The man had finally found it. The tavern was far out of town, in the middle of a forest. Hence the name: Inner Pub. No road technically led there, except the ones naturally created by the guests as they walked there. Most of them were wanted men, hiding from the law. The man entered, his cloak concealing his face. He didn't want to be seen or bothered. It was not a good place to attract attention. No doubt, that's why the person he sought had chosen this place. It took a while, but the wanderer found him. He was tall, had long black hair, and a big scar on his face from one corner to another. He sat alone in one of the corners of the settlement. The man knew little about him, only two things. One: he was a veteran of many wars. Two: on the fields of battle, he fought with such ferocity that it was unmatched by any other. Precisely the kind of experience the wanderer needed.

He took a seat directly in front of him.

'Greetings, Wolf,' the man began. 'You're a hard man to find.' Wolf looked at the man. He weighed him and then spoke.

'That's because I don't want to be found. What do you want?'

'I have a... problem. One in which I need your help.' The man slowly drew out his sword and put it on the table. He quickly looked around, but luckily everybody was busy with their own things. Meanwhile, the veteran looked at the sword and took it in his hand.

'This looks like a regular short sword. Or so would say someone who never held one before. Its alloy is...' the berserker's eye widened a little. 'Where did you get this?' he asked.

'I got it from my father.' replied the traveler.

'A gift?' Wolf handed the sword back to its owner.

'More like a curse.' answered the man, as he put it away. 'It's called Anger. The problem is that every time I wield it, I lose my mind. I become a monster. Just like those who terrorize the towns. I can't think straight; the only thing I can think of is-"

'Destruction and to kill the thing that pissed you off?' Wolf interrupted.

'Yes.' said the man.

'Hm. And what do you want me to do about it?' wondered the veteran.

'I want you to help me destroy it. Or take it from me. I will even pay you, just... help me get rid of it. Anytime I tried to leave it behind or throw it away, it simply came back.' said the man with despair in his voice.

Wolf thought for a second. He looked at the man and simply said:

'No.'

'What?!' snapped the man at Wolf.

The master of battle noticed what the man did not: the wanderer's hand was already on the hilt. Some sort of black vine started to crawl up his skin. Wolf got ready but continued:

'I will not help you. If you can't control your blade, that's your problem. The only shame is that such a fine weapon found such a pathetic user.' The veteran was watching closely for the man's reaction.

It followed as predicted. The traveler drew his sword and attacked his talking partner with it. But Wolf was quick; he parried the attack with his mace. The table turned over, and everyone was watching them (though in places like this, a fight wasn't all that rare).

'How dare you call me pathetic?!' the man shouted.

The vines crawled through the man's entire body, covering his face. He struck again, this time with an overhead slash. Wolf easily blocked it and, with a quick kick to the ribs, sent the traveler flying. The man landed on his back about two meters away. His anger grew. 'Don't let him win!' said a voice in his head. A voice outside, Wolf's, asked a question.

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'Do you know how the orcs were created according to the legend?'

The man got up from the floor, getting ready to strike again, while the veteran continued. 'According to the tales, they were once normal people. No different than you or me.' The wanderer ran towards his foe, using the momentum he struck from the side, but the soldier was quicker. He parried the blow with his mace, grabbed the man, and threw him into the wall.

'Until they fell to their rage. They did not control it. It consumed them. Now, most of them are nothing more than a savage tribe of monsters, only doing things so they can destroy better.'

The man was trying to catch his breath, but he could only see red. With his sword, he charged his foe once again, but Wolf just dodged the blow with ease and, with an annoyed punch, sent the man to the floor. The man gasped for air; he used his sword as a means to support himself on his knees. But in his mind, the voice wouldn't let up. 'Destroy him already, you useless trash! Are you this weak?! You're gonna let him get away with it???'

Then, Wolf asked a new question:

'Are you an orc, boy? Tell me: are you the wielder or the wielded of that blade?'

The traveler... stopped, he was looking at his enemy. Wolf smirked a little.

'Finally, you are hearing me. Do you know why you are losing against me? It's because I control my anger; I don't let it consume me, but I am using it. Aiming it. You can be the best swordsman in the world in theory, but without controlling your emotions, your rage, you will just flail around like a paper in the wind. So answer me: are you the wielder of Anger or the wielded of Anger?'

The man was shocked for a moment. He stared at his blade, while the voice in his head was still shouting at him to kill, to destroy everything.

He gripped his blade hard and said:

'I... am... the wielder!' He struggled, trying to put the blade away in its sheath as it resisted.

The voice shouted at him, 'NOOO. HE'S STILL ALIVE. FINISH HIM!!!' The vines burned on his skin. It took every bit of his will to not give in. Finally, the blade was back in its sheath. The man fell on all fours and noticed that the voice was finally gone. Meanwhile, Wolf set the table back on its feet and ordered two jugs of beer. Everyone got back to their business. The wanderer got on his feet as well and took the seat in front of Wolf.

'Thank you. I'm sorry for what I did.' said the man, with shame in his voice.

'Listen, kid, this blade you carry will not go away. It may have been your father's, but it's yours now. You're bonded to it.' The beers had arrived in the meantime. The traveler gave two coins to the bartender while Wolf continued. 'It is a powerful weapon, I have seen it firsthand. But it means nothing if you can't control it properly. This was only the beginning. It will be a lot of work to learn to wield it properly. Lucky for you, that's the thing I can help you with.' The veteran drank his beverage in one sip.

'Lucky indeed. What will it cost?' asked the man, taking a sip himself.

'Well first, you gotta buy me another drink. Second, you look like someone who's on a big journey. You are looking for the treasure, right? The treasure everyone wants to find." The man nodded hesitantly. 'I'd like to see it. I never heard anyone who could describe it. No painting, no descriptions in the ancient texts. I need to see it. Plus, I'm sure there's plenty of glory and battle on the way there. So I will travel with you and teach you a thing or two about your blade.' The veteran looked determined.

'That makes two of you.' said the man, more to himself than to his new guide.

'What?' Wolf looked at him, confused.

"Nothing. I accept your terms. Let us travel together, fight together, and learn together. Cheers!' the man raised his jug.

'Cheers!'

The man found himself back in the present. The battlefield was long behind them. Scythian's arm was in a bandage. Luckily, the wound wasn't deep. All four of them walked silently, speaking no words since the battle. Finally, he approached his wounded guide.

'Scythian, I'm so sorry about what happened. I lost control, that girl, those monsters. I should have held back.'

The old guide looked at him, with joy on his face.

'Ah, don't worry about it, lad. Nothing happened that could not be fixed. The important thing is that you learn from it.'

The man smirked a little, then turned to Wolf.

'I apologize to you too, Wolf. I forgot your teachings. Anger is a weapon I need to wield. Otherwise, it will wield me, destroying everything I have and care about.'

The master of war did not bother to look at the man; he just spoke.

'I still intend to make sure that teaching is well within your mind. Don't forget that blade of yours is a very special kind. Next time, don't disappoint me.'*

The company continued their journey until their next stop.

*(Seriously, what are you doing? Warrior of the Mind. Listen to it.-Editor)