Rodent was surprised to see his first village.

He had expected it to be somewhat busy, that people would be outside tending to the land or drawing water from a well, and carriages and carts would pass through the village's central passage as goods and crates were loaded or unloaded.

He expected a tavern where many people would join, smoke, drink, and music would be in the air from their windows as the people either partied or celebrated.

But there was no such music and no such happenings, barely a person outside as though who were about wore hoods and covered their faces as they walked. Rodent felt confused as even the buildings, despite being proper, seemed abandoned.

People weren't about. Conversations of events or life were not had. He cursed the age he came from when most people were on their phones or distracted in countless other ways. Yet here… there was nobody here… just barren, healthy land starting to go untouched and, thus, wild.

"He's dressed like nobody else," Javen said as the two guards led the way forward, with Rodent a step behind the middle of them. Javen even glanced back and held his helmet's gaze. "There's drawings of those who live across the sea. But he... looks like none of them."

"The world is a big place," Frual returned as he did not look back. "Many unknown places."

"His clothes… his very air… it's unlike anything else."

"He does claim to be from another world."

Javen couldn't help but ask the man himself. "Are you actually from another world, Rodent?"

"Yeah."

"Honestly and truly?"

"Lying is boring."

Javen watched him.

"Well." Javen returned to focusing ahead. "I believe you believe."

"Thanks!" Rodent said as they came to a stone, round building in the village's south section; the structure only had a floor with a pointed roof. A thick golden rod stuck out from its tip. "Though that doesn't affect me."

"Heh." Javen's shoulders raised and lowered. "You're self-assured."

Rodent snickered. "Just don't really care!"

"Is that right?"

They reached the building's door and paused. Though Javen was going to run Rodent through what he was supposed to do, the man immediately remembered who he was dealing with and thus gave up on the endeavour.

Javen knocked on the door twice and waited, and though there was a huff on the other side, a gruff, loud voice answered.

"Enter."

----------------------------------------

The inside of the round structure was small, with a stone-crafted pit at the center.

The three entered, a blue fire in the pit, burning off wooden beams that could be used for structures. On the beams, the ones with their surface visible above the fire had cravings upon them of shapes and symbols and even sigils. Rodent stared at them to see what they meant—before his attention was drawn to the projection in the fire.

Despite the crackling of the fire, Rodent blinked as there was no heat or smoke, and the wood burned cleanly without aftermath. This perplexed him as he almost wanted to reach in and touch the fire—regardless of the result this would bring.

As he tried to reach a hand in, Jarven noticed and quickly slapped it away.

Rodent pulled his hand away as he could feel Javen's hidden glare, rubbing his knuckles and looking at the center of the fire, catching the fire-projection of someone on a throne. It made Rodent blink to think that such a thing was possible.

The figure was seated upon a towering throne and looked down at the tall, giant blond man standing before the fire. The figure's hooded head turned to those who had entered. "Who are they?"

"The subordinates," answered the towering blond man. "And… a stranger."

"Why did you let them enter?"

"Few know this tongue."

"They can still gleam."

"Apologies, sir."

Rodent blinked. He glanced at the two guards—both stood there, silent and unaware of what was spoken. It seemed to be an everyday thing due to how well they posed. Rodent did his best to act like them.

"The Council of Eight still stresses over your involvement." The figure leaned back on his throne and rolled his neck. "They believe one of a higher rank, a higher calibre, should be sent instead." The figure's hand scratched underneath its hood—the sound was hard and loud. "But silent though grave matters require that not a single curious eye flicks upon it, Steinith."

Steinith bowed.

"Thus... you are the best pick. Your disappearance won't be noticed, yet your powers, Q, and strength assure the mission's success." The figure stopped scratching, as, when its hand pulled from underneath its hood, so too did a chunk of something. "Hence why I pleaded to the Council on your behalf. I... am responsible for you. You understand, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's conclude this conversation with your report." The figure sat properly upon its throne. "What is Deskar's state in the south?"

"Better than in the east or west." Steinith raised properly as he spoke. "It hasn't crept here like it has everywhere else. I have no concrete proof for why, yet—but I have several theories."

The figure grumbled in a way barely heard. "That is the 'holy' land, as it were."

"There's nothing holy about the south," Steinith returned, hands behind his back. "Any lingering magic or Brar is gone. At least… unable to be felt."

"So why is the progression of Deskar greater everywhere else?"

"I… do not wish to speak… until I have proof to assure my claims."

"And when can I expect those to arrive?"

"I expect my examination of the land to be about two weeks, sir." Steinith leaned forward. "From there, I plan to head further south. I hope to find the source of the discrepancy there."

