This was insane.

Staring at the bustling crowd of people selling their wares and going about their day, Seth could not stop the frown that contorted his face. It was not anger. No. Anger was an emotion left for those offended, rightfully or not. What he felt was discomfort. Its mix with a touch of fear did nothing to aid him.

He knew he’d kept secrets in the seminary. Lied about every single facsimile of his history, short as it was. But to think the seminary would punish him by sending him this far out for his pastoral year was… insane. The coincidence of it was also staggering to nigh disbelief.

So he stood here, terrified on how he would survive the next year without permanent incident. Because as much as the seminary did not know his past, they had sent him here. Of all the countless territories in all the eight continents occupied by humans out of the eleven known, they’d sent him here. They’d sent him to West Blue. They’d sent him to one of the territories of the Baron of the Deep.

They’d sent him home.

His frown deepened at his discomfort but willed himself to calm. Just as none of his brothers had known their destination for their pastoral year, neither had he. They’d simply had their last dinner and woken up. According to Monsignor Faust’s explanation before the meal, the only clue as to what to do would be in the pocket of the trouser they wore.

Seth raised his hand, held up a piece of paper he had taken from his pocket when he’d woken on a decrepit bench in the middle of the market he now stood in.

House fifty eight, one of his minds read its content. Pass is ‘I hate the sun today, can you spare me some times’. Key is ‘why?’

Seth sighed at the words. It wasn’t the first time, and he knew the next time his mind read it, he would sigh again.

The seminary has zero creativity, another mind pointed out. And how do they expect you to find it in this madness.

Seth shrugged. It was a simple action but the weight he carried complicated it. Moved slightly out of alignment, he reached for his shoulders and adjusted the straps there. He repositioned it so that the swords on his back bound in large enough wads of cloth to conceal its true form, realigned to a comfortable position.

We think Jabari had a hand in it? his mind asked.

Seth’s answer was sarcastic. “What do you think?”

A month ago, he and his brothers had been called to the armory. Under Reverend Gareth’s supervision they had perused the contents of the vaults in search of weapons they thought suited them best. While the seminary seemed a place that upheld the use of the sword, in truth, it was well versed in a variety of weapons.

Fin, for one, chose a pole ax. It surprised no one to see him choose one. The weapon was taller than the boy by almost a foot with a crescent blade as large as two heads.

Jason and Barnabas picked simple longswords, double edged as the ones Igor always taught them with every Monday. Forlorn, surprisingly, picked a staff.

Seth had watched them choose even as he kept his attention fixed on two fine swords of Japanese design that hung from the wall. The katana was a variant of the tachi Jabari had slaved him through. It was a smaller, more comfortable design. Its curve was not as pronounced, and its blade not as long. It was—in a simple word—perfect.

While he watched them, Timi stepped up to a particularly odd weapon and took it by the hilt. It was a great sword designed to be wielded with both hands. Unlike longswords the likes of which Jason and Barnabas had chosen, its use with one hand was impractical. However, Timi held it up with a single hand and its silver edge gleamed in the glow of the green light that filled the vault.

The great sword, much like his brother, was a monster of a weapon. Double edged, its length was almost twice that of a longsword and its breadth was wider than Timi’s face by perhaps three inches. He swung a few practice strokes, the weapon whistling with the grace of an enraged guerilla as it cut the air.

Satisfied, he rested the point of the blade to the ground and the hilt came up to his nose. With an arm rested on the guard, he turned to Seth and signed. Does it fit me?

Seth chuckled. I would not want to face you with that, he signed back. Actually, I would not want to face you at all.

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Timi’s lips split in a satisfied grin and he nodded.

Seth was the only one of his brothers who took two weapons. Being the only one who favored dual wielding outside of Igor’s lesson—as the priest only taught them to fight with one blade. He armed himself with two katanas he took from the wall and held them in both hands. These he presented as his weapons of choice.

However, here he was in a faded blue jean and a black long sleeved shirt, two katanas strapped to both sides of him, and two more swords that weighed more than any sword had any right to. And judging by the length of them, he suspected they were more in the category of short swords.

He doubted his brothers would wake up with such additions to their arsenal. And no matter how much he thought of it, he could only come up with a single explanation for the addition.

Jabari.

You know, it’s not that bad, one of his minds thought as he made his way through the market. Considering how we fight, the more swords the merrier.

