Clack, clack. Wooden swords and boards clashed like music amidst the waves of wind patterned across the dancing Whispergrass and Gorosi stalks around us. Kantax and I paused our footwork to breathe. At least I needed to, but she hadn’t broken a sweat.
I turned 19 Mondonian cycles last week – but on Earth I’d be a little over 12 years of age.
“Kid, real fights don’t just stop, y’know.” she said.
“Then why’d you stop?” I complained back.
Kantax smirked, blindfolded as she was. She dropped her shield and gripped her wooden sword with both hands. She took a few steps aside, then forwards.
Time slowed. The gap shrunk. I backed up against the side of the house, cornered. Sensing this, she lined up her classic overhead strike feint which could be followed up with any move. One of many lethal longsword maneuvers that Kantax has mastered.
I’ve had my ass kicked this way for ages so I preemptively dashed forward, reinforcing my shield arm with my right, and bashed Kantax’s raised sword as hard as I could before the feint could begin – clotheslining Kantax right in the neck with my wooden sword.
“Ahhck- you little shit!” she uttered with a gag.
“I did it..? I did it! I finally scored a hit!”
“You sure showed her, princess!” Arsalan cheered.
“Shut it, leaf-lover!” Kantax erupted as she took the blindfold off. Both of us took a real breather.
“Good hit kid, from now on the blindfold stays off. You’re good at dancing dear but that was the first time I’ve ever seen you push it. Not that I saw anything, actually.”
“What if you didn’t hold back anymore?” I asked.
“Hah, you wouldn’t wake up tomorrow, dear.”
“What if I scored without your blindfold on?”
“Nah, I’d win.” She said, in full confidence.
We laughed and called it a day, heading back inside for an early dinner and some of the usual catching up. While preparing something special for them, I talked about how wonderfully my tutorial sessions have gone as of late. Mateo has been thorough with the essays that I asked him to review.
He’s also teaching someone else; Rozabela – a quiet girl who helped in bullying Mateo the day I confronted their shenanigans years ago. She’s close friends with Pipra. I told him that if he could teach, then that meant he understood his assignments.
I’ve had years to read their entire library, so I did. Mikhailo would almost always bring a new book or text for us to engage with whenever he got back.
For my other personal projects, I’ve used that machete with a saw on the spine to great effect in my woodworking. I think most woodworking projects boil down to either cutting and fastening. Nails are a little expensive and you can’t buy screws, but it makes sense considering it’s all handmade. I typically do various reliable wood joints and reinforce them with hand-drilled holes which I’d plug with wooden pins and dowels, generously applying resin throughout.
Both Arsalan and Kantax actually found joy in occasionally joining me in the equipment shed where Bestatzo was kept. Arsalan roughly explained the refined recurve bow crafting techniques he saw a few centuries ago in the northern mainland. Useful techniques, but difficult to mass-produce I think.
Kantax told me she wanted to see me improve, so she surveyed a lot of the workers and helped me design new ploughs and seed drills to help improve crop yields.
I myself have iteratively crafted several repeating crossbows, and even a few prototype magazine-fed bows too. Shorter bolts were easier and cheaper to make, too. They’ve made hunting much easier even for me, with the sights and consistent draw. But it wasn’t strong enough to take out big game like Arsalan’s elven bow could. I remembered how Viktor loved watching a ‘slingshot channel’ that featured an older guy making weapons out of plywood and rubber.
But, things have only worsened for Rokmuro. Trezoro is now the third most profitable town on the island. It might even be classed as a city now. But considering how unsafe the other ones have become, it’s no surprise.
Finally, I’ve ground up a large amount of Gorosi into a coarse flour, and it’s time to get cooking. Arsalan just finished washing himself, and Kantax simmered down by working on some embroidery on linen sheets people called “sudariomo” which are thin face towels. She rarely sweats during our spars, which almost always looked effortless for her – except today.
Hm, perfect. I know what dish I’ll serve this time, maybe it’ll brighten their week up! They’ve seemed a little worried, lately.
I started with rendered fat into a seasoned cast iron pan, and added some lean cuts of meat from the market. The meat isn’t pork or beef, though pigs and cows do exist here. I’m using rabbit meat today, and it was my suggestion years ago for us to invest in starting a rabbit farm, on top of various livestock.
They’re much more economical than the skinny local chicken breeds, and they’re easier to rear. Rabbits need less infrastructure and are quieter too. I brought one to the butcher’s earlier, and the leftover meat is what’s cooking on this pan.
