Ferene walked the road, barely paying attention to her surroundings. More than that, she barely paid attention to herself. Her feet hurt, but she ignored that. Her stomach ached for food, but she ignored that. She trembled with every step, unsure of when she last slept. Eating, sleeping, or taking a break wouldn't bring Cerise back. Yenra’s face floated in her memory, the glare accusing her, judging her. She didn’t know how long she had been walking. A week? Two?

Something knocked her down, and she lay in the dirt for a moment before slowly pushing herself up. She needed to get back to Ettsgras. Taradira was there, but more importantly Velan was there. She wanted to see him. She had saved him, once. He had been kind to her, even after seeing her kill people, even after seeing her fail to save Amelia. If she couldn't go to Rilya at least she could go to Velan.

“Get off the road, you idiot!” Someone yelled at her, pushing her to the side. There were people running past her, in the opposite direction. One of them had knocked her over the first time, and now another shoved her aside, almost sending her down again. Stumbling, she managed to stay upright, lifting her head to look and see what was happening.

Smoke drifted into the sky in front of her. The town down the road burned. Dozens of people were running down the path, towards her. Ferene felt her blood pumping despite her exhaustion. She grabbed the next person to pass close enough.

“What's happening?” She asked. Her voice was rough, her throat dry. How many days had it been since she last spoke, since she last drank?

“Mercenaries. We hired them to protect us, but they started hurting people. Mayor tried to tell them to leave, and they set half the town on fire. Killed him and strung him up in the town square. We ran. You should too.”

Letting the young man go, Ferene focused on the scene ahead of her. With purpose, she strode forward, drawing her sword as she went. The incoming people broke before her, now, moving out of her way. By the time around three dozen of them had run past, there were no more. Ferene could see the burning buildings.

Her head was working properly, now. Heading into a group of mercenaries, of unknown number, was not a good choice. She did not care right now, though. She wanted to hurt them, or hurt herself. It was not the same thing she used to feel. Maybe this was how Linara felt when they had fought each other. Her hands tightened around her sword.

Just as she was thinking of ways to approach and possibly only engage a few at a time, armored men started running towards her, weapons drawn. They were screaming. Ferene cut down one that lunged for her, his attack wildly off-center. Another swung an axe, and Ferene avoided the attack and cut him across the legs, sending him tumbling to the ground. Then the rest, like the villagers, were past her. They were not turning back. She spun, throwing herself into a run of her own, chasing them down. The first two kept trying to run, making them easy targets. The third turned, blocking her first attack, but stumbled, falling to the ground. Ferene stabbed the man through his throat before moving to the last one. This one, a woman, stopped, falling to her knees and throwing down her weapon.

“Did you burn the village?” She hardly recognized her own voice.

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t burn nothin. I didn’t touch those women. I jus-“

“Did you stop the others from touching the women? From burning the village? From killing the mayor?” Ferene knelt down next to the mercenary, staring into her eyes. “Did you watch and laugh as innocent people were hurt?” How many times had Ferene seen people do just that?

“I didn’t laugh, I just…I just stayed quiet.”

“Kill her or I’ll do it.” A voice from behind Ferene said. She turned, seeing a Hatharen walking down the road, dressed in human clothes, a sword in his hand. Standing up, she faced him, raising her own sword.

He paused, his eyes going to her weapon. “Where did you get that sword?” He asked. When Ferene didn’t respond, he pointed his own weapon at her. “Answer me.”

The flourish he used drew her eyes to his sword, and she noticed the crossguard of his weapon was not standard. Two forward-facing spikes extended from it, matching the ones that Relgren showed Ferene on her own weapon. “A dying man gave it to me.” She said. She could hear the woman behind her scrambling away, but her eyes were locked on the Hatharen in front of her.

“That is a weapon of the Knights of Resh, an order I was told is dead.”

“He told me he was the last of them.”

“And how did he die?”

“I killed him.” Ferene said.

