Rosaluna stood and vanished into her cottage. Mohrdrand remained as he was, not particularly concerned nor insulted. This was the way she was, and he was used to it. She returned after several minutes, bearing a large satchel of burgundy dyed leather. The strap was frilled and flowered, but also of subdued hue. Various jeweled crests and gems, some of them of considerable size, adorned both case and strap

“Isn’t that—?”

It is Button’s now, she replied without emotion. It is completely stocked, with additional items she will no doubt find useful in her travels. I’ve also included notes regarding its contents, and some tomes of spells she will be able to learn from as she gains experience. Along with a blank journal, which I expect her to keep current.

I have also included a not insignificant sum of gold, she stated somewhat grimly. Enough to outfit him properly and start them on their way.

She set the satchel on the ground beside his chair.

He nodded, face inscrutable. “And what has brought about this change in attitude regarding his safety?” he wondered.

Her lip drew back at his airy tone. It should be obvious even to you, my dear friend, she near growled. That he is now her protector as well as her companion. Shall I place her in yet greater danger simply because I dislike the boy? You think so little of me?

“Never,” he consoled. “I suppose I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

From within her robes, she withdrew what looked like a brooch, gleaming dully. It oozed magic. She will wear this against her heart, she ordered. Against the skin. It will attach itself to her flesh. It will be... uncomfortable, at first.

“And it accomplishes what in exchange for this discomfort?” he wondered.

The enchantment should be proof against the venom the two of them encountered along the road, she sent. Not one hundred percent, but a notable reduction in potency.

“They took no samples,” he noted. “And haven’t returned here. How have you managed such an aid?”

I was with her when she cleansed the rot from his body, she replied. At least the first time. I understand that he was foolish enough to become tainted multiple times.

“You were that deeply embedded into her mind?” he was surprised.

There is a price which must be paid to lend such strength as I gave her, she said. It involves sending life along with power. Which, she admonished, is something she need not ever know, although I’m sure she is already suspicious. Mark me, Mohrdrand, she waved a finger for emphasis. What I did, I did to save her life. I would do it again were circumstances similar, and I will not be shamed for it.

He watched her stow the brooch in the satchel which had been her own traveling bag for almost fifty years, wondering a thing. “And you don’t anticipate he’ll fall afoul the stuff ever again?” he ventured. “Even with the wonderful armor she’ll no doubt provide him now she’ll have the cost?”

She scowled at him, eyes going narrow. He returned her regard calmly, his face mild and innocent.

With an angry grunt, she spun from him and stomped back into the cottage. When she reappeared, she bore a second brooch, which she must accidentally have made at some point in the past, for she certainly hadn’t had the time to do so between her recent departure and subsequent return. She tossed the brooch into the satchel with a disdainful flip, as though disposing of a mouse carcass.

What? She demanded as she resumed her seat with more force than was necessary.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “Not anything at all. May I refresh your tea, my dear Rosaluna?”

* * *

“You want to test with the spear?” the guildmaster wondered. “Looked like some of those moves would translate well.”

Jack shook his head. “Not for the moment,” he said. “I won’t be carrying both a spear and FoeSmite, and I’m not about to leave it behind, so it would be a waste of time. Later, maybe.”

“Fine, then. Let me see that sword,”

Jack retrieved the weapon and passed it to the guildmaster. Jonkins drew it and stepped clear, taking a few passes with it. He ran a finger across the blade and nodded. Then he looked up at Jack and frowned. He resheathed the sword and bade Jack pick a waster from the rack. The boy had already surprised him a few times this afternoon, and he didn’t want an embarrassing visit to the healer out of being overconfident.

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Jack was frowning of his own accord. The Mundians didn’t, it appeared, go in for bell guards. He found a couple of swords with blades similar to his, but none with a similar basket. Eventually, he settled on a five bar swept hilt number with a blade a couple of inches longer and a bit wider than his own. It felt alright in the hand, so he figured he’d give it a shot.

Returning to the center of the arena, he was surprised to see the guildmaster standing there, a sword in his own hand. A much more substantial weapon than Jack himself was wielding. He looked to the sidelines where Tiarraluna was standing, an apprehensive look on her face.

“He will be testing you himself,” she called.

He looked back to arena center and his eyes narrowed. The man simply waved him in.

“Alright,” the guildmaster ordered through Tiarraluna when Jack had come nearly within measure. “Offend. I’ll be blocking for now.”

Jack hesitated for a second or two. This had an eerily familiar feel to it. He went into en garde and looked for an opening. Hah! Like he was going to find one against this guy. Still, it was a test for a change, not a fight, so he figured he’d go through the standard progression, striking through the nine standard lines, their cuts and thrusts. Not a single one went through, but the guildmaster was true to his word, and didn’t counter any of them.

