Inaki opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything.

His entire body was burning. He felt feverish. Numb and in excruciating pain at the same time. He couldn’t even breathe through his nose properly. His left eye was swollen shut, and he had a constant ringing in his right ear. He felt the shattered bones of his nose pressing into nerves, sending a jolt through his body every breath.

Where am I?

With all the will power in his body, Inaki sat up in his bed. He was in a small closed room with all the lights off. When he got up from the bed he was lying on, he realized that his muscles were all incredibly sore.

The Gael spearman, Inaki remembered. His head was exploding in pain. His last memory before fainting was Farrow's fist—drenched in Inaki’s blood—hitting him in the eye which was now swollen shut.

He remembered Farrow’s ultimatum. Two months, and then a duel to the death. No, it wouldn’t go that far, the Tomoka people would probably be looking for Inaki at that time, and Farrow’s capturing of Inaki by getting the army with him in broad daylight would definitely be noticed. Inaki walked around the little room that he was trapped in. Each step made him feel like he had hiked up a mountain.

There were two doors, one was a normal door, the other was a sliding door. Beside the bed there was a small table and a chair. On closer inspection, it didn’t seem like a room for a prisoner whatsoever—aside from its size. Inaki looked down and realized that they had left him a wooden practice sword on the floor a few steps away from the bed.

Apart from that the room was empty. Inaki had probably dropped his belongings in the chaos, and they hadn’t got it back for him. That meant that Inaki, after getting some money for that painting, was once again penniless and without any luggage.

On the table he found black swordsman’s robes and trousers, several pairs of them. Inaki changed into those clothes in the dark. Having seen everything in the room, Inaki walked to the normal door. He tried to push it open, but it was locked from outside.

He went to the sliding door, and surprisingly, this opened. The bright light of the sun instantly blinded Inaki. He averted his eyes as they began watering from the bright light.

“He’s up,” Inaki heard a woman’s voice from the garden.

He blinked his eyes through the sunlight, and through teary, blurred vision he saw a figure there, holding a spear in hand, she had a band of Iron just under the spearhead of his spear.

“How are you feeling,” The woman said.

Still getting used to the bright light, Inaki croaked, “Not good.”

“If he had said he’s doing well you would’ve punched him in the face wouldn’t you,” Inaki saw another figure. He opened his eyes, and saw that one of them was a woman, she looked to be about in her late twenties, with short blonde hair that came down to her neck slicked to one side. The other person was a man, he looked to be in his mid-twenties and his head was shaved bald, but he had a dirty blonde beard. He was also an Iron spearman.

They’ve left only two Irons to block my escape. Inaki reminisced over days when he had been able to defeat five Irons without even breaking a sweat.

“You’re at the Gael castle,” The woman said. “My name is Trish-Daughter-Yelan, and my brother over here is Nilun-son-Yelan. You’re allowed to move anywhere in this garden, and you’re allowed to go to the training hall, you will be given two meals a day. Access to the training hall is so that you can get the chance to win back your metal sword, so you don’t die unarmed two months from now. There is a bath at the training hall, and there is a privy there too.”

That was a lot of information for Inaki to process while breathing through his mouth because his nose was clogged with blood. “Can you repeat,” Inaki said.

“No,” Trish said.

“A nurse will be coming for you,” Nilun said. “In the meanwhile you can rest, or walk around in this garden.”

“Could I have some water,” Inaki croaked.

“There’s a jar right outside the door,” Trish said. Trish cursed about something, and then sat in a chair that was in the garden.

Inaki looked through the garden. It was lush, recently hedged, with deep green grass and all kinds of flowers. As Inaki’s eyes perused the flowers, he realized something. One of the flowers was for Takehito’s calming tea.

Takehito was here.

Inaki didn’t know how that would help him, but he didn’t know what to do either. His death was coming up in two months, and there was nothing he could do.

Inaki did not want to resign himself to the dark, which is why he walked out, and sat on one of the steps which led down into the garden. He looked up at the sky, and wondered.

I’ve tried training and it hasn’t worked, maybe the urgency of the two month fight would make me able to get better. Inaki thought. Probably not.

