The sun beamed through the cabin of the van onto Cherry, who lay at peace in the driver’s seat. She stretched out before flipping a few switches. Steam emitted from below outside the van. Cherry looked out to see Demalyn setting up shop alongside Desdin. He looked up at Cherry, who gave a cheerful smile before glancing over at Demalyn, who said, “I hated having to wait until she woke up to finally turned on the water heater. I’ve felt gross since yesterday.”

Cherry made her way to the showers before heading to her room. Her well made bed lacked any recent signs of being disturbed. Sitting in front of a mirror, she applied makeup and balm to her crew cut hair. Then she thumbed through her eye shadow before settling upon a darker shade of red. She dressed herself in a sharp sense before pulling a bag from her closet. She threw in several labeled ointments and medical supplies. Cherry paused at the safe in her closet before spinning the combination and opening it, revealing vials of glowing chrism alongside several pre-filled syringes. She thought back on Desdin’ chance encounter with the Fallen and packed a few into a strap of leather and placed them in her bag.

As she exited the van, she noticed that Yulsif and Ensi had now joined in at the shop. Someone had dressed Yulsif’s entire head in bandages. Cherry looked at him as an oddity. “Were you really hurt that badly?”

Yulsif went to answer when Demalyn, beaming with pride, interrupted enthusiastically, “I fixed him!”

Cherry let the moment go by before walking off towards town. “Have fun today. Don’t break any rules!” A man crossed paths with her as was leaving and he was coming with long white hair and a thin black mustache. Cherry gave him the once over, noting his physique. She then noticed the cloaked hunters that were in tow behind him. She looked back at Desdin who could see her concerned look. He waved her off nonchalantly.

The chiseled old man stood before the table wearing the same expression from the night before when Desdin had taken the measure of him. Ensi looked at him with respect and approached him. He gestured with humility to him before speaking. “Master Keoma, what brings you to the docks this morning?”

Keoma pointed at Desdin. “That one. Let him know I want a word.”

Ensi, for the first time, responded to something asked of him with urgency. He approached Desdin. “Master Keoma wishes to have a word with you.”

Desdin shrugged, “Who?”

“Master Keoma. He teaches martial arts at the lodge and owns the town’s weapon forge. Keoma and his students almost exclusively supply the town with their arms. He is a great man and sits on the council that governs Leoris alongside Walstaff, Vilsin, Hobe, the archivist Amise, and the head priest, Diapson.”

Desdin took interest and walked up to greet Keoma. “Hey, how old are you? You look old, but way more in shape than any old man I’ve ever seen.”

Ensi and the hunters behind Keoma looked taken aback by this introduction. Keoma replied. “Ensi, I meant for you to introduce us properly. You fail. But thank you. I’m sixty one.” Desdin showed genuine amazement.

Keoma cracked his serious expression and smiled. “Excellent display last night. It reminded me of my time in the Farland. I sought to humble myself at their smithies. I watched them train and show their martial prowess. Seeing you in action brought back fond memories. Tall, strong female Farland women, even stronger spirits to guard against the bitter cold, and the warmth of the Dragon forge that never ceased sparking. You rekindled some youth in me. I’ll do what I can to help bridge some understanding with the rest of the council so we can work together on the hunt. In the meantime, would you mind instructing some of my students?” He stuck a thumb behind him.

Desdin scratched the back of his head. “Sure I suppose. I won’t be here long enough to teach any tangible skills, but I can show them the concept of the Farland weapon arts.”

Keoma thanked Desdin before eyeing Demalyn. “I’ll contribute my patronage here as well.” He then turned to Ensi, who returned to his apathetic expression. “Boy! Go join the others. Maybe you will wake up tomorrow and realize you’ve wasted your talent and be too rusty to do anything about it.” Ensi came to attention before following the group of hunters with Desdin to a grassy knoll close to the entrance to the Sheriff’s office.

Demalyn looked at Keoma and pouted. “You took all of my help.”

Keoma looked over the wares at the shop before stopping at the replicas. “You wouldn’t possess any authentic Farland weapons?”

