the Fletcher family – but she unfortunately passed away in the skarn outbreak a few years ago. I haven’t yet made alternate arrangements. Poor girl, her family was devastated by the news.”
Skarn; the infectious disease, not the rock.
I nodded, “Terrible. Some good friends of mine died thanks to it too.”
Not really. But it was impossible to ignore the impact of it. Thousands of people were left with life changing injuries. I wasn’t certain what type of disease it really was – this world had a semi-developed understanding of how they spread, potentially thanks to people from my world sharing their knowledge. Some diseases and concepts had identical names, while others had already been named. Skarn was one of those diseases.
Derian continued undeterred, “My father’s still alive and well, though we haven’t spoken for some time as he lives in Sull.”
“Can’t send messages across the border.”
“That’s right. You can if you’re willing to pay extra, but I’d rather not have my personal correspondence be read by some nosy military officer, thank you very much.”
While he was getting ahead of himself, I was sneaking another glance at Sakura. There was still no change, and she continued to focus on her inspection. There was no doubt that she would recognize me if she saw my face. She leaned in closer to the glass and mumbled something to herself. A moment later she took a step back, pulled back her fist, and punched it with as much force as she could muster. A loud shattering rang out through the hall as her hand travelled straight through the thin display glass. Cutting herself was not a concern on her mind.
Now I really wanted to know what she was doing.
Derian ran past me, yelling obscenities and demanding that she stop. Several faces peered around the corners to have a look at what was causing all of the commotion. That turned into a sense of fear as Sakura retrieved a small hand-axe from one of the racks. She turned to face Derian, who skidded to a halt and held up his hands in surrender.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a crack in his voice, “Put that back right this instant!”
Sakura didn’t say a word. I ducked out of the way before she saw me hiding behind Derian. There were no armed guards in the building to stop her. One of the attendants quickly ran for the exit so that he could call for the watchmen. Unlike most crimes, they wouldn’t ignore an offence committed on the property of a noble.
Sensing that Sakura wasn’t going to provide an explanation or follow his orders, Derian discovered that there was an axe-wielding maniac in front of him. He turned tail and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The rest of the guests followed suit. Screaming and yelling as they fought to get through the doors first. I had no idea how to handle this.
I stepped out in front of Sakura as she approached my hiding place; “I thought I told you to go home, Sakura.”
She scowled, “Why would I listen to you? You’re just trying to stop me from achieving my destiny.”
“And what would that be?”
“I’m not sure just yet. But I’m sure it’ll have something to do with saving the world.”
We stared each other down. If Sakura didn’t get smart and run soon, the guards would be on top of her. She showed no signs of being in a hurry. If anything, she was relishing the opportunity to see me again. Her free hand pointed, finger wagging; “You know, this is the third time we’ve met. The first time as friends, the second as enemies, this time things will be different.”
“Why do you reckon that?”
She laughed, “Every hero needs to lose a fight to their rival once or twice. That’s narrative writing one-oh-one. It makes perfect sense to me. You’re my nemesis. Alike but different – someone who appears time and time again to get in my way.”
“From my perspective, you’re the one getting in the way.” She swirled the axe in her palm and her gaze turned dark, “I haven’t been sitting around and moping since our last meeting. Let me show you how much I’ve grown.”
I scoffed, “This’ll be interesting…”