The courtyard was thick with noise. Guild members moved in every direction; some rushed toward the gates, while others drifted back inside. Various squads tightened their gear, and the constant rhythm of boots and the hum of voices filled the area between the stone walls.
The two thirteen year old twins came dashing out of the Guild Hall, both flushed with excitement. Jaro waved a wrinkled sheet high over his head.
“Got it! Our contract’s approved!”
They skidded to a halt before Garric, proudly handing him the job contract.
He unfolded it. The edges were bent, the ink smudged, the whole thing looking like a rag long used to wipe soot from a forge.
“What did you two do to this? It looks like rubbish.”
The two pointed at each other in unison.
“He had it last!” Jaro blurted.
“Liar, you stuffed it in your boot, genius!” Teren snapped back.
Garric grimaced, holding up the pitiful sheet between two fingers. “Your boot?”
“It was safe!”
“Safe?” Teren barked. “You crushed it flat! Looks like you cleaned your boot on it.”
“You’re the one who dropped it first.”
“I didn’t drop it—“
“And I just stored it!”
“Stored it? On your sweaty foot?”
“It’s called strategy, fuzz-head. No one steals from a boot.”
“Enough, you two!” The squad’s big brother scolded. “Next time, I’ll lock you both in the stables.”
They did shut up though they kept shooting each other looks, each waiting for the other to take the blame.
Garric rubbed his hairless temple in defeat.
Before Lily could laugh, she saw a familiar figure crossing the square. “Dad!”
Samuel looked up and waved when he saw her.
“Are you heading home?” Lily asked.
“Aye. Work begins for me tomorrow. Today, I’ll take my rest while I can.”
The squad’s chatter died away. Then, like boys spotting a hero from an old tale, murmurs broke out.
“Is that—”
“Aye! ’Tis him, sure enough!”
“The Swordmaster of Solmyra himself…”
Finn practically shoved his crossbow forward. “Master Holloway! Would you… uh… sign this? Just here? Imagine the tavern stories I’ll tell.”
“What’s next, Finn? Ask him to shoot it for you?” Kellen side-eyed him but also held out his spiked whipchain. “Actually… sign mine too.”
Rowan slid in quick as a fox, flipping a knife in his palm. “There’s a fine stretch of steel just beggin’ for a legend.”
Also Brennar approached, hesitant but hopeful, easing Rosethorn from his shoulder. “If you wouldn’t mind… this too, please.”
Samuel laughed low while he took the crossbow, then the others one by one, scratching his initials carefully into steel, wood, and leather with the tip of a borrowed blade. “You’re worse than drunkards after a song.”
Lily folded her arms. “Now you see what kind of fools I’m stuck with.”
While the adults were lost in their trances, the twins' noses wrinkled in unison. A foreign, unusual scent had caught their attention. Following the smell like hounds, they wove through the crowd to Samuel’s side. As they drew close, the blade rattled on its own.
They both froze, their eyes glued to that odd hilt.
“It moved,” Jaro whispered. “Look T, it’s alive.”
Teren gave him a look like he’d just said the most absurd thing. “Alive? Are you hearing yourself?”
He leaned in anyway, curiosity getting the better of him, hand trembling as he reached for the hilt.
Just as his fingertips were an inch from the leather, Samuel suddenly gripped the sword with a speed that made both boys jump back in a panic. He looked down at them, showing no signs of anger.
“I wouldn't touch that,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “She bites”
The twins scrambled back, but after a moment, Teren crossed his arms. “Bites? It’s a sword, not a dog.”
“Why does it look like that?” Jaro inquired.
It was wrapped in dark, almost blackened leather, but the surface was uneven, with the ridges of cord bulging beneath like a scar. It didn’t look like a master’s weapon, it looked like a permanent bandage that had been stitched and reinforced over a wound that never healed.
“It looks like it’s barely holding on for dear life,” he roasted, gesturing bluntly at the lumpy grip. “Did you lose a bet to a blind cobbler? It looks less like a legendary sword and more like a club someone tried to mummify with scrap leather.”
