We didn't go to the slums, instead, I walked to the old man's place flanked on either side by him and Ed. The cave-like house looked the same as it always had from the outside, if I didn't know better I would have said that all was fine.

With some trepidation, I watched as the old man unlocked the heavy door and allowed me to enter. Inside looked ordinary as well. There is nothing out of place except for a small box on the kitchen counter. I pointed at the box and the old man nodded in response.

As I got closer I noticed a small stack of paper next to the box, a quick scan revealed that they were an application to the fleur guild. On top of the box was a note written in cursive filled with unnecessary flourishes that read: 'Don't worry little Rose they are safe with me. Hand the papers to the front desk in the morning. Don't be late, or I will send a bigger box next time.'

They are safe with me? Did she get to Mother and Auntie? Is that why they never came back? I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and immediately regretted it as a faint irony stench coated the back of my throat. The little ornate box gave off the barest whiff of blood.

I unlocked the metal clasp, flicked the lid open and retched. The box contained a row of emaciated thumbs, some of them were so tiny… It was something so unfathomable to me that I wasn't even upset. Why? I barely knew the woman. Our interactions weren’t friendly but they were brief. Why was this act of cruelty her first choice?

I couldn't summon any tears, what I did have was hatred in its most undiluted form. The people of the slums had suffered enough already and the kids were innocent, even the oldest was still a year too young for the rite. Why can she just get away with something this horrid? The great forge in the heavens only punished you for your misdeeds after death. Laws exist to punish you during life but it seemed like she was immune to them. I didn't know how. I didn't know when. But I'd find a way to make her pay.

Against the wishes of the old man, I asked that we serve the stew together as planned but few of the people of the slums were in the mood to eat, especially those directly affected. According to the witnesses, goons stormed the place grabbing every child they could find before abducting them. The guards as usual were nowhere to be seen and any reports to them were ignored. If this had happened on the surface there would be rioting in the streets until the guards found the culprits.

"Are you sure about this? You know that she'll do something worse if you don't go."

"I'll go."

The old man looked an odd mix of relieved and regretful. If I was going to leave tomorrow I wanted to get something off of my chest first,

"But I think I've decided that I don't agree with you. None of this is okay. I don't want to just lie down and accept that this is how the world should be."

It was blunt but the old man nodded,

"I didn't think you would, so if you won't choose acceptance, what answer have you come to?"

"I still don't know but my gut feeling right now is to save the kids. I couldn't be there when Alessia needed me, right now there's still a chance that I can find a way to keep them safe. It's not too late.”

The old man locked eyes with me and for a moment I saw a vaguely familiar strength in his gaze, though I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before,

"If you ever feel like you are in danger and there is nothing you can do, run to the church, Joan. They will help you, keeping their fellow man safe is their sworn duty."

The old man never struck me as a particularly religious person. I hadn't once heard him pray like my mother but if anyone had earned my trust it was him, so I kept his words in the back of my mind.

I spent the rest of that day singing for the poor people and trying to reassure or console them in whatever small way I could. For now, it was just empty platitudes and hollow promises but I intended to make them real. In my mind I knew what must be done:

To save the children from being killed or guarantee their safety. If that woman wasn't lying then they are still alive and if she wants my cooperation they would stay that way. The opposite was true as well, I wasn't able to turn my blade against her or leave as long as they remained her captives.

I needed to improve my strength and agility with a focus on agility. I could fend off a starving man at my current level of strength, but any able-bodied person was probably too much for me even before they manifest their blade. I remembered the deceptively powerful body that the stall workers had, maybe I could receive similar training, I was willing to swallow my emotions if it meant that I had a higher chance of succeeding. I didn't like the idea of cooperating with that monstrous woman but I saw no other way at this time.

I would practise my blade tending in secret. Letting her know that I will never get an Animus-blade heavily reduces my bargaining power and value but I didn't want my skill to stagnate. I'd kick myself if it ever became necessary and I couldn't perform when the occasion demanded.

And I'd need to survive the rite next year if I couldn't save the kids with the ten remaining months. This year almost killed me when I failed to resist the cacophonous song. I needed to know if that was a normal experience for blade tenders and how to stop it from happening again. I also needed to have a plan if I did survive as I wouldn't have the same rights or legal protections if I was a verified bladeless.

