I was greeted by the commander of the governor's personal guard, accompanied by five other soldiers. As I blinked right in front of the gate, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Arnild greeted me with a smile. Dramatic entrances always appealed to me.

Clad in dark casual robes, I had added subtle illusionary flourishes. The robes cascaded around me, creating an illusion of gentle movement, and I had concealed my missing eye with a black band of cloth.

The soldiers seemed on edge upon seeing me, their hands instinctively reaching for their sword hilts. Only Arnild remained composed. I bowed politely to him, "Hello, Commander. You wanted to see me."

Arnild nodded, "Yes, the governor wishes to reward you personally and has granted you access to the armory. You may choose any item you find in there, but only one."

Frowning, I expressed my gratitude, "I appreciate the gesture, but why me? Surely others have done as much as I have?"

Arnild motioned for me to follow, and we walked towards the castle, flanked by the soldiers. The castle bustled with activity, as servants hurriedly worked to clean up the place. It mirrored the rest of Creston, and I was genuinely impressed by how quickly people were recovering.

As we walked, Arnild explained, "That may be true, but you were directly involved in the governor's rescue. Whether it's a coincidence or not, the fact remains. You warned us, and that too is a fact. You did so after losing an eye due to our negligence. This is the least we can do." He maintained his gaze ahead, never looking at me directly.

I smiled slightly, "I suppose when you put it that way... Perhaps one item is selling me short."

Arnild's eyes snapped to me, and I offered him my best rogueish smile. The burly man sighed, "Gods... Fine, I'll grant you an additional item, then."

Grinning, I responded, "Pleasure doing business with you." Arnild grunted in annoyance.

I was led to a vault beneath the castle, passing through massive wooden doors that were at least half a meter thick, strong enough to withstand a bomb blast.

The vault itself was a circular room, filled with various valuable-looking objects. Paintings, furniture, jewelry, clothing—and what I was seeking: weapons.

During the conflict, I had come to realize my own foolishness. I couldn't afford to fight barehanded, and even a staff had its limitations. I needed something... lethal. The thought unsettled me, but I also recognized that I had reached a point where a pacifistic approach was no longer viable. I needed to be stronger, more efficient, and a proper weapon would enable me to achieve that.

I glanced over the several racks of weapons, purposefully disregarding the gem-adorned swords, the golden axe tucked away in the corner, and the shiny-looking knives. Instead, my attention was drawn to a pair of long daggers on a rack nearby.

Examining them closely, I noted their simplicity with worn leather grips and plain black sheaths. Arnild joined me and observed the weapons. "Those would be a good choice, Harlequin, and they come as a set," he commented.

Nodding, my focus still fixed on the daggers, I inquired, "Are they enchanted?"

Arnild shook his head. "No, but they were crafted by a master weaponsmith. The steel comprises an incredible number of layers, granting them both flexibility and durability. These daggers are over a century old, David, and yet they remain sharp and unblemished."

Lost in contemplation, I continued to survey the vault. Amidst the other valuable items, I noticed a simple-looking short staff leaning against the wall in the corner. It appeared to be haphazardly made, resembling a raw branch that happened to be remarkably straight. Initially, I had intended to choose a bladed weapon, but there was something about this staff that spoke to me. Walking over to it, I stretched out my hand, but Arnild made a sound of caution.

Raising an eyebrow, I glanced at him, and he shook his head. "That item... It's a little strange," he warned.

Grinning mischievously, I responded, "So am I!" Determinedly, I firmly grasped the staff, and suddenly, I found myself transported elsewhere. Recognizing the familiar sensation, I let out a sigh. "Better show yourself, spirit. Let's not play around, yeah?"

No response came, leaving me surrounded by silence in the darkness. Although there was some light present, allowing me to make out the semblance of trees, or perhaps their shadowy forms.

In an instant, someone materialized beside me, causing me to jump slightly. Only when the dark smoky figure let out a hearty laugh did my annoyance replace surprise. "Bloody hell, Grim... Could you warn me next time?"

Grim, wearing my own animated mask that displayed a wide, toothy smile with black fangs, turned it toward me. "What would the fun be in that, illustrious partner?"

Shaking my head, I dismissed his reply. "Never mind. Now, why isn't the spirit answering?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Grim peered into the darkness and chuckled. "It is there, but it's a simple spirit, unlike one such as myself."

"What do you mean by 'simple'?" I inquired, perplexed.

Grim shrugged. "Just as I said—simple. It lacks will or motive, personality or purpose. It possesses only its nature."

Frowning, I found the revelation somewhat disheartening. "That seems a little sad. But why is it like this? Did something happen to it?"

Grim shook his head. "No, there are many types of spirits. This one is a primal spirit, attuned to a specific aspect. In this case, it's growth and decay."