Trish and Nilun were obviously not happy about Inaki’s presence there, and Inaki wasn’t going to give them any more of a reason to not want him there. He picked up the jar of water and began drinking from it. He ended up finishing the entire jar before he even realized.

After sitting for some time in the awkward silence, Inaki walked back in. He shut the sliding door, leaving it a hair open for some sunlight to enter the room and laid on his bed.

How would Inaki even be able to train in his present condition? He had taken too much damage in his fight against Farrow. How long would it take him to heal, a week, two weeks. He was on borrowed time, and the interest was high.

With nothing to do, Inaki stepped out of bed, and picked up his sword. Holding it in his hand, he felt like he was embracing a lover who had betrayed him. Inaki raised his sword and struck it, and instantly, he knew all of his faults. His entire body ached with the strike.

Inaki began the Bullstance kata, but his injuries from his fight with Farrow compounded his usual injuries, making him fumble like an old man. He hated this monotonous cycle of picking up the sword, being unable to swing it properly, and then the hopelessness after.

Inaki couldn’t help but stare at the wooden practice sword in his hand.

“Come on,” Inaki heard his own voice in his head, but it sounded different, more confident, more sure of himself. “Swing it.”

Inaki raised the sword in the air and slashed down. He began the Tigerstance kata. Over the one year of suffering, everytime he had picked up the sword and done a kata it had stung him that he was not as good as he used to be. Instead he just did the kata. He remembered a time when the katas used to calm him down. He didn’t focus on how he was messing up the stance. He didn’t focus on how his strikes lacked all forms of grace.

He forgot his burning muscles, he forgot his one eye sewn shut, he surrendered himself to the sword like it was an old lover. Inaki didn’t focus on how badly he was doing it. Until he slipped and fell. Inaki didn’t know what to do for his dexterity. He didn’t know what to do because of his incompetence. His mind began flowing to situations in which he got a seizure in the middle of a fight, even though he hadn’t gotten one of them in a long time.

Inaki stood up, and finished the rest of the kata. Once he was done, he was exhausted. Just one kata had made him completely exhausted. Inaki tossed the sword to the ground and threw himself onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to do.

“So what do you want to do about son-Hassai over there,” Trish said. Inaki could hear their voices faintly from the little crack he had left in the door so that sunlight could come in.

“Maybe murder him in his sleep,” Nilun.

“No, if we murder him we have to make sure that Farrow doesn’t get to know we did it,” Trish said.

“Maybe we make it look like a suicide,” Nilun said.

Inaki listened to the two of them go back and forth over methods to kill Inaki. Inaki rose from his bed, and looked through the gap he had left in the door. Everytime they said something, they gave a side-eye to the door. They looked like they were trying to hold back a snicker.

His wounds were killing him, but they had told him that a nurse was on the way. So Inaki sat on his bed, and continued staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to feel sorry for himself.

“Farrow is doing you a favor you know,” The man Inaki used to be, whispered in his ears. “You are too much of a coward to quit yourself. Farrow ending your pathetic existence is probably the best thing that could happen to you now.”

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There was a knock at the door.

“It’s locked from outside,” Inaki said.

A woman walked in, wearing spearman’s robes—they were very similar to Swordsman’s robes, but instead of having long sleeves, the sleeves cut off at the shoulder. She was lithe, with a bald head. In one hand she carried with her a lamp bringing light into the room. In the other she was carrying a bag. All she had in terms of weaponry though was a short knife at her belt.

“Farrow has a bad tendency of not being kind to guests,” The woman said. She placed the lamp down at the table. “I apologize for leaving you here in the dark.”

“Oh hi Yaz,” Trish said, peeking in from the sliding door. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see Farrow’s prisoner here,” The woman—Yaz—said.

“Is Lord Yan comfortable with what Farrow did?” Trish said. “It would be so much easier if I fought and killed him right here right now.”

“Even if you kill him, Lord Yan will find a different way to punish you.” Yaz said, talking to Trish. “Don’t worry about Trish and Nilun, they like to joke around,” Yaz turned to Inaki. “Anyways, I am here to nurse your wounds. As an apology for what Farrow did to you, Sage Yan Gael has given you some out of our Urima herb.”