"Unwise for one so unprepared." The figure moved forward on its throne. "Do not be mistaken in your role in all this. You might be replaceable—but your current position is valuable. Few can move and report as you do. A lower rank is not always a foul thing."

Steinith shook his head. "Of course not, sir." He faced the figure proudly. "But nothing more can be gleaned without heading toward the source. I will be prepared... when the time is right."

"Your research on Deskar does not put you above it." The figure sat upright. "Deskar is beyond comprehension. Your successors died without even making contact. Do not allow a shred of arrogance to interfere with your pursuit."

"Yes, sir."

"And tell me… do you plan to examine the Sword while you examine the source?"

"T-The Sword?" Steinith blinked and was taken aback—breath slightly lost, this fact barely able to be hidden. "I-It… is within the realm of my investigation… and one from the village did try to attempt it… but…”

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"It might be worth an examination if you are daring enough," the figure said. Deeskar and the Sword are fundamentally related—even if the latter is mere rust now." Its sleeved arms rubbed together. "The coincidence is too great."

Its hand raised to do something—but lowered as if the figure remembered something.

"Oh. That reminds me. The Council is anxious about a certain matter." The figure cracked its neck. "How long do you estimate until Deskar reaches the mainland—Fal'qu Kingdom?"

It was such a simple, gently asked question that nearly plucked Steinith's heart from his chest as his soul felt plucked forward. The tall, muscular man composed himself in that second—almost throwing up his answer.

"I-If things c-continue as they are…" Steinith inhaled greatly to get the words through. "Six months."

"Hmm. Unfortunate." The figure looked at the others present—those he had commanded to go—though locked eyes with Rodent. The two stared at each other, with nothing lost from Rodent's experience. "You shouldn't have invited them."

"Sorry, sir."

"Their third," the figure began. "Extract everything from him. He's unnatural. I dislike it."

Steinith turned to the group as well. "Done, sir."

"I shall draft up the rotation if things come to their worst in six months." The figure's hand raised entirely. "Your kind shall have a place upon it."

"I am thankful, sir."

"Don't fail."

Just like that, the projection ceased, and the fires stopped. The room turned normal as overhead candles lit themselves again, and a light shone through the window. Steinith faced the group and stood over a foot taller than anyone present.

His hair was blond and swept back, and his face was as elegant as a soldier's could be. His eyes were bright and blue and usually half-narrowed. His expression was dead to the world as he focused on those who had entered. He changed languages: Javen and Frual now understood him.

"You are instructed never to knock unless the matter is urgent."

Javen glanced at Frual before nodding and stepping forward. "The matter is important, sir."

Steinith glared harder at Javen before his gaze flicked up to Rodent.

Rodent stood how he was, facing the towering, toned giant without a change to his face. Some blond and silver hairs had fallen over his face as he stared back at Steinith. He betrayed no hesitation or fear.

"Who are you?" Steinith asked.

"He is—"

"The man can speak for himself," Steinith said. "Clear off. I wish to converse with him."

The guard nodded, tapped the bottom of their poles against the ground, and then split so one stood with their back to the pit and the other against the wall. Steinith stepped forward as the dropping of his metal boot clanked before thudding, and the rest of his armour flexed and copied likewise.

"You didn't have to be rude to them."

Steinith blinked and focused harder on Rodent. "What did you say to me?"

"You don't have to be rude," Rodent replied. "And watch how you speak to me."

Steinith's nose wrinkled upward. The guards wanted to help or de-escalate the situation—but couldn't bring themselves to do anything. Instead, the giant suit of armour clapped closer to Rodent, towering over the smaller man. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"No," Rodent returned without taking away his gaze or caring just how much his neck was craned back. His face remained stern and annoyed. "And I don't care to learn."

Steinith's eyes flared with anger as his gaze passed through Rodent's surface to peer at the contents of his soul. "Then just who are you to speak this way?"

"Nobody," Rodent returned, still without his fear. "Because nobody deserves to be treated this way."

Javen slapped the visor of his helmet and clenched a fist to repress his voice while Frual turned away, shook his head, and seemed to exhale. Steinith, meanwhile, had his face flared with something as he bent forward and picked Rodent up by his collar, raising him to the ceiling.

Though gasping at being grabbed and held in the air, Rodent struggled little, face strained. He grabbed the massive hand that held him—but did not fight back.

Stick had fallen and clattered on the ground.

"You speak big game for a head I can easily squeeze."

"Noticed that fact when I first talked back to you." Rodent chuckled and smiled at the giant man. "Didn't care then, don't care now."

Steinith, though holding firm, betrayed a little perplexion. "You have no tricks to use on me. You are utterly under my control."