“Be silent!” Garric hissed, delivering a swift cuff to the back of Jaro's head. He bowed quickly to the veteran. “Forgive him, Master Holloway. He’s tactless.”
The Swordmaster didn’t seem offended. Instead, he looked over his shoulder, concern flickering in his eyes as he felt that phantom shudder. The blade only moved like that when it sensed a threshold being crossed, whether by a nearby threat or a creature driven by instinct. He scanned the busy surroundings, Lily stood among the others calmly, only the guild members and the setting sun, he found the moment more amusing than alarming.
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“It’s alright,” he turned back to the boys. “I get that a lot, especially from the young ones.”
Finn, still clutching his signed crossbow like a holy relic, spoke up. “Is it true, then, Master? The whispers, they say the blade is cursed. That it’s heavy with the souls of the dead… and drinks the blood of its victims?”
Samuel grunted, though his beard twitched with a bit of fun. “The stories have a habit of growing legs and walking away from the truth. Every telling adds a new mile of nonsense.”
He glanced at them, almost entertained. “Still… I never get tired of hearing the different versions.”
His hand settled on the hilt. “Why not see it for yourselves? Decide what’s true with your own eyes.”
He drew the blade from its sheath.
The squad leaned in, expecting a burst of legendary light, but as the steel cleared the scabbard, a collective sigh of disappointment rippled through them. The metal was dull and darkened, covered in what looked like flaky, old oxidation.
“It looks like a piece of junk,” Jaro muttered, unable to help himself. “I’ve seen better iron in a blacksmith’s scrap bin.”
Samuel held the blade flat, the ugly patches of discoloration catching the light. “You may be right. But don’t be so quick to judge a thing by how it chooses to appear.”
He angled the sword slowly, letting it reflect across its surface as he present it before them.
“This isn’t an ordinary blade. She has a will of her own.” His grip tightened slightly on the hilt. “She decides when a fight is worth taking. She knows the difference between danger… and noise.”
He shifted his wrist, and the sword followed in a smooth, controlled arc in effortless and precise, like it weighed nothing at all.
“And when she decides it is worth it… She becomes keener than any blade you’ve ever faced.”
With a subtle shift, he rolled the hilt through his palm and turned his wrist inward. The blade followed, rising in a tight arc across his body before dipping low, the tip cutting a clean line through the air. He pivoted on his heel, guiding the motion rather than forcing it, and the sword swept back up in a smooth return.
A flick of his fingers sent the blade spinning once before it stopped dead mid-air, the edge hovering perfectly level as if caught on an invisible line. It was so perfect that it felt less like he had halted the blade… and more like the world had paused around it.
In the background, Lily watched her dad with pride.
He still has it, she thought, same old move.
Samuel stilled the blade.
“What you’re looking at now,” he added, “this… is restraint. She looks like scrap because she knows there’s nothing here worth killing for.”
He slid the blade back into its sheath with a rough clack.
“The world doesn’t need more heroes who are good at slaughter. It needs men who know when to fight.”
The squad went speechless. Even the twins looked humbled, their eyes drifting from the 'rusty' sword to the man who carried it with such skills how he handed it flawlessly.
“So…” Samuel casually said to break their silence. “Which of you is the captain?”
Darian finally appeared from the back; he had been quietly watching and listening to them the whole time. “I am. Darian Barnes.” He extended a hand. “And I owe you my thanks. Years ago, in that burning village, you saved my life. I was just a boy, but I never forgot.”
Samuel clasped his hand. “I hardly recall the details, but if you were there, then you know. I did only what had to be done.”
“Even so,” Darian placed a hand over his chest. “I will not forget. And I will not fail your faith. Your daughter is under my watch. She will not be left unwatched.”
“Funny, now he speaks straight without stuttering.” Lily raised a brow.
Samuel only smiled while the captain got nervous from Lily’s presence as he forgot she was still there.
“Alright, boys,” She turned back to the squad. “Harbor tonight. Later, then.”
A chorus rose in reply:
“You’ve got it!”