Now it’s time to add some butter for flavor and to help make sure it doesn’t stick, along with some salt. The savory aroma fills the room, with an audible sizzle. Using a large wooden spoon, I stirred the meat as it fried in the fat – along with some chopped mushrooms. The lovely Maillard reaction browned the buttered meat beautifully.
“Doesn’t that smell good?” I asked them.
They ignored me, as their eyes locked onto the stovetop. Doubt they can wait much longer. Kantax hasn’t moved an inch and her sewing project sat still on her lap. Arsalan hasn’t finished putting on his clothes, and remains shirtless with all of his lean, stunning muscles in full display – his eyes closed to better experience the scent. Kantax would normally holler at him and gush about his physique, but I can see the hunger in her eyes; a hunger that wasn’t for him.
“I’m almost done, just hold on!” I assured.
I strained the first batch and began the next. Lovely cubes of crispy meat. From my satchel popped out a jar of goat’s milk, and some goat cheese which I’d cut into strips for frying. Some minced vegetables, followed by chopped onions all sauted to perfection.
When it was all finished, I set aside the iron pan and took out a small copper pot. Milk poured from the jar into the pot, and began bubbling fervently. I remember cooking for my family in the old world, the kids always loved deep fried stuff and Viktor always enjoyed the heartier yet fattier meals.
“Mhmm, hm-hum hum, la hum dum..”
It’s going well. While the coarsely ground gorosi was poured and stirred into the boiling milk to create a kind of porridge, the two got up and stood over by my shoulders to inspect the process of adding various herbs. I’m thankfully taller than most kids my age, but these two still cast some fairly intimidating shadows.
“..Quite an odd song you’re singing.” Arsalan said.
“Yeah, never heard anything like it, dear.”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” I deflected. “Enjoying yourselves?”
Kantax was frozen, seemingly numb. Arsalan leaned over the pans I set aside and gracefully wafted the aroma onto himself.
“Looks, and smells incredible, princess.”
“Yeah, never seen this dish before, dear.”
I tapped the wooden spoon onto the edge of the pot.
“It’s a recipe I uh, read about! It’s called Banush.”
“You already cook better than your mom.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Nah, I’d – actually yeah, honestly. Both of you do.”
They’d caught me humming one of my favorite 80’s songs. I didn’t notice myself. I’d sing while I cooked back then, so I need to keep that in check. Maybe. I mean, as long as I don’t sing the lyrics then it’s probably safe enough, right? It’s only music.
“Yep, it’s ready!” I announced, proudly.
The porridge thickened enough, so I split it into three wooden bowls. Outstanding. The crispy meat went on top, and the goat cheese added a tangy tartness in place of the sour cream I normally used in this recipe back then. Man, I loved making Banush for my family.
We paired it with some light beer in some cups, and took our first taste test with slices of Brila bread. Kantax took one spoonful and took it in silence. Arsalan had one bite, and then started quickly gunning down the rest, only pausing to savor and express things.
Kantax took her second spoonful in, and gave me a glance before peering away out of the window.
“Mhm, this turned out alright.” I said.
Her voice shook. “Alright? Dear, this is lovely.”
“Thanks, but you should eat before it gets cold!”
Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her voice began to crack. “I’m sorry for always cooking bland meals. This isn’t even expensive to make. Other than Arsalan, nobody has ever really cooked nice meals for me. And now, to think my little girl would make something this wonderful.”
She told me about her rough ascetic diet during her service, they only ate what little they could forage and what they could loot or bring along. Kantax took some more endearing bites, while Arsalan leaned back satisfied with his fare.
“Great. I had a feeling you two’d like it. I made more for us to have tomorrow. I’ll save the rest in a jar so it doesn’t go bad. We can heat it up later. I’m happy you guys like it.”
Kantax bashed the table, and stood.
“Listen! We need to open up a place that serves stuff like this. It would blow all those alehouses, taverns, and inns away! Our farm could supply it for the most part. Sal, hear me out!” she rambled.
“Only if Lasita oversees the cooks, then maybe.”
“I’d love to, if you think it’s all feasible.”
I took away the bowls after they finished eating, and placed the remaining Banush into a large jar for tomorrow.
“Seriously, imagine how popular it-”
“Anne, hold on. Wait.” Arsalan stopped her.
“It would sell better than fresh bread!” she insisted.
“No, literally shut up for a moment.”
Arsalan dragged Kantax to the front door. The excitement from the room sapped away as everything grew still and quiet. Faint footsteps from a large group outside, began rumbling ever closer.
“Hear that?” he whispered to her.
“Uh-huh, it’s gotta be him again.”
“Might be those from last week. Seylas, right?”
“Uhh, the jar’s sealed now. What’s up?” I asked.