"Yeah," answered Rodent, glaring into the giant's face, still holding his death's smile. "And I still choose not to submit."

Steinith stared at Rodent for a while, not betraying anything on his face, not weakening his grip to even the slightest degree, and not caring that the others behind him were struggling to remain still.

Steinith, drawing a fist, cocked it back as slowly as he could… and then flew it forward at Rodent.

Though closing his eyes, Rodent did not flinch as he waited for the attack to hit. He felt wind upon his face and nothing more. His eyes fluttered open to see the closed fist an inch from his nose, and the massive fingers filled most of his vision.

Seconds later, the fist retracted, and the hand holding him in the air lowered Rodent onto the ground.

"Been a while since I've encountered one with spunk." Steinith placed Rodent on the ground and returned to his usual height. "Forgive me. But I still need to do this."

And with that, the giant cocked back his arm and, holding it, blew it forward against Rodent, which it knocked into and blasted Rodent back.

From standing to flying in under a second, Rodent smashed into a wall and started hacking up a storm—unable to breathe.

"Disrespect must be matched with disrespect." Steinith drew his arm back and rolled his neck while turning away to the back of the hut. He grabbed a chair, returned, and placed it next to Rodent. "Of course, I started us off on the wrong foot, but—I'm sure you understand."

Rodent pushed himself off the wall with a great struggle and a stumble, then collapsed into the seat—before it was pulled away, and he struck the ground. Steinith laughed even more as he left the seat and stepped away.

On the ground, Rodent was forced to push against it as he pulled himself onto the chair, still breathing. He felt beaten and worn and touched his face to the surprise that there was no blood there.

He sat to recover as the two other guards came before him—acting as if that would detract from further disrespecting behaviour.

"Again—forgive me." Steinith stopped a couple of feet from the group, turning around to impose his great size on them again. "But I cannot ever appear weak. Nobody can speak to me as you have. All must learn how I defend my name. To be known as weak or soft while alone in these lands would be, well, rather bad for all of us."

Rodent wasn't sure how much he believed that, but he nodded and raised a hand, fighting to gather his breath. His chest was weak and sore, and his lungs struggled to pull and carry and fill with oxygen. Rodent did his best to hide this fact as he nodded. "N-No… biggie."

"So… name?"

Rodent glanced up at him, and after a second, he gave it. "Rodent."

"Outlaw name?"

"No," Rodent looked Steinith right in the eyes. "It's my name. The one I hold to be true."

"Hm." Steinith raised a hand, and within it, a ball of white magic formed, appearing almost like wind, swirling faster and faster until exploding in pure white mist. This made Steinith nod as he focused back on Rodent. "You speak the truth. An odd truth. Rodent. I haven't heard of you."

Rodent lowered his head and shook it. "Not many have."

"How did you get to this village? It's a long way from the mainland."

"Warro Woods."

"You came through Warro Woods?"

"Yes."

"Hard to believe." Steinith raised his hand, forming another white ball… which burst into white mist again. "Where's your weapon, your magic? You should have been able to beat my punch."

"Don't have one."

Once again, the ball formed…

…black mist.

"My cane."

Another ball.

White.

"Warro Woods with a cane? Ain't you special."

"I saw that black stuff you were talking about there." Rodent wouldn't have given information like this so easily to such a man, but in hearing of the danger of this stuff, talking about it seemed like the wisest decision. "Deskar. It ate the trees and the creatures there. Wanted nothing to do with me."

"Bullshit."

Steinith didn't raise the ball.

"It's true."

"And the creatures? They were all dead?"

"More like there wasn't enough strength or life left in the trees for them to be brought out." Rodent shook and raised his head. "Only a wolf was able to spawn. It helps me across the woods."

"Hahaha! One of those things helped you?"

"Yes?"

"Well… hehehe… guess there's no problem believing you there." Steinith's expression became pleased by the news, and his head shook slightly. "And what brings you to this village?"

"I'm trying to meet people."

"HA! You are unnatural."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Steinith looked with hatred in its direction. He nudged for one of the guards to open it, which they did, and a short old lady stood on the other side. She barely came to the waist of those who were there as she looked up at those who were present.

"Oh." Steinith breathed deeply and composed himself, turning. "You."

The old lady nodded. "You know why I'm here."

"If this is a request about your grandson, we—"

"No, no, nothing… like that." The old lady stepped out from the strange outside light and into the dim interior of the building—seeming almost blissfully aware of the tense air. "Only I have found more info my grandson has on the Sword. I thought I would—"

Steinith, grinning, started to draw back his leg…

…and Rodent, shooting up from his chair, launched forward while reaching for Stick…