Uncertain about how to process this information, I set aside that matter for now. The more pressing question at hand demanded attention. "I see. Will it form a contract with me? I don't want to force a spirit into servitude."

Grim scoffed. "You've done that with all the other spirits using that portal of yours, so why not this one?"

I was about to argue his point when I realized its validity. While it could be seen as forced servitude, the spirits had always appeared so willing to fulfill my desires that it didn't feel that way. Glancing at Grim, I acknowledged his perspective. "You're right. I hadn't really considered it, but..."

Grim interrupted me, his voice firm. "Don't dwell on it now. It's not slavery, partner. Each of us chooses whether to serve, and since we are eternal, we lose very little by doing so. Whether it's one year or a hundred years, it matters little to us. Utilize those of us who are willing to be used, David Wendell, and stop worrying about such things."

I still hesitated, prompting Grim to turn on me, his eyes narrowing. "I quite enjoy serving as your shadow partner and wish to continue doing so. Aethoria is not a forgiving place, however, and you need to stop trying to be nice. Kill when necessary, spare when mercy holds value. But whatever you do, stop applying your old world's morals and values to this one. They do not match up."

I smiled at his assertiveness. "You're unusually talkative today, aren't you?"

Grim shrugged, his demeanor serious. "You need to hear this, and I needed to say it. That's all."

Sighing, I nodded in agreement. "Perhaps you're right about all of it. I'll think about it..." I quickly corrected myself. "...Or not think about it. In any case, we're here with this spirit. Will it be useful?"

Grim nodded confidently. "It will be. It possesses an interesting nature. Bond with it, and I will ensure it remains under control. However, take the daggers as well, just in case."

Grinning at his not at all reassuring words, I replied, "You fill me with confidence. But alright, how do I go about it?"

Grim stepped forward, extending his hand. From his palm, a stream of dark smoke leapt into the darkness. "My master calls to you, spirit of growth. My master demands your obedience, spirit of decay. Come forth, serve, and do the master's bidding."

Each word made me cringe. Did Grim deliberately choose those words? It felt uncomfortably close to slavery, but I was already committed. I sensed another presence, distinct from Grim's inner connection but similar to having a bird perched on your arm—a connection yet separate. The difference marked the hierarchy between the two spirits.

Grim nodded at me, and the darkness began to dissipate. "It is done, Master," he declared.

Frowning, I quickly corrected him, "None of that, Grim. We are partners."

Grim laughed, his voice echoing in the darkness. "It is a term of respect, not supplication."

As I felt myself being pulled back into reality, I let out a sigh. "Are you sure?" I asked.

Grim chuckled in his characteristic maniacal way. "I am, Master Wendell."

Returning to my own reality, I found myself clutching the staff. I knew there would be a notification waiting for me, but since I hadn't opened them since the battle, I wasn't about to do so now. I needed some time alone before diving into them. Uncertain about what I would find, I anticipated there would be quite a few messages awaiting my attention.

I glanced at Arnild, who was staring at me with annoyance. He walked over and shook his head. "Of course you managed to tame it... Why doesn't that surprise me?"

I flashed him what I was starting to consider my signature roguish grin. "Of course I did. I'm pretty good with spirits after all." There was no need for him to know that it was actually Grim who had accomplished it. Since Grim was bonded to me, it still counted, sort of.

Arnild looked irritated but nodded. "Fine, that will be your item then. Let's-"

I interrupted him, reminding him, "You promised me an item too, remember?"

Arnild's right eye twitched. "I suppose I did."

I gestured towards the daggers. "Those daggers, perhaps?"

Arnild took a long time to respond, clearly struggling with his decision. Finally, he relented and nodded. "Fine... take them."

Grinning, I thanked him cheerily and walked over to the daggers. As I leaned the staff against the wall, it unexpectedly split in two. I gaped at it in dismay for a brief moment before it transformed into flexible strands of wood, wrapping around my forearms. My eyes widened, and I marveled at the staff now enveloping my arms protectively. "Was that you, Grim?" I asked internally.

The spirit laughed in my mind. "Nice trick, eh?"

I couldn't help but agree. I glanced at Arnild, who was staring at me with a neutral expression. I shrugged and smiled at him. Then I grabbed the daggers, opened my robe, attached one to each side of my belt, and concealed them under the fabric.

Arnild nodded curtly. "I believe we're just about done then?"

I nodded. "I suppose we are."

Returning to the house, I found the others waiting for me. Lyra seemed impressed with my new items, while Isabel rolled her eyes and remarked, "Of course you managed to get yourself a spirit weapon. You know, David, some of us spend our whole lives chasing items like that."

I grinned at her comment. "Must be my roguish charm, eh?"

Lyra nodded with a grin of her own, but Isabel looked slightly disgusted. "Or perhaps an unsightly amount of luck."