She smirked at the question. “Why yes, we do. If you would come with me to the van, I’d be happy to show them. Although I doubt Desdin would be willing to part with any of them. He has been collecting them since we’ve been on the road.” She looked over at Yulsif. “You are in charge for the moment. Don’t let it go to your head. I don’t think we can bandage it anymore than we have already.”

Keoma followed Demalyn into the van. He glanced at the interior with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve seen this kind of layout before.” Demalyn led him to the main hall where she hit a switch, which prompted the wall to fold out, displaying Desdin’ personal collection of arms. Keoma glanced at them and picked a few up, admiring the quality. “The firearms are, of course, Union design. I’m sure they are for utility only. The armor that the Farland wore could deflect most chrism shots, anyway. The weapons are genuine, though. Meant for killing and not sport.”

He stopped at the long scrap of leather and asked, “May I?” Demalyn nodded in approval. He unwrapped it and his eyes widened. Running his fingers over the side of the blade prompted a red gleam on the edge. “Blessed by Dragon breath. The Dragon forge would make one every so often because the materials needed were more rare than diamond. A weapon made with the intent to wound gods. And a hilt made from discarded Dragon scale. I don’t know who you people are or how you came about this, but it is worth more than anyone out here could earn in lifetime, even as damaged as it is.”

Demalyn said, “I don’t think Desdin put a monetary value on it. He stares at it fondly sometimes. I think it belonged to his father.”

Keoma acknowledged the importance. He said, “I can’t reforge it to perfection. We don’t have the heat, or the materials required. But I can bind the hilt back together. And as long as the center of the sword itself is good, the chips will turn sharp again if I put it to my fire. Do you think he would mind if I took it to my forge?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I can’t guarantee your safety if anything happens to it. Not from him, but from me because this is his most prized possession, and he is my most favorite person.”

Keoma laughed, “I always liked the fire of Farland women.”

She smiled and then, in a threatening tone, she said, “Let’s just say I burn a few degrees hotter than they do. So, it would be in your best interest to return it.”

He placed his hand up to disarm her with some charm. “Of course, consider it a gift for helping us out during this troublesome time.” He wrapped the sword back up in its leather shroud and left the van with Demalyn.

At the grassy knoll, Desdin had borrowed a practice sword from one hunter. He got into stance and held his sword at the ready in front of him. “So, the most important fundamental of Farland weapon arts is to focus on your will to live. To survive. When in combat, we teach that wounding or killing is secondary to this instinct. You have to learn to hone this. Practice alone or in competition forces you to focus on winning. That isn’t always an option when facing a dangerous opponent. You must be patient and observe. Defend, parry, and step backwards and sideways. Even when you find your opening, be careful not to step too far in. Always keep your foe at the edge of your weapon. If they make it past that point, you are gambling with your life. If you make that decision, be confident that the odds are in your favor and commit fully.”

Ensi took up one of the wooden arms brought by the students and stood in front of Desdin. “We observed this on display last night. You make it sound and look easy, but I’m sure in practice it isn’t.” Desdin nodded before stepping in and striking at Ensi with restraint. Ensi deftly began trying to apply what he had seen and heard.

Desdin grinned with approval. “Your teacher is right. You have talent.”

Ingrid emerged through the gate at the sheriff’s office. She was bespectacled today with large circular frames. Her hair appeared frazzled. She was clearly hungover from the night before, but still gave Desdin a warm smile while approaching him.

He greeted her with a wave before he addressed the hunters. “The best way to learn is to keep in mind what I said and spar amongst yourselves. Partner up and take turns with who is on the offensive with winning in mind and who is defensive, focusing on surviving.”

Ingrid spoke cheerfully. “You seem popular this morning. I also got a note saying Keoma is going to convene the council later tonight to make formal preparations for hunting the Devil Beast. Your friend Cherry seems to have won over Hobe and Walstaff so far. And you have impressed Keoma. I will attend the meeting in the archivist’s stead. But, as I mentioned before, you are a wanted man today. The archivist said she wants to meet with you and I back in her office before the meeting. Do you have time?”

He looked into her blue eyes. “For you, of course. Shall we?”

She blushed and asked, “what about them?”

