“I don’t know any more than the young man than you do, but his name is Magnus.” The hunchback told Lisk.

Lisk and the hunchback had trekked for over an hour now in order to avoid the pursuit of the dissenters. The one thing Lisk was curious about was that young man he witnessed. The young man’s sword movements were sharp and crisp, and agile as an eagle, which was surprising for someone with such a tall and bulky frame. Lisk could tell Magnus was definitely amazing in combat, although his style could have major weaknesses because of its predictability. To Lisk, Magnus seemed to be focused in precise and logical movements with his sword, and largely reliant on his strength and swift movements. However, there were very few elements of surprise when Lisk watched him swing his sword, Lisk pretty much knew Magnus’ every next move from watching his eyes and body.

“Where do you come from?” Lisk asked the hunchback.

“I’m a blacksmith. I am in Lower Birchland in the city of Equon.” The hunchback replied, “You can come find me if you need to forge a new weapon.”

“Are you expensive?” Lisk felt the rust and dirt on the sword that he carried, and realized how dull the metal was.

“Depends on the person.” The hunchback smiled.

“If I visit you, will you give me discounts.” Lisk inquired hopefully.

The hunchback chuckled, “Come and you will find out.”

Lisk did not really entertain with the idea of visiting the hunchback’s shop too much. He was poor, so he could definitely not afford new swords for even half its price. He doubted the hunchback will give him that big of a discount. So he switched topics to something he was more interested in, “Hey, how did you meet that guy, what did you say his name was, Marcus?”

“Magnus.” The hunchback corrected Lisk, “I met him at a tavern.”

Lisk nodded as he looked up at the sky. It was getting gradually darker. Lisk knew he wouldn’t make it back to his tent before nighttime, and he didn’t not want to travel in the dark, for unfamiliar roads contained unfamiliar beasts and passers. He needed a tavern to stay at, so he casually inquired, “Is the tavern close to here?”

The hunchback nodded, “It’s a few miles away.”

“Are you going back there?” The chilly wind was getting to Lisk, who wore only a layer of a very baggy and thin tunic, to contrast with the hunchback’s oversized coat.

“Yes I am.” The hunchback replied, “Rooms are about seventeen coins a night. Would you like to join?”

“I can’t afford it.” Lisk smiled bitterly.

“I’ll cover for you.” The hunchback shrugged.

“It’s okay, there has to be cheaper taverns in town.” Lisk genuinely hated to owe favors to people.

“You don’t want to go to those as a traveler.” The hunchback warned him, as they kept walked toward a busy crossroad, where a few carriages carried by white horses met them in their tracks.

They were no longer strolling around a path that was decorated by nothing but birch trees and bushes. Houses began emerging on either side of the road, and by the time they got to the crossroad, houses completely filled the side of the roads.

The carriages ahead of them blocked the entire width of the crossroads, and it seemed like the owners had intentionally lined them up to do so. Many annoyed bystanders looked on, but no one spoke. Lisk approached a short man wearing a turban who stood next to a brown horse, and tried to gauge what was going on, “What’s the hold up?”

The man, without looking at Lisk, sighed as he pointed to a line of people behind a narrow lane between two of the carriages. Each person passing through the lane was inspected by an armed man.

Lisk edged closer to see what was going on. As he weaved his way through the crowd to the front, he saw a man get smacked by the hilt of the guard’s sword. The man went onto his knees and clutched his head in pain, as a woman sobbed audibly, “He knows he made a mistake. Please spare him.”

The guard grunted, “If I wanted to kill him he wouldn’t be alive this minute. Now get the fuck out of here, both of you.”

As the beaten man and the woman scurried though the lane to the other side, Lisk saw the guard throw a white necklace into a bin, and another guard across him, slightly shorter and also armed, muttered, “Why did you let them pass, that thing is like six pops.”

The first guard shook his head, “They don’t have anything else anyway. That was the only jewelry on that woman. I didn’t want to search through that much filth.”

