The boy let out a sound of strangled misery as his birth-tree was felled at the hands of another. His task, his mission, the final order of his father would go unfulfilled. The walls of his perfect plan had come crumbling down faster than he'd ever imagined.

The woman, Eurya, the source of his anguish, turned to him and nodded in satisfaction. "It's decided," she announced with aplomb. "I will train you."

"Why!?" the boy managed to gasp out, packing half a dozen separate questions into that one word. Why would she complete the task meant for him? Why would she want to train him? Why would he want her training? Why was this happening to him? On and on the questions reverberated in his mind.

To Eurya, it was simple. "You couldn't leave until the tree was cut," she explained. "So, I cut it. You'll need to travel with us if I am to train you. You couldn't resolve this issue as you are, so I did it for you." She paused for a moment, then added, "You're welcome."

"There was no issue to resolve!" the boy spat. "I intended to train as my ancestors have, so that I might achieve the same heights as they did!"

"Yes, such great heights," the woman replied, rolling her eyes. Her hand gestured disdainfully around herself. "A squalid shack in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by monsters. Truly, they have provided well for their progeny."

The boy narrowed his eyes. As tempting as it was to lash out in anger, he knew it was pointless. She still held his sword, and he lacked the skill, besides. "Were you not so great a warrior," the boy said, venom lacing his words, "I would strike you down for what you have said and done this day."

"Ah, but I am a great warrior," she pointed out, "just as you are a small, helpless child. You don't even have a sword." She wiggled his wooden blade. "The sharpest weapon you wield is your tongue."

The boy flushed, but reigned in his temper.

"We will fix that," the woman continued. "You're but a nicos, a fledgling. Do not worry, little Nicos, I will teach you how to fly."

He shook his head vehemently. "I do not want your training."

"You refuse me?" The woman sounded honestly surprised.

"Of course I do!" the boy exclaimed. "You invade my home, destroy my birth-tree, insult my ancestors! I refuse you! I refuse everything to do with you!"

"Narrow-minded," she scoffed. "Clearly I am stronger than you. Do you not seek that strength? Is that not why you have trained? Why deny a great gift when it is dropped in your lap?"

"I see no such gift," the boy hissed. "You claim to have known my father, but hold no respect for his legacy! I will take no advice from one such as you, who would mock what my ancestors have accomplished!"

Eurya shook her head in disappointment. "You are too weak to be so particular. That is your first lesson: find strength where you can, when you can, for the world does not wait."

The boy opened his mouth. There was a reply on his tongue. What, he did not know. A denial, most likely. It was all he wanted to do; to deny everything that this vicious woman said. It did not matter what the truth was.

The man in red held up his hand, and silence fell in the meadow.

"That's enough," he said simply, glaring at his companion.

The woman huffed. "He refused me."

"Of course he did. You cut down his tree."

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"I saved him months of effort," she protested. "Nicos, here, would have run out of water long before finishing that cut."

"Don't call me that!" the boy snapped.

The blind man regarded him. "Mind your temper, boy, lest it be your undoing. Regardless of how she went about it, you should not so easily deny Eurya's offer. You will, quite literally, never have an opportunity such as this again. Do you really wish deny such a prestigious teacher?"

The calm, stern tone reminded the boy of his father. Anger flared at the nostalgia, followed by sadness. He lowered his eyes, and said, "I barely even know who you people are."

The Keeper blinked, then glanced to Eurya. "Did we not mention that already?"

She frowned. "Our names, I think? Not who we are, nor what we do. Why bother? My prowess is obvious to any with eyes."

"It's been a while since we've bothered to," the Keeper acknowledged, running a hand through his hair. He turned to the boy, and smiled apologetically. "You're right, boy. You know nothing of us. Few do, in this city, nor in any of the Kingdoms of Athun. The All-Kings do not like legends that surpass their own. They feel it weakens them."

"Blasphemy," the boy hissed. No mortal surpassed the All-King. It was a law of existence. If it wasn't, his father would still be alive.

The blind man shrugged. "As you say. Regardless, we are... problem-solvers, I suppose."

"Mercenaries," the boy said. Something inside the boy relaxed a smidgen. Mercenaries were familiar. They were the very lifeblood of Farathun. His father may very well have known them, after all.

"Of a sort," the man in red agreed. "Though our purpose is not always violent, and our quarries are significantly more grand."

"Grand?" The boy did not perk up with curiosity. He was no longer a child, easily distracted by tales of glory. But he kept his focus on the blind man. With Eurya out of his vision, his simmering resentment could be kept at bay.

The Keeper smiled, fully aware of the interest he'd stirred. "Oh yes. Our next venture will take us far to the east, beyond the Gravel Sea. Our destination is a large city, built into the side of a mountain. A titan was recently uncovered in that very mountain, either born there or awoken, and we were hired to deal with it."

A titan! Elemental beings of immense power, said to be unkillable! And to travel such a ways, over a hostile land filled with monsters? That was a deed worthy of a name!

Assuming they were telling the truth.

"You are capable of such a task?" he demanded, glaring at the woman. "You are stronger than me, I acknowledge that, but I don't believe you can face a being capable of matching the gods."

She shrugged. "I do not require your belief. Though, as my student, I do require your obedience."

"I'm not your student!" he shouted again.

His plan was in tatters, but he could adapt. It was what his father always told him; he had to adjust to the circumstances given to him. First, he would need a blade. He could hardly master the sword without one. Then he would need a new evertree to cut. Without his birth-tree, he'd be forced to improvise a stand-in.

Those could only be found in the Tau'Torahn, many weeks to the north. The trip would take him past the borders of Farathun, into the reach of its many rival Fortress Cities. He would need to seek the permission of the All-King in order to make such a trip, and be granted a badge of pilgrimage, otherwise his presence might trigger a war.

It would be a difficult journey, but he could manage. He would hitch himself to a merchant caravan, and barter his services for a sword. Blood might be spilled, but his father would understand the need. The boy would still complete his final task.

He felt the tension leaving his body, as the remnants of his old plan coalesced into something new. He would be fine. He would succeed. There could be no other outcome. He refused to even consider it.

"I am not your student," he repeated, his voice calming. He turned to the man in red. "I thank you for your concern, and your offer, but I will be fine on my own."

"Will you?" the Keeper asked. "What is it you'll do?

"I will journey to the Dread Valley, and harvest a new evertree." His eyes flicked sullenly over to Eurya, whose smug smile had not lessened an inch. "To replace the one that you destroyed. Or, if my skill has advanced enough, execute the strike demanded of me, there."

"Stupid," the woman commented, much to his annoyance. "Brave, but stupid."

He did not deign to look at her, until a flash of mottled grey caught the corner of his eye. He flinched, as his evertree sword slammed blade-first into the dirt beside him.

"Take it, brave stupid boy," Eurya said.

He stared at it, pride and need warring within him.

"I do not want your pity," he replied.

She smirked at him, the same amused, arrogant expression she'd worn when he'd attacked her. "What strength will you use to refuse it?"

He grimaced at the unsubtle reminder of his place in the world. Pride fell away, and he gripped the blade by its handle.

"Not too big a fool, then," the woman remarked.

He ignored her.

"We will remain in the city for one more day," she added, eliciting a surprised noise from her companion. "Should you come to your senses, and accept my offer, you will find us there."

"That will not be necessary," the boy responded.

"We will see."