The past couple days were busier then usual. Zilian had to fill 40 crates with marillas; harvest the last wheat fields of the season; milk the cows, and with the milk, fill 30 large metal containers. After that, he had to pile up the crates into three large carts, before loading the wheat - he had to grind the wheat into flour with a large grinder near the wheat fields, then pour them into white cloth sacks. The last thing he had to load in the second cart, were 30 large jugs of milk, poured into tin jugs with an air tight clip and seal. There were other products in the last cart that Erica was in charge with; dried hapers, eggs and clothing that Erica sewed herself.

There was a lot of work to do for the Mountain Empire, they had a quota to meet in order to get premium pay from the Empire - they win on two fronts, getting information for the Swamp and good pay from the Mountain. Farame was always hospitable and there is a charisma with that sincere warm smile, after giving a firm handshake with both his hands, makes them feel more welcome and in turn lower their guard. As final step, he offers them some fine wine, which is the secret to how he gathers information from them. Then within two weeks, some spies from the Swamp appear in the middle of the night to gather the information Farame got from the Mountain soldiers.

Personally, Zilian did not want to involve himself with the war any more than he was already, much less so since it was with the Mountain. However, he would do anything for Farame, regardless of any personal qualms - Though Farame knew he did not like being in the middle of this, which was why he excused him for the day when the Mountain did come. Zilian enjoyed this time; without any work to do, he could fully appreciate his "me time".

He had made his safe haven far south of the house in the forest Farame and Erica seldom explored, feeling more secure on his own. He sat in the center of an area he cleared out; it was a lot of hard work but he finished making his own refuge out here. Branches and stumps were piled close but outside of the cleared area that used to be littered all around in the inside, trees branches were cleared so sunlight beamed to the ground undisturbed. He even dug a deep hole and with some tools and got the trunk of a felled but solid tree into the hole. Now it was a nothing but a thick and solid beam sticking out from the ground.

He is sitting with his head hunched forward intent on his book, *The Art of Swordplay*. The sword feels uncomfortable tied to his belt, so he leans his blade against the beam next to him. He had read the book a few times already, and his fascination grew as he read about the variety of blades and their diverse usage. The smallest of details were important, such as how one should draw a sword and maintain it - which included sharpening it frequently. Finally, there were techniques and styles for swordplay.

Currently, he is reading diagrams and steps showing how to keep a sword clean. He set the book aside open and shifts position sitting on his knees, grabs his sword next to him and slides it gingerly out of the hard, leather sheath. Laying the sheath aside, he followed the instuctions on how to clean and sharpen the blade. Supporting the blade against a large rock, he angles the blade 30 degrees and slides a whetstone starting from the hilt up to the tip. He does this six times on this side of the sword, then he flips it and does the same to that side. Satisfied with the sharpness, he pours water from his canteen onto the blade and flows smoothly across the entire blade until it flows off the tip of the blade, again he does it on the other side - as it is still wet, he rubs a rough cloth the entire length of the blade.

Satisfied with the work he had done, he took a moment to admire his handiwork holding it by its backside a foot from eye level. His sword's hilt was long enough to hold it with two hands, and the blade itself from the root curved inwards, but just slightly; the final detail of the sword was its thickness and how only one side of the blade was sharp. From what he learned from the book is that the sword was meant to cut through soft or medium targets, but with capabilties of piercing heavy armor.

After he oiled the blade and put back in its sheath, he went back to book to look for something more aggressive to practice. In the section of Sword Techniques, was a drawing of man holding a single sword in a stance with legs apart and sword angled downwards with the hilt at shoulder level. In the next page were two diagrams - side by side - one holding the sword with both hands, right hand holding the sword in an inclined manner instead of a decline, and left hand holding the blade just slightly over his belt; in the second was another man holding one blade angled up infront of him with a single hand instead of two, his free hand was drawed back in a perfect angle just under his shoulder length.

He read the book, *Common Single Sword Stance: The basic of swordplay. Most who learn to use swords, start off with one sword. Using a single hand permits the user to be flexible, but decreases his striking blows strength. While using two hands, enables the user to strike heavy blows, but lacks proper flexibility for the high range of defense. It is uncommon for people to become proficient in both sword skills of Single Sword Stance. Using a sword is not much different from a dance, one is taking the lead and the other follows, the agressor sets the pace for the fight and the reciever responds to his movements.*

Zilian skimmed through the rest of the book, various other stances, and swordplays. The double-sided, polearm blade; exceptionally difficult, due to the fact you must have proper balance and keep proper stance or else you could harm yourself. A huge, wide blade, commonly known as Buster swords, only very strong people can lift it up, once with the strength it then requires lots of time to practice to create synchronization of muscle to flexibility. Another was the double sword technique, commonly used it forward, or skilled enough to hold it inverted.

"Alright, enough reading. No good if I don't practice." Zilian smiled.

Unsheathing his sword again. He will be practicing single handed stances, since it is just one sword he has. He steps in front of the beam, with his right foot a step ahead placing his weight on his left. He shifts his weight to his right foot as he moves his back forward, striking the stump in a right, down side-slash, draws back with his weight back on his left foot as before. He repeats hits it on its right, drilling the slash into his mind and building the muscle he needs. As he sun rolled from the skies above, and brief brakes during the passing time, he felt more power in his swing. He left sharp, deep marks on the side of the stump.