“The issue isn’t the number of weapons,” he grumbled, adjusting the weight once more. “It’s how heavy it is. How am I supposed to fight anything when I can’t even lift the weapon I’m using?”

He made his way around the market. He moved past stalls fashioned from straw and wood. There were some of greater repute that had found themselves as parts of actual buildings, having their own rooms where they displayed their wares in cases of tempered glass.

He dodged bodies in the crowd as he moved, weaving around them with an ease he had not been entirely certain he had, his footwork guiding him easily. Through it all, he held the straps of his new weapons like a child with a school bag.

After a space of thirty minutes that seemed the length of an hour, the market finally deluged into a stretched and smoothly tarred road, and Seth froze in awe of the sight before him.

Years ago, in a time before he’d been given to the seminary, in a time before he’d been taken from his family, the amount of well tarred roads in West Blue was very limited, enough for him to count them in both hands and still have fingers left to spare.

Now, he watched a road run down as far as his eyes could see to his left. To his right it converged on a junction that split into four more roads going in directions leading elsewhere.

These weren’t here before, right?

“They weren’t,” Seth answered.

He knew most places in West Blue. For instance, he knew the market he’d just stepped out of. Most of the children during his childhood had frequented it. In the past it had been the second largest growing market in the territory. It was different now, but he still noticed the slight touches of nostalgia. It was in old man Nathaniel’s store, which shocked him to know the man still operated out of it, his stall still made of straw and wood. He’d always thought with how much the man sold he would’ve upgraded his place by now.

The store were children bought candy at unnecessarily high prices was still there, too. He remembered how the poorer children often gossiped of stealing from it. Considering he didn’t visit the place much, he hadn’t bothered to hide his face when he’d passed it. Still, he had chosen discretion with a touch of caution. After all, when robbing a man of two gold coins, it was important not to get caught or noticed.

You think we have enough? One of his minds asked as they stood by the side of the road.

Seth slipped his hand into his trouser pocket and counted his new financial status. He fixed his attention on his surroundings, picked out the people moving around and the more surprising number of cars shooting past each other on the road. When had there become so many available cars on the road?

“Four gold, three silver and twelve copper,” he counted, finally. “Should be more than enough.”

Who goes to the market with so much gold, though? Another mind asked, reminding him of the older lady he’d robbed of a single gold coin.

When his hand had been in her purse he’d counted a lot of gold coins. He’d known they were all gold from the size and feel of them. She was probably the wife of some business tycoon or some lesser lord, perhaps she might’ve even been the business tycoon herself.

We should’ve taken all of it, a mind grumbled.

“That would’ve drawn an eventual alarm,” Seth said as he walked to his left. “And unless my father has changed, that would cause an investigation. An investigation permitted by my father over robbery of the rich can be unnecessarily thorough.”

Unnecessarily? His mind asked, mocking.

“Seeing as we’ll…” his words trailed of and he sighed. “…Seeing as I’ll be the culprit,” he corrected, “it is unnecessarily thorough.”

You’re one boy in a sea of heads. How will they even begin to find you?

“Imagine a theft occurs in a market where theft is rare,” Seth said as he walked down the side of the road. as wide as it was, it was flanked by simple buildings and trees allowed to grow with proper care. “Now, ask yourself, when the police arrive to investigate, questions will be asked. In a territory like this where almost everyone knows everyone, someone will point out the face no one recognizes. ‘there was a boy with a strange thing on his back that carried swords.’ I’m already conspicuous enough. All it takes is someone to point it out.”

But we were avoided, ignored, throughout.

Seth paused. “I take it you’re the new guy.”

Why? The mind asked, hesitant.

“Because I’m the voice of observation and logic. It’s usually you guys explaining to me that the reason I was being avoided was because I was odd. I was given an acceptable breadth in the chaos because I held too many weapons. Despite this, I was not stared at because the market is a busy place. In summary, I was odd enough to be ignored and they were too busy to want to wonder why.”

Oh.

“Funny. You’ve been around for more than a year and you still aren’t very good at understanding these things. It makes me wonder what the others are teaching you.”

We aren’t teaching us anything, another mind answered.

“Wouldn’t that make him useless to us, then?”

We have our uses already. It’s just not observation… yet.

“For my sake, I hope so.”