The Hatharen lunged at her, moving far faster than she expected. He wasn’t anywhere near the size of Taradira, or Sathar, but he was still tall enough to tower over Ferene, and he swung his sword, which was nearly the same as hers, with only one hand. Ferene blocked the first attack, but he smoothly moved into another swing, and a third, driving her back. When she finally knocked his weapon to the side, he twisted, delivering a kick to her chest.

Stumbling backwards, Ferene managed to avoid falling. “Why don’t you fight back?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t kill anyone that didn’t deserve it.”

“The man you killed?”

Ferene nodded, blocking another series of attacks, then twisting out of the way of a kick, only to have him slap her in the face. It stung. He was toying with her. “He made me promise to…” She trailed off, lowering her sword. “To stop doing what evil people told me to do, to kill their leader, to run away, to live a better life.”

The Hatharen stopped and frowned at her. “Did you?”

“I tried my best.”

Sheathing his sword at his waist, he laughed. “Resh, if you were here to see this, what would you tell me to do?”

Ferene stared at the strange Hatharen, confused, but slung her own weapon onto her back.

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

He frowned at her, then smiled. “I’ll give you something to eat.”

Following him back to a campsite, Ferene found herself exhausted, each step heavier than the last. The physical exertion after so many days of neglect catching up to her. When they finally arrived she fell backwards, sitting down hard.

“Here, eat this.” He said, pushing something into her hand. Ferene quickly ate it, barely able to taste whatever it was before swallowing.

She ate a second, then a third, before her body tensed, her stomach tightening. Ferene leaned to the side and vomited, spitting up chunks of whatever he had fed her and very little else. “No meat.” She managed to say, wiping her mouth.

“One of those, then.” She found him handing her a piece of hard bread, which she quickly ate. The taste of her bile was strong, but she managed to keep it down. He gave her a second, then a third, breaking bits off a square he held. After the fourth, he handed her what was left of it and let her eat it on her own. “It’s dangerous to neglect yourself like that. You’d die before going into hibernation.”

She looked up at him, blinking, as he knelt next to her, and nodded. “So, what’s your story?” He asked.

Ferene decided to remain silent, not wanting to respond, but then remembered something. She pulled her dagger out of its sheath, turning it around and handing it over.

His eyes lit up as he took it, examining both sides of the blade. “I didn’t get to look at the other one of these I saw up close. That is interesting. Hello, Ferene. My name is Grathen.”

Holding out her hand, Ferene waited until he handed it back before she nodded. “Thank you for the food.”

“You’ll need more. Stay with me for a bit. You don’t want to tell me about yourself, that’s fine. You probably aren’t interested in my story, either. How about I tell you about that sword, and what it means?”

“How would you know?”

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“I was there when the Knights of Resh were first founded. Resh was more than just my best friend. You are the only thing that remains of his legacy, and I want you to understand what that means.”

Ferene nodded, and he handed her another square of bread.

“Resh was a soldier. He fought for his lord, defending their lands from a neighbor’s attack. When his lord ordered an attack in turn, Resh followed the order. He did what he was told, and won battle after battle. He grew close to the men who fought beside him, and they all trusted each other.”

“During one battle, they captured a small village. Resh and seven others forced the opposing soldiers out. Resh’s commander arrived after, finding them talking with the people of the village. He told Resh that their lord had ordered his soldiers to kill the people who lived under his opponent’s rule.”

“Resh refused, and his men stood with him. The commander brought another squad over, but Resh and his men said they would defend the people of the village. The other squad attacked anyway, and Resh killed them, then he killed the commander. He knew that he and his men could never return, so he told them that rather than fight for their lord, they would fight for a greater cause. To protect the weak from the strong that would take advantage of them. To seek out and remove the corruption and evil that lead to such acts. He vowed to kill his lord, and his men made the same vow. This is where the Knights of Resh first started, but they didn’t know it at the time.”

“Did Resh kill him?” Ferene asked.

“The conflict was small, with the lords having less than a hundred men each. Resh turned and marched back towards his home. Some of the other soldiers fought him, some joined him when they heard the story of what happened, and others just left, seeing too much risk in fighting for either side. He stormed his lord’s residence and killed the man. That is where his men dedicated themselves to him and his ideals, forming the Knights of Resh.”