Kantax ran up to me and ushered me further into the kitchen, all the way to the pantry. She opened the cellar hatch and forced me down. “Stay quiet and stay there.” she ordered, firmer than anything she’s said in recent memory.
It’s more like a basement rather than a cellar, but we do keep barrels of whisky and began distilling some ourselves last month. It’s cold, dark, cramped, and a little bit damp in here. Candlelight seeps through the cracks between the floorboards above.
“Anne – tax.. Kantax, wait!”
“I’m getting the fucking kit. Buy me time.”
“Please! Ugh, they’re here.”
I knocked onto the trapdoor from below.
“Who? Hello? Who’s here?” I begged to ask.
Excuse me? Did something happen while I’ve been out? Is this what they seemed so worried about for the past few days? I heard more footsteps outside, on top of Kantax moving frantically upstairs.
“You must stay quiet, princess.” Arsalan urgently whispered as he began pinching out all the candles. “Let us handle this.”
The house grew dark, and Kantax began walking down the staircase. I could hear the jittering of gear. It had to have been more than just the messer-style sword and shiny shield she kept upstairs. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the planks above – whereas she was always light on her feet. Normally, you could only ever hear her steps when she intended for you to hear them.
Ponderous stomping from her boots paraded from over the basement entrance near the pantry at the base of the stairs, straight towards the entrance. It was dark, so I decided to climb up the ladder and carefully raise the trapdoor slightly, barely enough for me to get vision towards the front door. Arsalan waited for Kantax there.
“Please love, let me handle it this time.” he begged.
“Yeah, try it again. We’ll see.” Kantax cynically replied.
Kantax stood by the door inside, leaving it open enough for me to see the torchbearing group outside. Several armed and armored individuals led a group of dozens, with some horse-drawn carriages following behind. This angle made it difficult to see.
One man in a bright purple outfit with a white sash going diagonally across his body, was mounted on horseback at the very front. They’re far enough to be blurry, so I pinched my fingers into making a pinhole shape for some focused visual clarity. The setting sun gradually darkened the view outside.
He had a burgonet helmet clutched under his left arm, while his right hand rested over the pommel of his sheathed saber as his horse galloped towards us. He had a few scars on his left cheek.
“Lunarkas! Out. Now.” The man called.
“What do you want with us, Seylas? We’ve already given you tribute last week,” Arsalan replied. “There isn’t much left to offer.”
Seylas nodded. I couldn’t see clearly but I could tell he wasn’t smug about any of this, as he kept his skittish mount in place.
“Ah yes but, there’s been a change of plans. So. You’re all coming with me. You know your farm isn’t worth the trouble, and we’re moving out. It’s finally happening.”
“Please!” Arsalan cried, walking over. “Is there no other way?”
“Take your kid too. Heard good things, and frankly I’m jealous. Both my wife and son are sickly, and care not for me.”
“I am sorry to hear that, friend, but please recons-”
“Really?” Kantax scorned. “I know exactly why they don’t.”
Seylas turned to her. “Kantax. Always nice to see you.”
“WELCOME, captain!” she thundered as she opened the door to step out and push Arsalan aside. With both hands on her hips, Kantax stood in stalwart opposition. “I see that your fancy warband has grown, Seylas. Nonetheless, leave. Before I make you.”
Seylas flinched for a moment and pondered.
“Lady, do NOT try to intimidate me. You’re no farmer and you know it. I know you better than anyone here, you’re a beast of war.”
“Then you should know you’re on our property.”
“Rokmuran breaches of contract have caused all this. We have no choice. Bands are springing up everywhere, and sooner or later others will sweep you off your feet. You’re better off with us.”
“Nah.” She taunted. “You’re the reason I retired.”
“You couldn’t even read until I taught you. I know what you do best. This false life you’re living can’t go on. Where’s your daughter?”
“She’s in Trezoro doing real, honest work. Unlike you. Leave.”
“Not without you two. A real healer is virtually impossible to come by anymore, and your reputation as a master swordstress precedes you. Real talent. Real talent that I need.” Seylas said.
Kantax hissed. “I’ll shove this real talent right up yours if you don’t leave by the count of five. And I’ll make you remember exactly why that reputation exists, too.”
“Five? Fine then. Five of you, go get ‘er.”
Seylas waved over to a small group beside him, and ordered them forwards. The shortest one, a stocky young man, seemed a little familiar from here.
“Madam Kantax, please!” the man pleaded.
“Ouro..? Where’s Jac? And your parents?”
“No, they all refused to join and ran off.”
“Well, I’ll refuse, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Captain Seylas’ patience grew thin, and waved his saber forward, then directly at Kantax.