“They will be fine. Ensi! You are in charge while I head into town. Ingrid will babysit me,” Desdin said as Ensi begrudged an acknowledgement. Desdin waved his hand with nonchalance, following Ingrid into town.

Ingrid was leading Desdin down to the third level of the archives where the archivist held her office. Desdin had inquired a couple times about the archivist only to have Ingrid respond with a nervous and tepid, “You’ll see.”

The doors leading into her room were plush and ornate. It belied the interior. Stacks of books in a well-lit room. A counter with trays of scraps of food and half full pitchers of drink. The musty smell of old books and a chamber pot of human waste all mixed. In the center was an engorged elder woman with displays pulled up all around her. Her grey hair was unkempt and matted in places and her gown was a beautiful dark blue but still soiled.

Desdin leaned over while whispering to Ingrid. “Hey, that will not happen to you when you become an archivist, right?” She responded by nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

Ingrid walked close enough to be within earshot of the archivist. “Lady Amise, Desdin from the Farland has come at your request.”

Amise snorted and swiveled around to face them. Her spectacles stretched against the side of her head as she shoved them into her face. “Ingrid speaks highly of you. However, I know a savage when I see one.”

Desdin gave an unexpected and awkward smile before saying, “Pardon?”

Amise turned her nose up. “You heard me. I do not intend to support any resolution that would see the town in your debt. I am civilized, so I thought I would invite you here to explain why.

Desdin exchanged his smile for a stern glare. “Hey, lady, we are here to help. Maybe if you left this hole of filth, you would see that your town is teetering between fear and denial.”

Her expression didn’t change as she didn’t acknowledge what he said and continued on. “To shake hands with the devil is to invite disaster. Ingrid already tells me many things. How you are filling her mind with the blasphemy from the Farland. The same sacrilege that saw your clans scattered by divine retribution. On purpose, you provoked the honorable Vilsin who blessed this town with his descended son. Keoma is a heathen by nature. And Walstaff is ignorant and unfit. As for Hobe, the man is senile. It falls to me, the archivist of Leoris, to not allow heresy in my town.”

Desdin clicked his tongue before asking, “Aren’t you kind of judgy? Aren’t you learned types supposed to be open-minded or something? You know, seek the truth or whatever.”

Amise raised her stubby fingers to her face. “Archivists within the Union gain first access to any new tome, book, or scrap of knowledge that comes through. The Roots of Dragsil? Or even learning about Dragsil at all is taboo. The reason you ask? Jonah from the Farland dedicated his life to it, leading to the Oldest wiping him out from existence, along with many innocent Union soldiers. The Union destroys or hides any new information on Dragsil for that reason. Ingrid knew this but indulged you, anyway. As I’m sure any other archivists have done that you’ve encountered.” Desdin looked over at Ingrid, who looked down. Amise chastised her, “Tell him, my dear.”

Ingrid nodded. “She is right. Although I’m honest when I say we haven’t seen any taboo articles or news come through in a long time. But it is my duty to protect this town and the Union. We are the most comfortable and the longest surviving nation in the known world.”

Amise’s chins rolled underneath her gaping mouth, smiling with approval. “I’ll be honest with you because you may be trying to help, but we don’t want your supposed aid. And who will believe a savage, anyway? Now go run back to your master. Have her family wire the money through the hub so that you can ride out the winter sitting at the port. Or better yet, see if they can send real help from the capital. You will not sully and taint my town.”

Desdin, recognizing this as futile, stared at her once more before walking past Ingrid towards the door. He slammed the door open and walked out into the street. He clenched his fist. Ingrid ran after him, calling, “Wait!”

Desdin turned back with a disdainful look, which caused her to freeze. She pulled up her display and pointed at the many red lines of text running over and over again in urgent lettering. Desdin was then dealing with a sudden panic. He knew the port was closest, and that Cherry would head back to the hospital. He said to Ingrid, “Send out a message telling anyone to go to the hospital! I’ll handle the port with Demalyn and the students there!” Without waiting for a car, he sprinted towards the docks with wild abandon. Ingrid thought to herself that he moved faster than any man she had ever seen.