When we got back to the old man's place I decided to ask him to let me try sword tending on him. All I said was,

“Meet me in my room.”

and when he arrived I used clothes and rugs to stuff any cracks in the door.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.

"I need to be completely sure that no one overhears what I'm going to say."

Once I was certain that there weren't any gaps left, I spoke,

"Did you ever wonder why I chose to sing for the people of the slums?"

The old man shook his head and I continued,

"I wasn't attacked during the rite. I think I'm a blade tender, when people manifest their Animus-blades I can hear them singing. My father died before I was born, but I was able to sing with my father's sword and receive abstract visions of his life."

The old man's eyes were as wide as dinner plates yet he still sat in silence allowing me to unburden myself of my secrets without judgement.

"When those great doors cracked open during the rite I was overwhelmed with a song so complex that I couldn't attempt to understand. It was so loud that I thought my head was going to explode and once I acknowledged it I… I mean you've heard the stories of what happened to me."

The old man looked at me in disbelief and confusion, like he was staring at some unknown creature for the first time. I had expected him to be shocked to learn I was a blade tender, most people found them creepy or actively hated them but he just kept staring as if in trance.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, please can you keep this a secret? I can't let this information get out."

Finally, my words snapped him back to reality and he fumbled around his next words,

"No. Wait sorry, I mean, no it's my fault, I'm the one who's sorry. You just. You said a lot all at once and this old brain was just having trouble sorting it all out."

He paused wanting to say something but having trouble finding the words, he opened his mouth and inhaled before lightly shaking his head and thinking once more. After a while of watching him, he eventually held a hand out and an orb of white light appeared shattering into his telekinetic dirk. As soon as it appeared I could once again hear the jaunty skipping melody that I'd grown accustomed to.

"Can you hear this?"

"Yes, I can sing what I'm hearing without tending if you'd like."

He nodded and without acknowledging the dirk I began to sing the jaunty tune. I'd grown quite comfortable holding back the instinct to begin tending throughout our time together. So I imitated the melody without holding back until the song looped.

"It's exactly like that. Even those little bits that sound like I'm skipping chunks of the song."

I was so invested in my performance that I hadn't noticed the old man barely holding back tears, I hadn't seen him upset like this so I began to panic but he calmed me down,

"I'm fine, it's just something about that song, it was hitting me hard. Heh, if rumours are to be believed then that might have been the music of my soul."

"Rumours? What rumours?"

"Word is that the reason why a tender can see or feel what troubles a person is that they can look into your soul, see the real you, the one you hide under all your layers of personality and deception."

Finally, some information that was more than a scattered reference! I'd forgotten the simple joy of acquiring useful new knowledge, I didn't have access to any books for a while, so I jumped at the chance to learn more.

"Do you know anything else?”

"Afraid I don't have much for you. It's different from what you described. Apparently, tenders can only find out what someone's regrets and insecurities are. You pay them some money and then they tell you all sorts of things you wish you'd never heard. With rumours like that, I wasn't eager to see one myself."

While still holding his dirk he made some struggling and strained faces before asking,

"Was there any change?"

"No, the only time I heard a song change was when I started tending my father's sword."

"You've taken a great risk entrusting me with your secret, so I will be open with you in turn. Could you close your eyes and not open them for me, Joan."

I did as he asked and heard him say "Good, let me know if anything changes."

I waited and nothing changed in his dirks song until it cut off abruptly.

"It stopped just then."

"Alright keep your eyes closed."

I waited again expecting to hear the jaunty song once more but instead. A deep and powerful monastic thrumming ran through my body and shook my bones. A wordless song that sounded like the chant of one gigantic monk lost deep in a fervent prayer blasted my ears and the urge to acknowledge the song was overpowering. I remembered this. My eyes shot open as I said,

"The head priest is near."

It took a moment for me to realise the situation I was in, the same old man that I'd been working with for just over a month had a large black greatsword resting on his palms, it was extremely plain with its only notable feature being the extreme width of its blade, it looked big enough to split a horse in two.

"Be at ease. I am before you."