The Wandering Sword

Four fingers and a thumb firmly held a rod of transparent crystal, which was connected by a cable to a rectangular metal box. A bluish line projected onto a small, bright screen. A constant beep emanated from it through small holes on its surface.

"This has to be a joke…" A man muttered bitterly, seated in front of the machine in incredulous irritation. The device wasn't fulfilling its purpose. The fact that this had been one of his many failed attempts to get it to work in the last few hours only heightened his frustration.

Struggling to control his anger and not break the machine, he roughly placed the rod into a holder beside the apparatus. Instead, he vented by hitting the table on which the box rested with the palms of his hands.

What the hell is wrong with these contraptions?! Even the spares don't work! he protested inwardly. He couldn't understand how all the Letexvos, those singular boxes from that secret communication chamber, were presenting the same issue. No matter how much he and a specialist examined them, they found no anomalies or malfunctions that could explain such behavior. He simply couldn't establish any connection; all the lines were dead without any explanation. Once again, the urge of Ser Janpelan of Salamandera to relay his news to his Lord was thwarted by another unforeseen circumstance.

A door was opened and closed behind him. Someone had just entered the room. Ser Janpelan turned to see. It was a young man dressed in the uniform and armor of a foot soldier from the Kingdom of Niespal, the Ser's realm. His tense muscles and wide-open eyes well reflected his own urgency.

"Huh?" The Holy Warrior soon recognized him. He had been in his service in Cirencre for over a year, so he knew him well. "Escabor?"

The Holy Warrior began to suspect the worst. It couldn't be anything good if a soldier from his city had come to find him there.

"I have a report to give you, Ser! They told me you were around here," he informed him. "I'm sorry to report… the corsair we captured is dead."

"What?!" Indeed, he hadn't come to see him for anything good. His list of recent misfortunes had just received a new entry. "You said… he's dead?"

"Yes," Escabor nodded. "We found his body in his cell when we went to check on him this morning. There was foam in his mouth," the soldier detailed. "Apparently, he poisoned himself with some hidden venom."

The Ser clenched his hands, veins protruding on their backs. That was all that was missing to start off the day on the wrong foot. His only bridge to the "vanguard" mentioned by the pirate captain had collapsed.

"The mother who bore him!" His right palm shattered the table into pieces with a single, unrestrained strike. The machine crashed violently onto the floor along with the wooden fragments. The Holy Warrior smiled in embarrassment, astonished by the instant disaster his primitive outburst had created. On the other hand, the soldier also curved his lips, but in an expression of fear at witnessing that spontaneous display of strength.

Ser Janpelan rose from his chair and turned to the scared subordinate.

"This is bad, very bad… Something very strange is happening, and we've already lost too much time," the Ser concluded, concerned about the current situation. That, along with his “accident," extinguished the fire of his anger as quickly as a wave of water. The Holy Warrior stared intensely at the soldier. "Listen! I'm going to write a message that has to reach all the bases of the Holy Houses in Najta and Elvira. We'll use all the carrier pigeons and messengers we can. This can't be delayed any further."

***

A pair of travelers journeyed along a smooth and uniform path surrounded by woods: unending rows of firs arranged in formations resembling military squadrons. Their sharp, narrow forms resembled green daggers pointing toward the sky.

The travelers were a stark contrast: one of them, a knight in gray armor, maintained a steady and unwavering pace despite the heavy metal box hanging from his shoulders. The second, a young woman, could barely walk behind her companion, burdened by a heavy cloth backpack on her shoulders. Her drooping arms and shoulders were signs of exhaustion, along with her sweat.

"Mavros... let's rest for a bit," Luciara pleaded with the wandering knight. She stopped to clutch her knees, catching her breath with repeated panting.

Mavros slowed down and looked over his shoulder at her. He noticed that she truly needed it.

"Alright," he agreed.

He went to join her by the side of the road. Both remained silent, enveloped in the soothing tranquility of nature. Apart from the two of them, there was no one else in this stretch of the journey. Luciara took the opportunity to drink some water from a canteen.

"We've been walking for nearly four hours," Mavros estimated. "We must be very close to Hezaran."