Ferene nodded, drinking from the wooden cup Grathen loaned her. His camp was set up next to a well, and he demanded she drink water while she listened to his story. “So are you going to tell me how to be a Knight of Resh?”

Grathen let out a long sigh, his face fallen. “If the order faded away, I see no reason to restore it. I loved Resh, and I kept training knights for hundreds of years after he passed away. Just as he is now resting, his legacy can do the same. I want you to know the history of the sword you carry, but you only need to carry the weight of the sword, not the weight of the history. Live your own life, not one devised by a man thousands of years dead.”

Setting her cup down, Ferene drew her sword, resting the blade flat on top of her hands. “It can’t be that old, can it?” She asked, holding it out.

Leaning forward, Grathen took the weapon from her, inspecting it. “It might be a hundred years old, but it wouldn’t have come from the height of the order, much less a time when Resh himself was alive. It is a good sword, and is in the style that the order used. I could make you a better one - a proper Hatharen weapon, from Hatharen steel. I’d need ore from the mountains, though, and I have no intention of going there. I’m looking for a Hatharen called Taradira.”

He handed the sword back to Ferene, and she returned it to her back, nodding. “I…should go to her.” She didn’t know what to make of Grathen. He was the one Linara had mentioned, but beyond that Ferene didn’t know what he wanted. His reaction to her at first had completely changed. He didn’t want anything from her, and told her the story for reasons she didn’t understand. What was she supposed to do with ancient history? “I think…I think I should also talk to her again. Taradira. Her and someone else.” Thinking of Taradira also brought up memories of Velan. He had comforted her before, and she wanted that again. She missed Rilya, but Yonthal was much further away. Taking a deep drink of water, she made up her mind. To Ettsgras, to see Velan and talk to Taradira.

“Sleep for the night, and then continue your journey in the morning.” He said, standing up, grabbing his sword. “Take some food with you when you leave, but leave everything else here. I don’t know how long until I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“The woman you didn’t kill. She got away during our fight, and you were more important.”

“Are you going to kill her?” Ferene asked.

“Do you think I shouldn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Ferene pushed herself to her feet, lessening the degree he was looking down at her. “Give her a chance. People make mistakes, and they deserve a chance to turn them around.”

“Like the one you were given?” Ferene nodded at his question. “From the man that you killed?” She hesitated, but nodded again, her jaw clenched. She had gotten a lot of people killed who she didn’t want to, that didn’t deserve it, even after her promise. Maybe the woman she had spared would do better than her. “Fine. I will still find her, and learn what she plans to do. I will not kill her unless she shows no desire to change.”

“Thank you.”

For a lone traveler, Grathen carried a lot of supplies. Ferene found a small pouch of the hard bread. Eating one, she tied the pouch to her belt and looked to the southeast. Somewhere there was the forest. She regretted not passing through it on her way back, but she had left Wellent heading west, and her aimless traveling had only taken her slightly south, from her guess. Looking south, she wondered where Ettsgras was. Until now, she had dragged her feet, and not kept her usual pace. How many days of traveling like that was it? She couldn’t remember, her mind was a blur.

Regardless, she walked south. The empty wilderness told her she was likely still in the independent lands, which could mean anything. She tried running, but didn’t make it far before feeling strain in her legs. The short sprints in the fight yesterday were probably all she could manage right now. Even after sleeping, her body registered the exhaustion of all the sleepless nights. Regardless, Ferene pushed forward, trying her best to move as she usually did, but found herself stopping for a break after a few hours of walking.

Grathen’s story had distracted her, made her think about what the man that gave her the sword wanted. As she sat down and broke off small pieces of bread to eat, the distraction came to an end.

Cerise was dead. Amelia was dead. Jall was dead. The three of them flashed before her eyes, along with the child she killed in the mine. The man on the road who had given her the sword. Her mother, smiling in a way that did nothing to hide her sadness. Her hopelessness.