From her bag she pulled out a single small leaf, about the size of the white of Inaki’s fingernail. On the table she crushed it in a pestle and mortar, and put only half of that little powder in a jar of water. It seemed like there was only one grain of the thing for ten liters of water.

“Take off your robes,” Yaz said.

Without complaining Inaki took off his robes and sat down on the floor. Yaz picked up the water in her hands and put the concoction on Inaki’s face, instantly Inaki felt that he was able to breathe better.

“What is this,” Inaki said.

“Does Tomoka not have any of the Urima herb?” Yaz said.

“At least I don’t think so,” Inaki said.

“It’s the most potent medicine ever, it heals all wounds. But it only grows in one unclaimed forest, and the herbs are pretty rare.”

“Then why would your sage waste it on me,” Inaki said, wincing as Yaz massaged the water with the herb onto his eyes.

“It is a token of apology from the Sage,” Yaz said.

“So will the Sage let me go,” Inaki asked.

“I don’t know,” Yaz said.

Yaz pressed the herb onto his skin, massaging it into every single muscle, and where the herb water touched, Inaki instantly felt better.

Then she emptied the entire earthen pot of water on his head. It was extremely cold, but as the water traveled down his body, he felt that he was healing even more.

“Wait,” Inaki said. What if the herb had healed him? What if this was what he had needed from the start? Had destiny led him here so that he would get his talent back, and once again become the great Inaki-son-Hassai defeating Diamonds and Platinums at only nineteen.

Inaki picked up his sword and struck. It seemed every source of hope that Inaki ever had of recovering back to what he used to be burned to ash in the end.

Inaki sat down on the bed once again.

“So is it all true,” Yaz said. Yaz sat down on the chair next to the table. “Inaki the greatest prodigy ever born, reduced to nothing.”

“I’m doing better,” Inaki said, signaling that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Or is the story of the injury a life, and you were never that good?” Yaz asked.

“Don’t allow her to defile your honor,” The man that Inaki used to be, whispered in his mind. “Or at least what’s left of it. Defend yourself.”

“It’s all true,” Inaki said.

“Wow,” Yaz said. “How long has it been since your injury?”

“A year,” Inaki said.

“You’ll need a full stalk of the Urima herb to heal something like that,” Yaz said.

Trying to move the conversation away from himself, Inaki said, “Are you a nurse or a spearwoman?”

“Depends,” Yaz said. “If I found out that my brother turned a man into pulp and then took him prisoner, I’m a nurse, otherwise I am a spearwoman.”

Inaki wasn’t good at holding a conversation whatsoever. Not wanting to talk about his injury much, the two of them sat there in silence.

“If I find this Urima herb,” Inaki said. “Do I have any hope of recovery?”

“Yes,” Yaz said. “But you won’t, definitely not in your current state.”

Inaki instantly became disheartened. Yaz said, “I am sorry if hearing of this Urima herb gave you any hope.”

“It’s fine,” Inaki said. “Why are you not using me as a wooden dummy for spear practice like Farrow did?”

“I prefer not having to nurse my dummies back to health. Only Farrow is mad for revenge. Fortunately for you, it’s not vengeance against you, it’s against your father,” Yaz said.

“Why doesn’t he just announce that he has captured me,” Inaki said. “Wouldn’t that bring my father here to kill him.”

“He’s already done that. But also killing you would inflict more pain on your father. Farrow would do anything to make Hassai hurt,” Yaz said.

“My brother was here,” Inaki said.

“But he was here with Takehito,” Yaz said.

“Fair,” Inaki said. “Why are you still here? You’ve treated my wounds.”

“A believer in bluntness,” Yaz said. “My kind of person. Anyways, if I leave here, I’d have to be somewhere else, and I really don’t want to go there.”

“Where,” Inaki said.

“Discussing whether Farrow should be allowed to kill you,” Yaz said.

“Why don’t you go to argue for me,” Inaki said.