“Alright,” the man ordered. “Faster.” and again, “faster.”

After four or five minutes of this, the man called a halt. “Not bad,” he nodded. “I’m going to start offending. You defend. Feel free to parry if you think you can.”

He started slowly, almost like Jack’s original instructor. Then, gradually, without losing his air of casualness, he increased his speed in stages, until finally, it was all Jack could do to hold him off. He hadn’t managed more than a token cut the whole time.

Again, the man called a halt. “That it?” he asked. “Is that your best?”

Gasping for air, sweat running down his face and back, Jack nodded.

“Fine. Okay, go find yourself a shield and we’ll start over.”

Half an hour later, he called that segment.

“I’m told,” he ventured as Jack turned to dispose of the shield, “that you are able to use two swords.”

“I can,” Jack answered hesitantly, giving Tiarraluna the side eye. “I’m better with a sword and dagger, but I’ve done some dual wielding.

“Let’s see that,” the guildmaster told him. “That ability is pretty rare, and I’d like to see if you’re telling the truth or if you just think you can.”

“I can bring the dolls out,” the guildmaster offered some time later. “You might do better, but I’m willing to call you a rank four without.”

“I’ll take it,” Jack gasped, glad just to be standing.

“Out of curiosity,” the guildmaster asked. “How’d you like a go with your own blade? I’d like to see if it makes a difference. I promise not to cut you.”

Jack frowned at the barb, but couldn’t argue with it. “Give... give me a minute,” he panted. “And we can have a go.”

The jaeger drop sword did feel better in his hand. And the bell guard somehow gave him more confidence. When Jack moved back out into the arena after a short break and some water, he thought he might do noticeably better.

The guildmaster moved in first this time, assaying a leisurely thrust with his larger blade. Jack parried and drove in smartly, causing the guildmaster to take a step back for the block. His face grew more serious, and his second attack bore a bit more speed. Jack blocked, parried, and sideslipped.

Now Jonkins’ eyes took on a glint, and a small smile crept out from the corners of his mouth. He beat aside Jack’s thrust and followed his blade, boring in. Jack managed the block, but it was awkward, and left him badly placed. The followup would have been the match, but at the last instant, there came a clang as Jack brought his basket up, his wrist at a painful angle, to intercept very close to his face.

Now it was the guildmaster who was overextended, and Jack flipped his lighter blade up and in, going for the guts. Jonkins sucked in his gut and slapped the blade away with his off hand.

They went on like this for a few more minutes before the guildmaster called a halt.

“Still only a four,” he laughed. “But a high four. Say, a four plus ten. When you can come at me like that with any sword in your hand but that one, then I’ll call you a five.

Also,” he added. “You should find yourself at least a good parrying dagger to go with that blade. You really aren’t that bad, all things considered.”

They were at the sidelines with Tiarraluna, cleaning their weapons, when the guildmaster voiced a thought. “You’ve never fought a man in a real face to face fight before, have you?” he asked, voice casual.

“You mean a with sword?” Jack asked with half a chuckle. “To kill? No. Until I got here, all my sword work was strictly sport. On my world, we’re a good century beyond killing one another with swords. I’m actually considered something of an oddball for even owning one. Even the guy who got the knife into me got shot for his troubles.”

Jonkins eyes were wide. “Those bullet things, then?”

Jack nodded. “Among other things,” he told the man. “The war I was fighting, the only bladed weapons we used —my people, at least— were knives, which I have used in combat, and hawks. Uh, tomahawks. They’re a kind of specialized fighting axe. Even at that, we only used them when things got very, very squirrelly and we were already in serious trouble.

"Some of the enemy still used swords, but it was mostly to murder prisoners. They loved to lop the heads off of just about anything or anyone they didn’t like.”

He told them some stories, most of which they probably didn’t believe, while they finished cleaning and stowing the weapons.

“Do you want to test with the knife?” Jonkins asked when they’d done.

“Will it give me any benefits?” Jack wondered.

The guildmaster shrugged. “I confess, I’m still not sure how you can wield the weapons you do. Nor am I certain you’ll gain any benefit from being tested with them, or whether or not you’ll accrue any sorts of skills or bonuses. To be honest, without the life crystal to show us, I’m only guessing at where you’ll rank.”

“Damn,” Jack frowned. “In the stories, there’s always this magical machine where the hero just goes up and puts his hand on a mirror or crystal ball or something and it tells everybody everything about him from age, to rank, to magical abilities. Bam! No muss, no fuss. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of anything like the tests you’ve been putting me through.”

Jonkins and Tiarraluna were looking one to the other, faces very still. Jack queued to this along about the time he’d finished complaining. “What?” he asked.