Ram was unconscious still, though his condition improved rapidly. His heart rate was back to normal and so were his pupils. His skin flushed, Mannat sensed his mana regenerating and concluded he’d be fine, albeit in need of some serious rest for the next few days. He also sensed the tension gripping his two companions on the short journey, and sensed their fears loosening once they crossed the clearing and made it to the road leading away from the Witch.

She had a powerful aura that had a domineering effect on anyone with weak willpower. It was no wonder there were no birds or animals around the clearing; she had scared them all away.

Mannat also felt restrained in his thoughts, but the reason was his heavy pocket. Ram’s sister refused to take it back, even going as far as saying she’d rather die. She was afraid of the Witch. They had taken a cure so a price had to be paid. The Witch had given her price and the woman felt a few coins were well worth the life of her brother.

The horse pulling the cart was brown, short, and wide. He had thick legs and greasy hair, much like his master, Kaju. Both were in strict need of a comforting long bath.

Mannat saw Kaju pulling the reins to take the outer road and asked if he could go through the village.

“I need to pick someone up.”

“Whom?”

“You might know him,” Mannat said hopefully. “The hunter you met a year ago: brown-haired, a few inches taller than me,”

It was still morning. Pandit should be home or dragged out of his bed by his mother Gandi and forced to work at the butcher shop. Mannat hoped it was the latter because he desperately needed someone who could deter the thoughts of the Kaju’s villagers. Not that he believed them to have insidious motions against him. His last tussle with his neighbors had proved them a wholesome bunch; it was quite a surprise to learn that the relations between the villages were much better than the old stories laid out.

“Are you talking about the one who follows Deacon on his herb gathering trips in the forest?” The woman chirped unexpectedly. She had found her voice now that they were out of the woods, causing Kaju and Mannat to share a look of sympathy.

“That’s the one,” Mannat answered thinking women from other villages were starting to notice his friend, and whether he should give the lazy buffoon the news or keep it to himself. It didn’t take him long to decide it would be better for everyone if Pandit didn’t know anything about it.

She was aware of their thoughts and ignored them rightfully so. “You should tell him to stop wasting his time. Many of our children have tried following that rude man to learn his job and no one has succeeded. For one, Deacon’s personalities can’t be called the most friendly and, he never stays long enough to teach anything valuable to anyone.”

“What do you need him for?” Kaju asked. He kept his head straight. Many people knew him in Mannat’s village and even more held a grudge against him. He held the reins with one hand and kept another on his sword that he had kept unsheathed right beside him. It was in everyone’s sight and his reach -- a warning to anyone with rude thoughts.

Mannat was straight with him. “For protection and company,”

Kaju knew it was the right call, but he still thought differently. “I don’t think you need protection from anyone.” He pulled the reins to keep the horse on the straight road leading toward the village center.

People looked at them as they passed. They were coming from the Witch’s direction; of course, people stared. Soon they passed the smithy, which was surprisingly open.

“Stop here for a second,” Mannat called and Kaju obliged.

The woman glanced at the shop then back at Mannat. “Isn’t your friend a hunter? Why are we stopping here?”

She was definitely keeping tabs on Pandit.

Mannat didn’t explain. He waited for the cart to stop then got off. He went through the open door and found his father talking to a customer at the counter. Raesh was neither drunk nor fighting the man; his eyes clear and willing. He held a thin kitchen knife in his hand that had definitely seen better days. The customer wore threadbare clothes washed so many times all of them had turned the same grey color. He smelled of seat and poverty, the mark of a laborer and a jobless. He probably didn’t have the money to replace the knife either which Mannat would suggest considering the flimsiness of the knife's blade; it was thin as a wafer with the ductility of paper.

Raesh saw Mannat and smiled confidently. “You came at the right time. Can you sharpen the knife for him? I’m a bit busy.” He raised the flimsy thing in the air and shook it between his thumb and index finger causing the tang to rattle in the wooden handle, making both the smiths frown.

“Also take a look at that while you are at it.”

Mannat apologized. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The Witch gave me a task. I’m on my way to village Bijuha.”

What task, Mannat didn’t say. There was no need to. They had a conversation about this a very long time ago whence Raesh was sober, and they had reached an understanding.

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“Is it anything serious?”

“Not for me, but it might be insidious for them,” Mannat told truthfully.

Raesh knew the kind of trouble that ensued whenever the Witch gave a task. It wasn’t Mannat’s first and he knew unless the boy ran away he wasn’t sure he could stop the boy anymore. He lost that privilege when he left Mannat alone when he needed him the most.

