Greil turned out to be a kind man, if a little stern. Rusk took a liking to him even with all Greil’s outdated jokes. And Greil kept his word. He did give Rusk a map, and a condition along with it.

“You’ll have to give it back someday. After you’ve earned your title officially, of course.”

So they travelled. Greil could do things Rusk had never even subconsciously imagined. Once, while they were on the road after the monster fly swarm was taken care of, Rusk collapsed with a fever, and with a wave of his hand Greil simply removed it.

“I’m better,” said Rusk in shock. He stared at his hands. “No more shakes. Not queasy either. How’d you do that?”

“Expertly,” replied Greil with a mischievous grin.

“Hah. Hah.”

“You could say I stole the sickness from you and stored it away.”

“Away where?”

“Not the Elva, although there are similarities.”

“Then where?”

“A place which is not a place and can be called upon later.”

Rusk never got any less cryptic answers than that. Greil seemed to take joy in his companion’s confusion.

He also had a remarkable capacity for adversity. No matter what strangeness they encountered or what hardships they faced, Greil always kept moving forward. Kept on going, even when things were very bleak. On one occasion, after they had happened to acquire a horse from a thankful villager along their journey, the horse suddenly collapsed on the forest path. When Greil tried to heal it, he sighed and made a respectful gesture, the kind one makes in the presence of the dead.

“What happened?” asked Rusk. The horse had been fine up until that point as far as he could discern.

“Bad luck,” said Greil. He plucked their packs off the carcass, which now that Rusk was paying attention he realized was decomposing extraordinarily quickly.

“Bad luck caused that?”

“Luck is the cause of many things. One might say it’s part God.”

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“I don’t believe in gods.”

“Then what do you believe in?”

“Hard work. Cleverness. Preparation.”

“But surely you didn’t always place your faith in such human forces.”

“Maybe not, but I do now.”

“What changed?”

“I met a girl.”

Greil laughed approvingly.

“I suppose this means you do believe in godly forces,” said Rusk.

“And what else would you call the Elva? Magic? The forces of luck?”

Rusk shrugged. These things just were. He had had no need to categorize them before. Maybe the Elva, but he had met a physical being from there, so Rusk had taken to assuming it was a place. A mystical place, a place misunderstood, but a place nonetheless. Just like Sanctuary was a place. Though he had to concede he didn’t think it would be possible for anyone human to physically travel into the realm of the Elva. Reach inside, sure, but never cross entirely through.

Greil stored the body of the horse away in that place that was not a place he had spoken of, they shouldered their packs with Rusk adjusting the placement of his bow, and then they were off on the road again.

The landscape changed enough for the villages and settlements to transform into actual towns, complete with stonework or brick buildings and paved roads instead of dirt ones. The first true inn Rusk and Greil entered kicked them out immediately, before they had even asked for a room.

“Not very welcoming, are they?” said Rusk.

“It would appear not.”

“Get out of here, Greil!”

Rusk and Greil both spun around to face the young woman who had yelled in their direction.

She wore a dress made from blue cotton that came down past her knees and her expression was pure fury.

“Friend of yours?” asked Rusk, pointing absentmindedly.

“We don’t allow Heroes here,” said the angry pretty woman. She was a looker, with a perfect nose and full lips, but to Rusk she simply couldn’t compare to Mandy. That probably had something to do with her attitude. Rusk couldn’t deny her outward attractiveness, and his body responded.

He turned away, more annoyed with himself than bashful.

“Loretta,” said Greil in an elongated manner. He widened his arms at her as if expecting a hug.

She spit in his face.

Rusk winced on Greil’s behalf.

“We don’t allow Heroes here,” said Loretta again with more conviction. She crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Least of all you.”

Greil wiped the spit off his face. Rusk looked between the two of them. He couldn’t formulate a theory on how they knew each other besides Greil’s Hero title, but he sensed there was more to it than just that. There had to be, with the way Loretta was staring Greil down as if he had beaten her pet dog to death and then left it out somewhere in public to rot. People didn’t glare that intensely unless there was some serious baggage between them.

“So what did you do?” asked Rusk.

Greil turned innocently in his direction and shrugged equally as innocently.

Rusk squinted at him.

Greil pinched a tight, toothless smile.

“He dumped his garbage here,” said Loretta. “And who are you exactly? Why are you travelling with this has been?”

“He’s not a has been if his skills speak for anything,” said Rusk.

“Oh his skills!” Loretta threw her arms in the air. “His skills are the problem! Don’t you ever wonder where all that stuff he takes goes?”

As a matter of fact, Rusk had wondered that. But Greil had always given an ambiguous answer whenever he was asked.