Pushing herself to her feet, Ferene started running. She didn’t make it far before her legs started throbbing with each step, but she kept going. Her entire body hurt. She screamed, still running. Something caught her foot and she fell, slamming into the dirt.

Laying on the ground, she started crying.

Voices.

Ferene struggled to open her eyes. At some point, she had fallen asleep, in the same position she had landed. Two voices. The sky above was dark, a few stars shining down on her, poking through a canopy of leaves.

“Don’t touch it.”

“I wanna pull on those ears.”

“What if it wakes up and kills ya?”

Two men, from the sound of it. Their voices were not directly above her, but close. She rolled onto her back and sat up.

Footsteps, running away. Ferene turned in that direction, seeing one man, frozen in place, staring at her, while the other watched her curiously, adjusting the lantern in his land and shedding slightly light over the area. Pushing herself to her feet, Ferene took a step towards the two. One of them immediately fell over. “D-dun hurt me!” He said. His voice matched the second speaker. He looked to be noticeably younger than his companion.

Ferene didn’t know how long she had slept, but she felt hungry again. The younger man flinched as she pulled a piece of bread out of Grathen’s pouch. Upon seeing her take a bite, he relaxed.

“Going to Ettsgras. How far is it?”

He stared up at her, his expression beyond his eyes hard to make out in the starlight. “I never been to Ettsgras.”

“Do you know which way?”

“South.” The older one answered, helping the other to his feet.

Nodding, Ferene turned and looked in the direction he pointed, taking another bite of bread. She wished she had some fresh or even dried fruit, but the bread would have to do until she found something else.

“Dark out.”

“So?” Ferene asked, looking back at the men.

“Ya lucky we found ya. We were about to head back to our village. Ya look like ya could use a rest.”

Frowning, Ferene looked at the two of them, then at the bread she had been eating. She nodded.

“This way.” The older one said, turning in a different direction. The younger of the two quickly stepped ahead, putting some distance between himself and Ferene, but still looking back at her. Ferene followed at a distance, wary of the two.

“I’m Hallac, and this is my nephew, Elsham.”

“Ferene.” She introduced herself.

The three walked in silence for a time, before Hallac spoke up again. “Those swords seen a lot of use?” Frowning, Ferene made a noise of confirmation. They fell back into silence, Ferene finishing her bread. Ahead of Ferene, Hallac walked forward, the dim lantern swaying in his hand, casting dancing shadows through the woods. Elsham kept throwing glances back over his shoulder every few dozen steps, quick peaks at Ferene before looking forward again.

“Village is just up ahead.” Hallac eventually said.

Ferene saw light in the distance, probably some outdoor torches. As they emerged from the forest, a woman limped over towards them. “Hallac! Elsham! What were you doing out so late? Who is this?”

“Found this one asleep in the woods.” Hallac responded as Elsham walked over to the woman, casting another look back at Ferene. In the more proper light of the village torches, Ferene saw he was younger than she first thought.

“She looks dangerous. Got strange ears.” Rather than cautious, the woman looked contemplative. Ferene frowned again.

“Not sure about that, but she isn’t staying for long. Heading for Ettsgras. Let her sleep somewhere for the night.”

“Go get the cot for her. I’m going to sleep, now that you two are back. Stayed up too late worrying.” She said, before limping away, Elsham following her, occasionally looking back at Ferene.

“That’s Yarrow. My sister. Come on, let’s set you up so you can get back to sleep.”

Ferene nodded and followed in the same direction as the other two. She’d prefer to keep going, but she still felt tired and wasn’t going to turn down the offer. She might even be able to buy more food from them in the morning.

The three lived in a small log cabin with two rooms. The bedroom was already cramped with three beds in it, so Ferene helped Hallac push the table in the other room to the side so they could put down the cot. It turned out to be two thick, mostly stiff pieces of cloth tied together, just long enough for a regular human to lay down on. Ferene found her feet hanging off the end, but didn’t mind. She took off her armor and placed her swords directly beside the bed, easily in reach. Despite having been woken up not long ago in the woods, she found herself drifting off to sleep shortly after lying down.