“About the handle--”

Raesh raised a hand to stop the man, the laborer who owned the knife. “Do you need any help?”

Mannat shook his head. “I’m taking Pandit along unless he’s not at the shop.”

“Then you’ll be fine.”

A sense of pride grew in Mannat’s chest. It felt good to have his father recognize his best friends. Yes, Pandit had his demons, but he also had the strength to stand his ground against unfavorable circumstances. He was someone Mannat could trust with his life, and his father acknowledged that.

Mannat was about to leave when he remembered the money purse he had received. He couldn’t take it with him now, could he? His pocket sighed in relief when he removed the weight and gave it to his father.

“What’s this?” Raesh asked, carefully handling the purse as if he was holding a basket of cracked eggs that would burst with regret and splash him in disappointment if he took a wrong step.

“My first pay,” Mannat said softly. His voice wasn’t so confident as it should have been. He hadn’t robbed someone! But it felt exactly like that. He received the money for saving someone; he should be proud of it, however, his mind was in pieces over it. It kept telling him he could have killed Ram; the parasite could have exploded; it could have had a core that could have melded with him and turned him into a monster! The money was too hot in his hands.

No one else saw the reason behind his hesitation. They believed it to be a product of his naivety. Perhaps, the Witch knew why she forced him to take the money and even ordered him to take the exact amount from everyone else he saves. Well, that was going to be difficult since there was an equivalent of ten silvers inside the purse made of three silver and seventy bronze coins. Mannat had counted.

Raesh nodded and took the purse away from the laborer's eyes; the man had been staring at it without blinking. Greed has myriad ways to corrupt even the innocent, making them susceptible to evil thoughts. It was no less potent than miasma in changing people’s hearts.

“Anything else?” Raesh asked, laying his hands flat atop the countertop, meaning to thwart any attempts made by the man who now held the knife in his hand. There was nothing wrong with being vigilant. You never know…

Mannat interrupted his thought. “I’ll see you when I come back, and then we’ll finish that thing.”

A smile grew hold of Raesh‘s face. Mannat waved to leave, only for Raesh to realize the boy was basically going naked into the battlefield.

“Wait here a minute,” Raesh called.

He went to the back of the shop and brought back a pair of leather vests for Mannat. They both had steel plates glued on the surface to cover the important organs, the heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and even had thick metallic strips on the back to protect the spine. They came with two sets of cast iron armguards. The whole armors set was simple but efficient and thick enough to stop any arrowhead under 30 grams of weight from penetrating through, good enough to deal with a few villagers.

Mannat wore one, picked the other, thanked his father, and left the shot. Raesh watched him leave before facing the customer.

Outside, Mannat got into the cart and told Kaju to stop outside the Butcher shop next. They didn’t ask him why he wore the armor since it was common sense to at least prepare a vest before leaving for a foreign settlement. Only destitute people with no understanding of the world would get upset at him for caring about his safety. Most people would look at him approvingly for not leaving his life in fate's hands.

Going in simple clothes would have been like traveling buck-naked in the woods with blood dripping down his ass -- an invitation for the beasts.

“Did you spend all the money?” The woman asked staring at the two sets of leather armor that Mannat carried.

She had stopped crying and her voice was no longer hoarse and coarse. And having wiped her face Mannat could see that she was not so old herself. He hadn’t paid attention while examining Ram, but the man was only twenty-one years old, and if there was no Mannat or Witch living in his backyard he would have died at such a young age. Goes to say, you can never be too sure when death might come knocking down.

“No. My father gave them to me for protection. I--”

“You are a blacksmith's son?” Kaju wasn’t expecting that He didn’t know what he was expecting actually.

Well, Mannat would have loved to answer the question if they hadn’t just come upon their stop.

“Stop right here,” Mannat told Kaju and jumped out of the cart.

They were going slow, or how else would a cart pass through a single road leading toward the village center? There was no one foolish or daring enough to race through a foreign village without a care in the world?

Mannat pushed the door open and it ringed a message of his entry.

“Wait a minute,” Pandit’s voice came from the back of the shop.

Mannat sighed in relief. He might have had to leave Pandit if he wasn’t there.

Pandit came up wearing a blood-stained, grim-colored leather apron and raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“What’s the matter?” He went straight for the bone.

Mannat wouldn’t have looked for him so early in the morning dressed in armor and arm guards if it wasn’t something important. In fact, Pandit was already removing his apron since he was sure he would be leaving the shop for a while. He was right, just the matter wasn’t so serious and perhaps, even a little bit exciting.

“Do you want to go hunt some parasites?” Mannat asked.

Pandit smirked and threw his apron on the countertop. "Do you need to ask?"