Panting. Zilian slouched and wiped the sweat off his brow, he is now exhausted. He does not feel strong enough, I will take time for that to come; but he can feel sharper sense of focus. If he wants to be proficient with his sword, he needs to be stronger and more skilled. His sword flashes in his eyes, he squinted, and as he squints he notices an indication on the blade. He wipes the dirt off of it, and now seeing clearly what it was just made a bigger mystery.

Wield Lighting.

Zilian grinns, fantasizing the idea of using lighting, the crackle of thunder and lighting zipping through. He angles the sword with the hilt over his shoulders, swinging his sword back and forth pretending he were fighting a million soldiers, with lighting zapping them all. The hair on his neck stood on end from excitement, it took him a moment to see it was not from excitement. As he was waving the sword around, the sword ceased to be a normal sword, it started with a spark that sounded no more then birds chirping, but quickly grew louder and louder into a thurnderous roar. The light from the blade glowed in the dark forest, casting shadows of the trees all pointing away from him as if the forest tried to flee. 

Lighting emmited, crashed and scorched the trees around him. Scared from what transpired from practice to an explosion from the blade, Zilian hurled it away. The instant he hurled the blade, it ceased to burst to lighting everywhere.

When Zilian hurled it, he jumped back with his back pressed against a tree, he would have turn and run if he had not bumped into this tree. He breathed heavily does not know what to do, stunned, he lets it sink in. After what seemed like an eternity, but in fact was just over a minute. He grabbed a stick nearby, moved cautiously to the sword, poke at it with the stick, nothing. Reached out to grab it, he flexed his fingers in hesitation, but built up the courage to finally hold it in his possession again. It remained to be no more than just a normal sword, for now.

The mystery of the blade seemed to have lifted a shroud of question, but now rose a cloud of more question. Most important of all, here is more to the blade and that is why it was important to his father, and apparently to the Mountain.

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~---~

Zilian walks in through the backdoor, just in case if the Mountain soldiers were still around. He could tell there were not around anymore, it was too quiet for them to be possibly there. He walked in as calmly as he could. The roar of thunder still rang in his ears, so it is a little difficult to act normal at this point. When he entered, he found it even harder to pretend to act normal. The house looks like a box storage, he saw Erica packing some dishes in one of the boxes.

"What's going on here?" Zilian asked.

Before she could reply. From upstairs, someone gave orders.

"Erica! Ya, keep some them plates out so we can still eat from them. Remember, tomorrow we pack them rest of things in them two carts and horses. We'll be leaving the day after that."

Then Farame just came out downstairs with a box filled with books. "Oh Zilian, come and help, will ya? We got to keep on schedule." Then Farame placed the box down and went back upstairs.

Zilian turns to Erica, "Did I hear that right? We're leaving in two days?"

Erica paused from her packing to answer, "You heard him right. As soon as the soldiers left, he immediately wanted to pack up and go."

"Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mines." She must have asked and got an unreasonable reply in return. She frowned, it was not dissapointment, hey brows and eyes remained wide and alert. Fear.

"For how long? We will be back here, right?"

"I don't know if he's planning to be gone for good or not. If I were to guess, it seems like for good."

"I guess it would be pointless to ask where we're going."

"Actually, that I can answer. Ferry said we're going to the Swamp Empire's capital, Lake Haven. Howeverm, when I asked how long we be there, he just said 'As long as necessary.'"

Zilian heard Farame call for him again.

"I'll see if I can get him to tell me," Zilian said.

"Good luck. You'll probably need it." Erica gave a weak smile, then resumed to her packing.

Zilian found Farame upstairs, to the third room on the right. The first thing he noticed, the bookshelves were almost empty - not that there were that many book, just a few dozen at least. Farame was almost done packing this room up, a bunch of pots of flowers was lined up on one wall, while another wall was piled with closed up boxes.

"Hey Zilian, ya can grab all them sheets from the bottom drawers, then get them in the boxes. That'll round up this room."

Zilian still working out what to say, did what Farame asked him to do without question. He grabbed sheets on the top and placed them neatly in a big box, grabbed the rest of the sheets and packed them in the box. He closed up the box, tied them with a piece of string surrounding the box.

"So, why are we going?" Zilian went straight to the point.

"Why ya ask?"

"You're seriously asking why I am asking? How about because we're taking the whole house with us."

Farame sighed, "I know ya know something happened."

"So why are we leaving?" Zilian asked again.

Farame paused, combed his hand through his in stress. He seemed to have aged even more this afternoon. "How badly ya wanna keep out from this war?"

Memories flooding back in his mind, what happened to him several months back still lingered.

"I don't want any part of this war, too much tragedy."

"Then ya know why I can't say why. Zilian, ya gotta know, some secrets are kept secret out of love. Ya have no idea how badly I want to tell, but for ya safety, I can't. What I can tell ya, if I don't get to the Swamp in time, ya may have no choice but being a part of it."

With that being said and rub on his temple, Farame tied up the last box.

"Now ya can get them boxes down, that'd be good for tonight. We rise early tomorrow, we finish early tomorrow."

Farame picked up a box to take it downstairs. Zilian picked up a box too and went trailing after Farame. A lighting sword, Farame scared out of his wits, and more work. Not how he expected this day to be.