“Because I am not sure if you’re worth arguing for,” Yaz said.

“I understand I’m now too weak to defend,” Inaki said.

“Your weakness,” Yaz said. “That’s not why. Inaki, you challenged a grieving father to a fight, lost, then in your own anger burned down Shinra’s grave, then attacked the castle of the grieving father, and then the man let you go, and ran away from his kingdom.”

That was not how Inaki remembered those events.

“She is calling you a bad person to your face,” The man Inaki used to be, whispered in his ears. “Defend your honor.”

Was I a bad person, Inaki thought. Inaki couldn’t believe it.

“Taral had walked into Tomoka, thrown shit on my honor, then walked away with a declaration of war. I got my first retribution by burning the grave, and almost got my final revenge at the castle. I don’t know why Taral spared my life, but he told me to give up the sword. But ask anyone from Yaroka, who is more honorable, me or that worm Taral, you’ll get your answer.”

“The world sees it as Taral being a dishonorable bastard, but you being even worse,” Yaz said. “I am getting tired of sitting here, want to go to the garden?”

“Yeah, but Trish and Nilun don’t seem like they like me very much,” Inaki said.

“Have you given them a reason to like you?” Yaz said.

Inaki said. “I haven’t given them a reason to not like me either.”

“The one thing they know about you is that you burned a defeated opponent's grave, so you’re going to have to convince them the other way.” As the two of them walked out of the room into the garden, they saw Trish and Nilun were having a friendly duel.

“One of yall want to join, I’m getting bored of defeating Nilun,” Trish said. “son-Hassai?”

“No,” Inaki said. “Still injured from fighting Farrow.”

“Yeah,” Trish said. “That’s why you don’t want to duel.”

“You look scared of Trish, don’t worry she doesn’t bite,” Nilun said. “She does scratch though.”

“Shut up,” Trish said, whacking him with the back of her spear.

“We decided that we’d only attack each other during duels,” Nilun said.

“As if you could get a hit on me even in a duel,” Trish said.

“Want to try me,” Nilun said.

“That’s what I was just doing, asshold,” Trish said.

Trish and Nilun continued dueling, friendly and vicious at the same time. Inaki almost remembered his duels with Gonten. Nilun was good, but Trish had learned to read him. It looked like sibling relationships remained the same regardless of age.

“So what have you been doing, while you can’t swing the sword,” Yaz said.

“Painting,” Inaki said.

“Do you paint better, or swing a sword better now,” Yaz asked?

“Dunno,” Inaki said.

The two of them continued talking to each other about Inaki’s pass-times during the time he didn’t train with the sword.

Inaki realized that this was probably the longest conversation he had ever had with another person. At least the longest conversation he had ever had in his life, not entirely about the sword. Yaz didn’t force Inaki to talk about his feelings, purpose, or anything else like that. She tried, but Inaki didn’t open up to her much more than talking about his interests, which weren’t the sword.

Yaz, like Inaki, was an avid reader, and they chatted about their favorite books. Both of them loved a particular series of books called the Travels of Ilan Tedron, a series of short stories about a man from beyond the Province visiting the Province, and going around to different towns and looking at the eccentricities there. Since crossing out of the Province through the mountains was so difficult, the thoughts of Ilan Tedron were one of the only sources of knowledge for the people of the Province, to the world outside.

“Anyways, it’s been a fun chat, but I’ve stalled enough. I now have to go and discuss whether Farrow should kill you.”

“Should he?” Inaki said.

“NOt sure,” Yaz said, walking away through the gates of the garden, leaving Inaki in the presence of only Trish and Nilun.

“I don’t read books about the world beyond the Province, but I love Ertasian vodka,” Nilun said. “Maybe one day we’ll get their recipee.”

“Drunkard,” Trish said.

“You drank more than me last night,” Nilun said.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Trish said. “Anyways, I trust you won’t try to escape and will accept your death with grace, because we are leaving.”

Trish and Nilun walked out of the gate, they turned and locked it. The gate was too high for Inaki to climb, especially with his current skill.

Inaki was once again left alone, to sit with his own thoughts.