“Aren’t you going to work today?“

  It was a fine weekday morning in Pasargadae. A week had already passed since the party arrived at the capital of Vaznakar, and the streets were busy with people heading to their workplaces like every start of the day. And as always, Octavia came out of the bathroom in her underwear while brushing her teeth and scratching her butt, with a question directed at Foreigner, who just woke up with her hair messed up and drool dripping from her mouth.

  “Where is Pafnuty?” In a cracking morning voice, Foreigner looked around the room with eyes still in sleep.

  “Work. What about you? Any plan?“ Octavia spoke with her mouth full of toothpaste foam and splattered it on the surrounding floor, even though Pafnuty scolded her to keep the business of the bathroom within the bathroom.

  “No, the restaurant is closed for the day.“ Foreigner replied as she took a big stretch with her mouth wide open for a refreshing yawn.

  “Good. We are going shopping then.“

  Octavia went back to the bathroom to properly finish taking care of herself, while Foreigner rubbed her eyes and nodded her head one tempo slower without fully processing what Octavia had just said.

  Foreigner discharged an enormous yawn filled with the urge to go back to bed as she walked down the street with Octavia. She was not informed about where they were heading, but she was used to that aspect of Octavia at this point and knew that she wouldn’t get a straightforward answer even if she asked.

  Even though it was still early morning, the street was already fully awake. People were roaming around the stores for the haul of the day, and the merchants advertised their shops in a chaotic yet sophisticated way that had been passed down from generation to generation. While eating toast filled with melted cheese, fried egg and roasted bacon with an egg yolk dripping from the side, Foreigner walked on the side of Octavia as they passed Frilly Ribbon with a sign saying closed on the door.

  After walking for about twelve more minutes, Octavia turned into the back alley without a light on a bright day. Foreigner hesitated for a brief moment as the silent darkness within the shadow was overwhelming compared to the lousy street she was on, but she had no other choice but to follow.

  After turning corner after corner into the web of narrow passages, the two of them reached a new street with no traffic other than themselves, except for the drunkards and homeless sleeping on cardboard boxes on the floor. Foreigner got into proximity with Octavia as she walked across the dark street until she stopped in front of one building with no sign and the lights turned off.

  “Cool. It’s still in business. Let’s go in.“

  After a one-sided conversation, Octavia entered the building. Although Foreigner didn’t wish to go in as the building emitted an ominous aura from every aspect it could, she feared staying out in the street even more. After a quick prayer to wish Octavia knew what she was doing, she followed her right in.

  The first impression of the store was horrific. There was a bell attached to the entrance, but it did not make any sound as it swayed. The air was stuffy with the dust floating around, and the lights on the ceiling were all cracked in a narrow and long room. The only lamp that seemed to be intact was on the counter at the far back, and even that was turned off with the dust visibly covering the bulb. No one was in the room to give a welcome or explanation of the store, but Foreigner could figure out what kind of shop she was in.

  Ranging from the traditional to the modernized, all kinds of weapons were on display on walls, stands, and shelves, regardless of them being designed for close or ranged combat. Although the floor and the display stands were infested with dust and stains, the weapons on sale were maintained in perfect shape without a single speck of dust disrupting their forms. Leaving Octavia heading to the counter, Foreigner reached out to one of the weapons on display at a whim, but got halted by a stick striking her hand down from above rather strongly.

  “Get out.“

  As a deep, grumpy, and slurred voice came from beneath her, Foreigner looked down to her right side.

  There was a big-headed old man with a pair of small wings on his back, holding a cane in his right hand and a ladder in his left. He had a dirty beard that was shaved only partially, and the wrinkles on his face were getting deeper every second he frowned with every facial muscle while licking his lips in his toothless mouth.

  He placed the ladder against the wall to climb to a height level equal to the Foreigner’s shoulder in order to grab one dagger displayed and snapped at Foreigner with his eyes fixed on the dagger. “I said, get out. No kids allowed in my store.“

  “Excuse me? A kid?“

  Foreigner got defensive about the unfair and treacherous treatment she was receiving.

  “I’m a full-fledged adult who knows how to take care of myself!“

  It was partially a lie. She wasn’t completely sure if she could take care of herself yet. Still, she felt a need to emphasize that point.

  “Only kids would say that. Get out before you hurt yourself.“

  An old man was indifferent to what Foreigner had to say about herself and came down the ladder with a dagger he had just grabbed. Foreigner was left dumbfounded at how little care he gave to the potential customer, even though she wasn’t planning on getting anything.