The young woman closed and secured the canteen after finishing her drink.

"How do you manage to walk so much without getting tired?" she asked him. She still found it surprising that throughout the journey, the knight hadn't shown the slightest hint of exhaustion. He had only stopped now and then because of her; if it had been up to him, he would have continued without pause.

"Habit, constant training, that's the secret," came his simple reply. "When you get used to pushing your body through these kinds of exercises every day, gradually tasks that you used to find exhausting become trivial."

"Every day?" Luciara observed him, astonished, far from enthused by what he was implying. "Seriously?"

An approaching sound interrupted the conversation. The sound of something dragging across the ground fiercely. It emerged from a bend in the road and revealed itself, moving in the opposite direction. It was an elongated, rectangular metal carriage with four wheels: two at the front and two at the back. It propelled itself without the aid of horses, as if it were a beast in itself. A steel beast capable of far exceeding the speed of even the swiftest gallop thanks to its nefesh heart.

A curros, Luciara recognized the unusual vehicle, watching as it passed by her side like a shooting star, disappearing on the horizon in the other direction of the road. It was going quite fast, much faster than usual... Why would it be in such a hurry?

The young woman had good reasons to feel intrigued. Those vehicles weren't very common, and their ownership was restricted by the kingdoms for military and public transportation purposes. This one, in particular, was of a military nature. She had observed the flag of her kingdom and the Holy House of the Royal Rose painted on its panels.

Mavros also managed to catch that detail. During their walk, they had seen others pass by, but only civilian ones: one of which the girl would have taken if she hadn't been forced to undergo that physical trial.

"Well, we've rested enough," the knight judged, standing up. About five minutes had passed since they had sat down. "We should... Hm?"

An unsettling tingling ran through his body like lightning.

My nefeshic sense detects something! He had perceived something, something wild and dangerous. His muscles tensed and straightened into an alert posture.

"Mavros?" Luciara watched him, disoriented by this sudden change. Her less acute senses were still ignorant of what he had detected.

But that changed very soon.

A strident roar resounded beyond the trees in front of them.

What the...?! She jolted upright, her skin turning as white as a cloud. That hadn't been just any roar; it was agonizing, heart-rending. It was the sound an animal would make with its last breath, the final flames of its life. The sound it would make as it fell prey to bloody violence.

Mavros positioned himself in front of Luciara.

"Don't move, stay behind me," he ordered her, his cold seriousness revealing the severity of the danger. He gripped the hilt of his sword with his right hand, poised to draw it. Though he couldn't see it due to the dense trees, he sensed the movement of the threat, keeping it in his gaze.

Thankfully, he noticed it moving away from them. There came a point where its presence became almost insignificant. After tense seconds, the knight released his hilt. He took the lead, a few steps forward.

"We're safe," he paused to inform his companion, still immobile. "We can continue."

Somewhat hesitantly, the lady prepared to follow him and resumed their march.

"That was scary," she commented, clear traces of shock in her voice. "What on Mater was that?"

"From the sound of it... I'd say it was a stag," Mavros told her. "It must have been hunted by some forest beast."

"That's what surprises me," Luciara said, growing more fearful as she delved into it. "It's known that bears and wolves live in these woods, but they usually don't come this close to humans."

If it was a 'bear' or some 'wolves,' they weren't the ones she imagines, the knight reasoned. It wasn't the first time he had this feeling, not the first time he had detected this unsettling sign. He knew very well what it belonged to, knew how terrible it could be, but he chose to keep it hidden from the girl, not to frighten her more than she already was.

The two walked on until the path finished ascending and started to slope gently downward. At the end of it, a village of buildings with brick roofs, walls, and tiles came into view, similar in style to those of Cirencre but smaller and simpler for the most part. They clustered in several blocks along valleys with undulating hills all around. A basilica with a pair of twin domes stood out in the center of the settlement. The domes' tips ended in small observation towers: helms maintaining an impassive watch over those domains.

"We've arrived, this is Hezaran," Luciara announced to the knight, coming to his side and gazing alongside him at the village's perspective.