“We’ll guard the docks like hawks.”
“See you later, Holloway!”
They all waved like overeager squires parting with a hero.
Lily didn't say a word. She simply looked at her dad, then back at the fawning men, and slowly shook her head with a long, weary exhale. She gave her old man a pointed, 'see what I have to deal with?' look, her eyes tracking the starstruck group with resignation.
Samuel chuckled softly, catching her silent plea for sympathy as they turned to walk away together.
...
The sun had begun its slow descent by the time Holloway family reached their home. In front of their shabby barn stood Juliene, stripped down to his undershirt and glowing with sweat, nearly finished unloading stacks of hay from his cart and carrying them inside.
Lily’s face lit up. “Juliene!”
Samuel squinted. “What’s that pale boy doing here?”
Juliene looked back at the sound of her voice, his face brightening. He waved, but then stood straighter when he noticed Samuel beside her. He wiped his hands on his trousers and gave a respectful nod.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holloway. Lily.”
“Juliene, what are you doing here?” Lily asked as she walked towards him. “You brought hay? You don’t have to do that.”
He held out the small lamp she’d given him the night before. The glass gleamed. He polished it until it was clean.
“It’s just a thank-you.” He glanced down, then back up. “For everything last night. And… I’m sorry again about the trouble with the donkey. If you'd like, I can return him.”
Samuel waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. My daughter gave him to you. He’s yours now.”
Juliene’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, sir. I truly mean it. Your kindness has meant more than you know.”
Lily frowned slightly, concerned. “You didn’t have to spend your coin on all this.”
“Oh, I didn’t. I worked for it. Helped Farmer Giles harvest and stack dried grass all morning. He gave me more than enough in return.”
“But your heart... Juliene, you shouldn’t overwork yourself. What if it was too much?”
“I’m alright. I paced myself. And it felt good to do something helpful.”
Samuel stood back, quietly watching Lily. The way she looked at Juliene, the way she handed him her own towel to wipe the sweat from his brow to his topless body. It told him more than words ever could. They moved around each other with a care that spoke of something deeper. They moved like lovebirds circling, not knowing they’d already found the nest.
He said nothing.
Instead, he wandered over to the cart nearby. Running his hand along its side, he traced the fine lines of its craftsmanship. The wood was smooth and well-joined, with a tight and even grain. Carvings of grapevines and blossoms twined across the panels, delicate but strong. It was a cart made not just for work, but with pride.
“This cart…” Samuel ran a hand along its side. “It’s excellent work. The joinery’s clean. No splinters. And these carvings… someone knew what they were doing. Who made this? I might need help with our barn.”
Juliene smiled, with unexpected confidence from him. “I made it myself. I’ve worked with wood since I was eighteen. I’d be happy to help rebuild the barn. No payment needed.”
Samuel raised a brow, clearly impressed. He stroked his trimmed beard thoughtfully.
Before he could respond, Lily jumped in. “He’s really talented, Dad! You should let him help.”
“Alright. We’ll talk once I get the materials. It’s good to know there’s a skilled pair of hands nearby.”
He moved off to lead Merry and Midnight to their makeshift shelter behind the barn.
Lily turned back to her childhood friend. “Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”
“It’s the least I could do. Are you okay, though? How is everything at the guild today?”
She gave a tired nod. “Better now that I’m home. And… seeing you.”
“I know you will do well in the guild. You’ll get high rank soon enough. You’re amazing, Lily.” Then, he shifted awkwardly, glancing at the sky. “I should go… before it gets dark.”
Lily’s expression softened, her smile fading. “Of course. Thank you again. For the hay. For everything.”
“Always.” He held her gaze for a bit longer.
She walked with him to the edge of the path, the light casting gold along the hedges. When they finally parted, Lily stood watching until he vanished down the road. Seeing Juliene made her feel calm and light. His smile and kindness eased the heaviness she didn’t know she had been holding.
Later, the harbor would be her first test. Garric called it watch duty, no excitement, just patience.
Lily knew it herself that patience was the least thing on her list.
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