  “You have a customer here.“

  As the bell on the counter rang twice, the old man, without a response, slowly limped towards his seat behind the counter while his wings stayed stiff. Once he finally reached it, he walked up a small wooden staircase that led to a chair too high for him in order to match the eyesight with the customer, then turned on the lamp placed on the counter.

  “What?“ And he ended his sentence there, without a single drop of respect.

  “Modification.“ Octavia, with a calmness that surprised Foreigner, placed her revolver on the counter as well as handing the old man a paper with her request written on it.

  The old man took his monocle out of his pocket and smacked his lips as if trying to relax his toothless mouth. Foreigner approached Octavia quietly and grabbed her sleeve with the tips of her fingers, which Octavia noticed but decided to do nothing about. Instead, her eyes were fixated on the old man studying the weapon and the paper to make a judgment of some kind. Eventually, he took his monocle out of his eye and then carried the revolver and the dagger he grabbed to the back of the store with the utmost care he never showed to living things.

  “What’s with this place? He’s so rude!“

  Foreigner whispered directly into Octavia’s ears, but Octavia replied without a care to do the same.

  “Well, that’s just how artisans are. And I like it that way. Don’t wanna talk too much. Anyhow, is there anything that catches your eye?“

  There was a reason for Octavia to bring Foreigner here. She wanted to see if Foreigner felt fond of any items on display, as a means of a weapon to swing. From the incident back at Abaskan, it became clear that Foreigner knew how to handle a small knife, so Octavia was curious if anything would help her regain the memory.

  At Octavia’s question, Foreigner scanned the room left and right, but she already had one place in mind. She walked back to the very wall where the old man scolded her and reached out for one of the daggers on display with her left hand. A long, lightweight knife specialized in thrusting and deflecting incoming attacks.

  As she brought the dagger closer to her face, the double-edged straight blade reflected the dim light coming from the counter and dragged her deeper into its mesmerizing beauty. The weight of the blade. The pressure on the palm. The way fingers wrap around the elegantly designed hilt. Everything felt perfect in her hand, and somehow nostalgic.

  Suddenly, the dagger slipped out of her hand and floated on nothingness. She tried to catch the dagger swimming in the air, but it made a nimble escape and made her fall to the ground with nothing left in her hand. The dagger flew across the room towards the counter, landing softly on top of the old man’s hand as he made an exasperated expression. He once again placed the dagger on top of the counter and spoke in a tone Foreigner was still not used to.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “No. Kids. Allowed. You will leave a scar on your pretty face.“

  “Huh?!“

  At first, Foreigner got confused by what just happened, but none of that mattered once the anger took control of her brain.

  “For the last time, old man, I’m a grown adult who can handle a blade or two myself!“

  Or so she thought. But right now was not the time to doubt herself.

  “Twelve hundreds. Come back three weeks later.“ The old man deliberately ignored Foreigner, who was fuming out of her head.

  “I’ll pay after seeing your work.”

  The moment those words left Octavia’s mouth, a silence fell upon the room. The declaration of war was made, and the only thing left was for the battle to take place. As it was Octavia who took the first shot, the next bullet was held in the old man’s hand, and he opened his mouth to fire the strike that would penetrate her soul.

  “Hold it! I’m still talking to you, old man!“

  But there was a third party involved in this war, and she was the one who blasted out first. At that, the old man lost the pace of his attack, and it was Octavia who became the victor without an effort. As the light whistle of victory echoed in the room, Foreigner stood on the side with a slight confusion on her face, and the old man clicked his tongue with every facial muscle of his being crunched.

  “Octavia. Since when did you bring a kid to a place like this?“

  “What the?!“

  That short sentence was enough to turn Foreigner upside down while Octavia stayed silent to see how things would unravel. Being unable to take control of her logic as the emotion took full authority of the body, she grabbed a weapon that was within her reach on a whim and then placed it on top of the counter fiercely.

  “This and that dagger! I’ll take them both!“

  On the street, there stood a crepe stand with a line of people waiting to dive into the world of sweetness. Various crepes were on the menu: strawberry, banana, blueberry, chocolate, and honey. And there was Foreigner, who would gladly wait in line under the sun to savor her tongue for a good prize that it deserved after such stressful shopping. If she had any money, that was.

