Blade

3 4 1
                                    

If emotions could speak, if expressions had consciousness, then these that lay there before us that day would have surely spoken volumes

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

If emotions could speak, if expressions had consciousness, then these that lay there before us that day would have surely spoken volumes.

The shopkeeper was, in a word, unhappy. Why this was, I could only guess, but it seemed to be characterized by a general contemptuous glare that he cast upon my mates and I.

"Do you plan to make yet more trouble in my establishment, or would you actually like to buy something?" he asked, fanning himself. "I do have a business to run."

"Keep yer horses held." Thelma replied dismissively, as if this was not the first time that sort of comment had been levied at the group. "We're good customers."

"I know that." The shopkeeper replied, fanning himself a little more aggressively. "I'm more worried about the fact that anytime your crew wants to have a little verbal tussle, it's always gotta be here. They're getting worse. Stop them."

He continued to fan himself, with all the casualness of a man running the only store of this type in town, which was very much the case. He could essentially speak however he wanted to whomever he wanted without regard for repercussion it seemed. Though it seemed less to me like a smug power trip and closer to what emotion he was expressing openly: exasperation.

Thelma reached in to her belt, procured a sizable coin purse, and then sternly and suddenly thrust in down on to the counter.

"The usual, Reggie, if ye kindly would. 'N a sword fer the new one."

"You know I'm still going to count that, right? And don't call me 'Reggie'.'" He replied impetuously, rising from his seat. "It's Regios."

He looked over the shelf behind him for a brief moment before procuring a couple of large, newly made scrolls, and from another shelf he grabbed what appeared to be quite a few ration packs. I knew the taste and sight of them well, they tasted terrible, but eating even a slice of one of the dense cakes that were wrapped tightly in those cloth packs could hold you over for a day if you absolutely necessary. I knew this, sadly, from experience.

Then, finally, he walked over to his right and pulled a package from a shelf that was fully stocked with similar ones. He set it down on the counter and unfurled the cloth wrapping, revealing a beautifully crafted sheathed longsword underneath. I was unused to two-handed weaponry, but I imagined that it would be all I needed, considering I no longer needed a free hand for magic. He unsheathed it and set it down for us all to examine.

The blade's craftsmanship spoke to me, its shimmering blade crying out for bloodletting. Along its bottom near the hilt was what appeared to be a signature that read 'Maragonia'. The edges of the blade, sharpened exactingly, told me of just how much this 'Maragonia', whether that be person or company, cared about excellency of work. Along the flat part of the blade, however, was a shape that made me stop dead in my tracks, derailing my thought process entirely.

Etched in to the surface were two diagonal lines connected at a vertex, and above them was a small circle. This was unmistakably the same symbol on my hand.

"This beauty's in fresh from Gallagos." Regios said proudly. "I... happened to overhear that this man here is a marked one, is that true?"

I held up my hand, wondering where this was going. Regios gave it a good look and sighed deeply.

"Young man, you are in for a world of trouble. I hope you know how to use one of these." Regios said, shaking his head. "You need to be careful, there are things a lot worse than what lurks outside Clemence's walls. Such as the things in the Collapse."

The Collapse. Those words, inexplicably, sent a shiver down my spine. He said them so casually, so... nonchalantly, that they could have been missed were I not listening as closely as I was. He spoke as if he expected me to know what this 'Collapse' was, but I did not, and it disturbed me.

"The Collapse? Pray tell, what is that?" I asked.

"You don't know? By the gods, have your friends told you nothing?" Regios asked, adding no small amount of sarcasm to the word 'friends'. "Well, you'll see soon enough. That's for sure."

Though I was in the debt of Thelma and her crew, I found my suspicious nature proving somewhat fruitful. Either they were incompetent, or trying to hide from me important matters out of malice. I wished to believe the former. To be alone was not a grand fantasy of mine.

"In Gallagos, City of War, they believe that the marked are like gods." Regios said, tracing the etchings on the sword with his finger. "Some are worshipped, but all are presented with one of these. Many of your kind wind up here, in Clemence, so I have been sent a modest stock of them to present to the marked ones. Listen, I have no idea whether the notion of your kind being truly godlike is anywhere near accurate, but I will do as I'm told by the Gallogan priests, they're good customers, too. So here you are, good sir, and I sincerely pray that you put that blade to good use. Don't worry about paying for it, I've been told to give it away for free."

I looked at him, probably with a good deal of surprise on my face. Free? Such craftsmanship at a literally nonexistent price? I could hardly believe what I was hearing, but I was in no mood to argue with him.

"Yer a good one, Reggie." Thelma said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We owe ye one."

"You owe me ten." Regios said. "Would you like to pay now, or would you like me to put it on your tab?"

Thelma fished ten shining silver coins from the purse she had set down on the counter and handed them over. She, Jolly, and Hark all took the ration packs and what looked like maps, and began to make their way back towards the door. I went to the counter to retrieve my blade, but then I was knocked off balance by a hand pulling me close.

I was face to face with Regios, the balding old man whose breath smelled strongly of ale. When he spoke, he spoke in all seriousness, and barely above a whisper.

"Don't let them take you inside the Collapse. You'll never leave."

Author's Note: I'd just like to take a moment to thank you all for your continued support of this series, it means a lot to me! Please vote and leave your feedback in the comments below. Thanks :D

WardenheartWhere stories live. Discover now