Marke found Zily sparing with the general in a private training yard. Since he was still barefoot, he waited just inside the doorway and watched. Despite his high stats and years of fighting experience, Marke found himself impressed by the swordplay the two women displayed. I wonder how many hours they have spent training swordplay and how that compares to the hours we’ve spent fighting in the tunnels. He wondered. Oh, interesting. Kente replied. I suppose we might come across as a brute since we have no formal training. The spar drew to a close with Zily disarmed and forced to the ground.
Marke applauded. “That was beautiful!” The two women gave him odd looks, so he stopped clapping and gave a small bow. “Apologies, striking hands together is a sign of appreciation where I am from, I didn’t consider that it might be different here.”
The general reached down a hand to help her daughter to her feet. “It is not very common among elves, but it is not offensive. I think we both failed to notice your observation and you caught us wrong-footed.”
Zily brushed herself off and retrieved her sword from where it had fallen. “Also, our style is not known for its beauty, so your ‘appreciation’ was not expected.” Zily didn’t seem bothered by her loss and smiled brightly.
Marke managed to not make a fool of himself under the effect of that smile. He smiled back. “Truthfully, I have no sword training and I only saw sword fighting a few times before the tunnels.” …in movies. He added internally.
The two women shared a wry look. The general spoke next. “Did the head mage find you?” She asked.
Marke sighed and nodded. “She could not set aside her suspicions and thinks I am being misled by an evil spirit.” Marke shrugged. “It is understandable, but it means that I need to look elsewhere.” Marke rubbed his chin. “I don’t know the word. Is there a magic leaning place where I could ask for help?”
The general nodded. “The
Zily bowed to the general. “I will gladly guide Foreign Hero Dingo through elven lands.”
Marke wasn’t sure what to think. He had already taken Zily from her duties at her fort for an entire week. Kente was silent and Marke figured he was sulking after the interaction with Nern and wouldn’t return for hours. Marke hesitated before asking a question. “Is this… a normal thing to do?”
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The general laughed. “Zily’s little fort will be fine without her.” Marke didn’t miss the angry frown that crossed Zily’s face for a moment. “With the sword you showed Zily, you would be welcomed anywhere as a hero, but an elven guide will make things much smoother for you.” The general said.
Marke didn’t fell completely comfortable with that explanation, but Zily gave him a small nod, so he tried to graciously accept. “Thank you, General Hero Lierin.” He said with a bow.
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Marke had to wait till the next day for his boots to be ready and supplies prepared. Kente was keeping to himself. Marke figured that Kente was having a difficult time dealing with the slow progress they were making towards solving Kente’s Priority One issue of not having a body of his own. When Marke met Zily near one of the gates, he had to hold himself back from laughing. Zily noticed his amusement and raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
Marke walked forward and lifted one of the horses with both arms. “I don’t know how to ride a horse. Is this correct?” He asked innocently. The surrounding guards burst out in loud laughter once they got past their shock at Marke’s strength. The stable master was not amused and gave Marke an angry lecture while Zily stood back with her hands over her mouth, struggling so hard not to laugh that tears were running down her face. Marke only got the lecture to end when he explained that he had a skill to detect how much damage he did to something and that he knew for certain that the horse had been unharmed. The stable master banned Marke from riding any of the horses from the fort, claiming that Marke was too large and the available horses couldn’t carry him. Marke didn’t mind, though he had to convince Zily to ride instead of joining him on the ground. The general’s arrival was the signal for a more formal send off, and the pair left through the gate.
“So,” Zily began the conversation soon after the gate closed behind them. “You can’t use a sword, you can’t ride a horse, you can’t sew your own clothes, and you are terrible at reciting poetry. What did you do before you ended up in the tunnels?”
Marke laughed at the teasing. “Hmm, you could say that I used… things, and if the things did not work correctly, I sent them back to be fixed. If the things worked correctly, I approved them for sale.” He said.
Zily’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Why would an artisan not test their own work? Were you their master?”
“Ah, ‘test’, thank you for that word.” Marke said. “I was not the master. The artisans would often test their own work, but the things were very complicated and required multiple artisans. Many times, the artisans working on something never spoke and just read notes about the portions of work from other artisans in order to make their own work fit correctly. I would test things that had been worked on by dozens of artisans, sometimes for years.”
QA sounds like insanity without a background in assembly-line manufacturing. Kente piped up.
“I admit that I am no artisan, but that sounds like a terrible way to work.” Zily commented, still looking confused.
Marke laughed again. “It was terrible sometimes. I do not often miss it.” Marke picked up a few stones and began to juggle as he walked.