  The sun was bright, and people were cherishing the moment. In the central plaza where Foreigner was used to by now, she waited Octavia with the dagger on her side and the sword in her hand. With eyes that tracked the cream dripping from the crepe held by the child, she pulled the sword out of the sheath slightly so that she could look at that instead of what she could have had.

  It was a curved, sharp, one-sided blade specialized at cutting rather than striking, and had a circular guard between the blade and the hilt. As it provided a clear reflection of herself on its black surface, it was evident that the quality of the sword was perfect. And Foreigner did like the sword, as it looked cool. The only issue was that this thing ate up everything in her wallet, without a future plan of any sort.

  “Do you like it?“

  Octavia casually asked as she returned with a half-bitten ice cream. Foreigner had no other choice but to watch her while hypnotizing herself into believing that the ice cream did not look tasty, even though her mouth was already prepared for the sweet chill that it would never receive.

  “I don’t know. I guess?” Foreigner released a sigh after finishing her sentence, as it was true that she was regretting a bit.

  Octavia finished her ice cream and threw the remaining inedible part into the nearby trash can. She started to walk back to the inn, with Foreigner following right after her. “Do you want a refund?“ She knew that would be close to impossible, but she still wished to see Foreigner’s reaction.

  “Never!“

  Like a cat protecting its precious meal, Foreigner hissed out a declaration. The fact that she bought this sword and the dagger on a whim of the moment stood true. Yet, for a reason that she could not explain, the weapons she had in hand felt like her weapon that was made for her. Besides, that wasn’t the only reason.

  “I don’t want to see that grumpy old man with a cheap trick again in my life.“

  Octavia laughed out loud at Foreigner’s precise observation. “Well, yeah. That geezer sure is one of a kind. He does use Rhea like nothing, and it surprises me too. Sometimes I wish I could use it. It looks really convenient.”

  Rhea. When Foreigner heard that word, she got a chill running down her spine. She still remembered the time when she nearly died by it. The feeling of her neck crumbling by an invisible force that she could do nothing against. To her, Rhea was not a beneficial magical energy that made chores easier, but it was a lethal invisible weapon floating in the air that could be detonated with the flick of a finger.

  “You good?“ Octavia nudged Foreigner with her elbow after quietly observing her as she became speechless.

  After a brief moment of silence, Foreigner opened her mouth with her eyes back to the ground. “I’m not sure how I feel about Rhea. It’s too…dangerous. Don’t you think?“

  Octavia nodded her head as if she understood the context. “Well, I suppose. But at the same time, not really. Like that sword you are carrying.“

  Foreigner looked at Octavia with a puzzled face, and Octavia cleared her throat before narrating her philosophy.

  “With that sword, you can rupture flesh, but you can also slice a loaf of bread. You can use it to murder someone, or protect yourself from a murderer. You can use it until the blade gets dull or hang it on the wall to view it in perfect shape. But no matter how you use it, it’s the same sword. In the end, a tool is a tool. It depends on how a bearer uses it. Sure, that ugly Vaz used Rhea to attack you. But that old man used it to take that dagger from you, because he knew you’ll get hurt by playing with it. Same Rhea, different people. That’s just that.“

  Foreigner felt unease and pouted lightly at Octavia for pointing out how she would have hurt herself with the dagger that she now proudly owned. When Octavia looked at her, she looked the other side with her lips sticking out forward, and Octavia smiled wickedly and wrapped her arms around Foreigner’s shoulder.

  “Say the truth, you are jealous cause you can’t use Rhea, right?”

  “Huh?! What? No! I—I don’t care about Rhea!“

  Foreigner did her best not to meet Octavia’s eyes, as hers were trembling from her secret desire being exposed. At such a delicious reaction, Octavia laughed out loud, leaving Foreigner pouting even harder from embarrassment. But suddenly, the smile dissipated from her face, and she stopped in her place, all the while gazing at a gigantic Vaz straying in front of their inn.

  He was wearing a white short-sleeved formal shirt and black trousers with suspenders over both of his shoulders. There was a bowtie on his neck that was too small compared to his wide shoulder, and his body was constructed in the golden ratio of muscles with veins visible above the skin. It was as if his clothes were fighting against his muscles to stay intact, but the competition was far too harsh, with only a few pumps of his muscles remaining before the tear. In every aspect, he was a Vaz that surpassed the normal means of physique, even by the standards of Vaz. But that wasn’t the only thing Octavia felt was off about him, as he had a bucket on his head with two small holes that had dents all over the place.