“Time to wake up, Kantax! Take her down, or die with her.”
“Sending whelps today, are we?” she replied.
She got in a loose, carefree stance. Ouro readied his farmer’s sickle in fear, and the other brigands moved up; slowly encircling Kantax. Two spearmen, and two swordsmen. The spears began probing and poking towards her, keeping her at a distance.
Both swordsmen tried to come in for an attack. Kantax dashed to one and parried his blade with her shield, before bashing his face in with its rim. When he’d hit the ground, she already struck the next swordsman behind her with the opposite edge of the shield. It was just Ouro and the two spearmen left.
They backed off in fear, and she just walked up to each one of them. For the spearmen, she whacked one spearhead aside and clobbered him up close now that they were separate. The other spearman made a run for it. Ouro raised his sickle, shaking. She raised her sword arm for a strike, but just busted his belly with a shieldbash. He crumpled instantly.
Arsalan took a moment to check up on all the downed brigands for any serious injuries, but Kantax left little worth casting healing spells over. She took a pose and did a hair flip as a taunt.
“Eschaton, you’re up. Earn your keep.” Seylas commanded.
“With pleasure, captain.” a man with a stick and a wolf-hood revealed himself. His silver white hair, smooth pale skin, and bright red irises stuck out even from this far. Kantax mentioned such wolf-hoods before; Marbordo’s mage corps.
His walking stick suddenly stretched up into a full-length staff with a yellow crystal cresting its top end. The fields of Gorosi began to shake and glow as several fireballs began popping up over the mage.
“Steel yourself, peasant!” the spellcaster yelled. “Die.”
Kantax weaved and danced between the fireballs. Using her sword, she sliced some of the fireballs into smoke, and parried a few others towards the sky with her shield. Some of those she dodged ended up hitting the broadside of our home. I lowered the hatch to keep myself hidden better as the scene lit up.
Kantax fumed. “Watch where you’re firing that, you wolf-headed bastard! You might hit something, or someone!”
“Oh? Right, right.” Eschaton smirked, as he charged up more fireballs, but this time merging them into one large incinerator. It was slower, but would devastate anything it hit. Kantax saw him winding the aim of the spell with his hand movements, and acted.
She quickly changed her grip on the sword, now one-handing it by the crossguard – and she propelled it forward like a javelin.
But it was too late. Eschaton had already fired the spell. She was prepared to deflect the massive fireball into the sky by angling her shield. However, the spell wasn’t aimed at her.
The large sword flew right past Seylas and hit Eschaton in the shoulder, causing him to shudder and scream. But before his blood could pour, the spell rolled out and barreled straight towards Arsalan who was in the middle of treating Ouro’s bruising.
“No!” Kantax cursed, leaping into its path.
She caught the enormous fireball with her shield tucked over her chest. With no ground to brace herself onto mid-jump, she couldn’t deflect it away. The spell carried so much force that it pushed her towards our home. Embers spored all over the fields.
Her approaching body eclipsed the blast as the explosive pressure shattered her shield, slamming her into the half-open front door – ripping it clean off its hinges. Flames spewed all across the kitchen. Her body flew further, landing right on my trapdoor.
The hatch struck my head, causing me to fall down the ladder. The impact left a crack under the door. I got up and tried pushing against the trapdoor but Kantax was too heavy. It became still and silent, as blood dripped between the boards, and onto me.
“Anne!” Arsalan shrieked, almost choking.
His footsteps raced above towards us from the front door. I tapped the boards to let him know I was safe. “What’s going on?” I whispered.
Arsalan fumbled his hands over Kantax. “She breathes. Thanks be. I will get them to leave, but you must then run as far away as possible. Stay quiet.”
“What? Where to? Please, please don’t leave me, too.”
“..too? Anywhere away from here. Leave Rokmuro if you can. We’ll find you someday, I promise. We love you, princess. Now, I must get them to leave before the flames trap you here.”
For a moment the panels under Kantax glowed green – a healing spell. He raised her body and walked off. I propped up the hatch and watched him carry Kantax over to the door. She was slumped over his arms, but I could see tears streaming down her cheek, lit the scattered flames like how her red hair glowed. A trail of blood was left in her wake, as shards of metal from her shield had razored up new wounds over her arms, only barely sealed by Arsalan’s healing magic.
Kantax slowly opened her eyes, and began twitching her fingers. She painstakingly turned to me, revealing a part of her face that’s freshly burned. She mustered a bit of strength to wave. Her teary eyes met mine, and then she quietly mouthed a few last words.
Mi amas vin, mia kara.