“Even if I find talking about the dead somewhat tasteless.”

“D-dead?” Asked Lane, but then decided to let his teacher explain before asking more.

“Yes, he passed about fifteen years ago in the middle of The Shattering’s aftermath. Well, I guess it’s natural you didn’t know about it since it happened before you were born after all,” She said while rubbing her chin, “in any case, it’s not like the Kingdom goes around reminding the world about each Weapon that dies. It would be counterproductive and that, well...”

“Yes, goes against the Kingdom’s safety,” he said looking down, “I know that too well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I was the one asking after all,” Said Lane shaking his head before looking up again, “But, even if it’s a secret shouldn’t his death be part of our lessons? I mean, until yesterday I didn’t even know we had a Weapon named after scepters!”

“He? Do you doubt your teacher, Lane? The Scepter’s death may not be as famous as other events, but we did cover that in the lessons,” she said while smirking and waving a finger at him, “although you are right, in a sense. That is, when we studied it, we didn’t talk about Brammond or The Scepter as is. Instead, you should be familiar with the advent of claws…”

No way!

“… And the fall of wings.” She finished.

“T-teacher, wings as… As the royal wings?”

“The very same. Fifteen years ago, at the pass of dusk, the royal wing stopped cold the advance of Novakhor’s forces and set in stone what would become our eastern frontier. However, what we didn’t cover and is off every record in The Kingdom, is that by that time the royal wing only had three members.”

Lane shivered and rubbed his arms to chase away a non-existent breeze.

“Do you remember why we call that battle the fall of wings, Lane?”

“Third, o-only a third of the wing survived the battle but if they were only three then…”

“That’s right,” She said, “Only Lady Reese, the current Scepter, survived the battle. Fifteen years ago, on that pass, Lord Brammond and his two disciples faced on their own the joint charge of the whole Novakhorian elites, and won.”

Lane licked his lips, thinking of the hunched old man clasping his shoulder in a steel grip. So he definitely is loyal to The Kingdom, He thought, but then, why was Erin so worked up because I met him? And, what he said about the curse…

He gulped, lost in his thoughts before Joanna’s words brought him back into his chair.

“Seems ridiculous, doesn’t it? Come on, I think there was a book about that somewhere over here,” She said shrugging and standing up, “Now don’t put that face, Lane. I know you don’t like books but reading is something you will do a lot if you follow your parent’s footsteps.”

“I, I know teacher. It’s just that I’ve had some bad experiences with books recently.” He said following her through a corner hidden between bookshelves until they reached a metal door he had not seen before.

“Why, did some old book bit you?” She said snorting and taking a keychain from her sleeve.

“Yeah, ha ha ha, how silly of me, they don’t bite at all…” He said with a twitching eye and following her inside a little studio after she finished mumbling at the keychain and opened the door.

“Anyway, you should read more, Lane. Look here,” She said stopping before the last shelf in the hallway, “every book on this shelf has something to tell you about the aftermath of The Shattering. This one here,” And she duck, picking out a booklet that let some pages flying down as she opened it, “Well, I guess it has seen better times.”

She stopped for a moment, picking up the pages and double-checking their placement before going back to Lane.

“What was I saying? Ah, that’s right… When King Ain inherited the crown, he made keeping records of every confrontation with a foreign power a policy. He wanted the records at the reach of every border Liege and their possible successors…”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

She stopped again, checking for the third time the placement of the pages before patting the booklet and turning towards Lane.

“…This one here,” she continued passing the booklet to Lane, “is a collection of interviews the first captain at the scene collected from eyewitnesses. To be honest, it should be little Dahlia reading this, but I don’t think they will mind if you borrow it for a while.”

“Thank you, teacher!”

“Don’t thank me. I’d rather you take good care of it,” she said shaking her head, “I don’t want my teacher complaining about greasy pages anymore.”

“R-right, teacher, I also wanted to ask about something else,” He said looking sideways.

“Hmm? More questions? Well, as long as they are not about The Spear…”

“Ahem, t-that was a long time ago, teacher!”

“And I still remember…”

“Ugh, b-but I do have questions about something else!” He said waving his hands, “C-curses! I wanted to know if there is a way a spirit can haunt people and stop a reveal!”

“Lane…” She said frowning, “even if you are still angry at Hans, you shouldn’t go around plotting how to mess with his reveal. There are many other things you should be reading instead!”

“Ah! No! This has nothing to do with Hans,” he said with a reddened face, “I am serious about it! I-I think a spirit cursed me!”

“Uh? What do you mean? Spirits don’t curse people Lane. Have you been reading Lena’s novels again? No, you don’t read after all… Then,” And her eyes squinted as she mumbled to herself shaking her head, “Lane, your father is not going to be happy if you keep hanging around the hunter’s guild. You are even picking up their superstitions! Keep like that and the next thing I’ll know is that you are asking about that Khorian’s mother nonsense!”

“B-but teacher!”

“No more!” She said pushing him out of the room, “go and study properly for your reveal! The spirits know I’m busy enough as it is…” And she closed the door on his face.

“I…” He stood there for a moment, holding the booklet and watching the closed door with his eyebrows high and his mouth open, “I only asked about The Spear that one time!”

Inside the room, Joanna frowned in silence, her lips pressed tight in a thin line as she held a blue pebble hanging like a pendant from her neck. She bit her lips, her hand trembling slightly as she took a deep breath. After she focused for a moment, the stone on her hand started glowing.

“Sir,” She said opening her eyes, her voice but a whisper, “we need to talk. I think he is here...”

She stopped talking; listening to a voice only she could hear before nodding.

“Yes, he went for the boy… Understood.”

She let go of the stone, and then looked at the door for a moment. On her gaze, a single tear shone as she let out a breath.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Twenty minutes later, Lane walked through the market while he mumbled with a frown.

“Read more books, Lane, they don’t bite…. No, Lane, curses don’t exist... Why, of course, it is the hunter’s guild fault… Dead, dead my ass! The old bastard can’t be more lively! Stupid knights, stupid castle… Stupid Book!”

He stopped walking, grabbed a bag hanging at his side, and shook it.

“We are going to see that old bag of bones, you hear me Book?” He said gnashing his teeth, “fuck waiting a week and fuck his trice dammed curse! So you better pray he gives some good explaining this time or we will stop by the lumber on the way back. Either way, I find out what is going on or how much you like warming up with a bonfire…”

The bag shook and escaped from his hands; he looked at it, snorted, and kicked it before ducking to pick it up. However, before he stood up, a croaky laugh reached him.

Looking up, Lane saw he was already in front of the taxidermy shop beside the Broken Wagon. Sitting on his couch, the old drunkard looked him with squinting eyes.

He stopped chuckling for a moment to sip from his bottle and then chuckled again while smacking his lips.

“What?” Lane asked, “What do you find so funny old man?”

“har har har, look at you, all worked up,” *cough cough* “What do you have in that bag you little brat?

“None of your business!” Lane snorted before turning away and walking to the Wagon’s entrance. However, when he lifted the linen curtain and pushed the door, he found it closed.

Fuck.

He pushed it again, harder but the door didn’t budge an inch. Then he growled and started banging it. However, after two straight minutes at it, a rough breathing Lane decided that perhaps The Scepter was not home.

“Har har har,” came the laugh again.

Lane turned glaring with his eyes wide, only to find the drunkard grinning at him.

“Tell me, little brat,” The drunkard said while licking his lips, “did you bring a coin?”