  The Vaz wandered in front of the inn with his eyes stuck on the entrance door until he noticed the gaze emitted from Octavia. With no time to spare, he rampaged straight towards Foreigner at an unbelievable speed with little to no breath lost. He splintered the street in two as he ran in perfect posture, and his eyes were fixed on Foreigner like a predator hunting prey. Octavia knew that it was far too late for her to pull her rifle out, and she had no choice but to face this berserker with her bare hands. It was not an overreaction to say that her and Foreigner’s lives were on the line.

  “Foreigner, get behind m—”

  “Oh, Chef Eskandar! What a coincidence to see you here!“

  “Good evening, Ms. Amonet! My deepest pleasure to see you out on this lovely day. Are you enjoying your first time off from work?“

  Only after Foreigner and the Vaz shared their greetings, Octavia learned she was the one overreacting.

  “Damn, Rurik. Can do nothing with that big head of his.“

  In the open field away from Abaskan, two Aranaims were guarding the remains of the stag-headed beast. The darkness covered the vicinity, with the only light coming from the dying fire on the torch, swaying heavily in the shrieking icy wind.

  “Look what we have to do because of his ‘plan.’ Guarding this rotting pile of garbage. I’m sure he’s making a scene out of this thing to save his face, filled with nothing but bullshit.“

  “Heh, heh. Right. He sure has a big mouth but the heart of a rat.“

  The other Aranaim joined the complaint with a shoddy wooden spear in his hand. Suddenly, a strong wind blew from the north and snapped the torch out of the fire. The complete darkness drew upon two Aranaims, yet that was not enough to stop the talk.

  “Great. Now we don’t even have a light. Perfect day to die, I suppose.“

  “Ooh, scared of the dark. I don’t think Sofiya would like a scaredy-cat.“

  “What?! Why is her name coming out here!“

  “Oh, please. Everyone knows you like Sofiya. Even Sofiya herself. Heh, heh, heh.“

  “Wha—Is that true?!“

  But there was no answer coming from within the darkness. Instead, the clattering sound of a wooden spear landing on the frozen land echoed through the terrific gust, followed by an ominous thud reverberating through the spine.

  “What was that? Hey! Are you there? Say somethi—“

  The Aranaim desperately looked for his partner, but the only thing he got to watch was his own body, standing still on the ground without a head. Soon, he felt the gentle grass tickling the top of his head, and his world went dark.

  “17th.“

  A hooded man with an arm made of metal and a blade dripping with blood sticking out of it spoke in a fractured voice with multiple frequencies tangled up together.

  As an answer to his call, a female Demerii in a white religious outfit with an exotic pattern scribed on the surface in gold color stepped out of the shadow with a gentle yet sinister smile devoid of life on her face. Her body was wrapped in several chains with a spiked blade at the tip over her clothes, exposing the feminine curvature of hers including the swollen belly. As the clouds obstructing the sky dissipated, she walked in the bright moonlight shining above her alongside the ominous clanking noise of the two chains dragging on the ground and her hand on top of her belly, gently caressing it with her soft and pale hand.

  “Dear, oh dear. What happened to you, beasts? I told you, haven’t I? No one can understand us except ourselves. Let’s go back to the place. Where we truly belong.“ The Demerii caressed the inanimate skull of the beast within her chest, which twitched faintly before falling into utter silence once again.

  “Hurry.“

  The hooded assassin released a low growl to hasten the Demerii, and the next moment the shrieking sound of Rhea cutting through the space echoed in the air. Following the fingertip of the Demerii, one of her chains reached out for the assassin’s throat with only a hair’s breadth left between it and the sharp blade shining luminously under the cold blue moonlight, and yet, the assassin did not flinch and continued his demand.

  “We don’t have time.“

  Even though a scene was being made, there was no tension between the two. Only then did the Demerii feel satisfied, and said as she got a smile back on her face. “I see why it gave me you for an escort. You truly are built different.“

  After dropping the skull of the beast onto the ground, the Demerii crossed her arms above her chest with her hands positioned on top of her shoulder. Then she grasped the void within her grasp and pulled it to the opposite, as if she were tearing a veil apart.

  The next morning, two brutally defaced bodies of Aranaims were found alongside the broken spear. There were no sightings of the beast anywhere.