Lisk was starting to get what’s going on, and anger flowed through him as the next person, a seemingly well-dressed merchant, handed the taller guard a golden coin, smiling, as he walked through the lane.

A young man, carrying a bushel of corn, accompanied by his old mother was next up. “Please let us pass, my mother is very sick and…”

Before he could finish, the taller guard smacked him with the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the ground. “Leave the corn and fuck off.”

“I need this as a payment to the doctor, sir.” The young man begged.

The guard tried to hit the young man with the handle again, but this time the young man swiftly dodged the attack. Angered and insulted, the guard withdrew his sword and swung it at the young man. The blow struck his right shoulder, and blood fell down as the young man screeched in pain and his mother opened her mouth in horror. She appeared to be trying to say something but no words were coming out as she tried to go check up on her son. Perhaps she moved too quickly, she misstepped and fell.

Appalled and enraged, Lisk helped the old woman get up on her feet, and helped her towards her son. The old woman could only hold her hand over her son’s pool of blood flowing from his right shoulder shudderingly.

Lisk looked at the taller guard in contempt, and his gaze did not go unnoticed. The guard kicked Lisk in the legs and yelled, “The fuck you think you are, bastard.”

Lisk stood tall, to the guard’s surprise.

As the guard sheathed his sword and swung overhead down at Lisk, Lisk withdrew his own sword to parry the guard’s attack. Upon the first contact, Lisk knew immediately these guards were no men of might. He pulled his sword back and aimed for the guard’s heart, anticipating the guard to move out of the way clumsily. Lisk hoped the guard’s slow movements would open opportunities for Lisk to disarm the notorious bully.

The guard’s speed and reaction was not something Lisk could have possibly anticipated. The man, slender and slightly taller than Lisk, could not move out of the way in time. Lisk’s sword had pierced through the guard, and screams, followed by chatter, echoed around the crossroads.

Lisk’s whole world was sputters. He wasn’t processing anything going on around him. This was the first time he had killed, and it was in front of a huge crowd of people. How did this happen? What will become of him now? He had only meant to disarm the guard, but how could this, how could this happen.

“He is not trained in any sort of combat.” He heard someone whisper to his ears, “You overestimated him and his reaction and skills. Let’s go.”

Lisk didn’t move, or even bother to look at who was talking to him.

“We need to leave here right now.”

Lisk realized it was the hunchback talking to him, but he still didn’t move.

“I’m getting out of here.”

After a few seconds, Lisk finally had came to his senses. The other guard had disappeared, but the carriages were still there. People passed through the lane between the carriages and dispersed quickly. Too afraid to be left alone, he chased after the hunchback.

“Hurry, let’s get to the tavern.” The hunchback gestured Lisk to speed up, who quickly caught up.

The walk was mostly filled with silence, as they took the eastern path of the crossroads. There weren’t many people that traveled on this path, for it led to Lower Birchland. Lower Birchland had sparsely populated towns, and was surrounded by a desert. In fact, some people even refer to Lower Birchland itself as a desert, and not without good reason either. Despite being called Lower Birchland, there were hardly any birch trees there; Residents were met with a scorching sun in the summer and a unstoppable gale at night. The place did have its own unique appeals though, for the mountains were famous for their abundant ores, so it was perfect for the miners. Overall, though, the place generally did not extend an invite to large crowds.

“Boy, get a grip of yourself.” The hunchback was disturbed by Lisk’s silence, “This won’t be the last one.”

“Won’t be the last one?” Lisk said incredulously, unsure if he was talking to himself or the hunchback or somebody else.

“With the way things are shaping throughout the land, there will be war soon. The best you can do is to protect yourself. Let’s sit here.” They have entered a fairly crowded tavern. Most were a good deal of merchants with baggages that would give any man carrying them a good training. Although there were a few people that carried weapons with them, perhaps guards or soldiers. The hunchback’s eyes drifted toward an old man sitting in the corner.

“Copper? That’s a first.” The hunchback seemed critical of the old man’s sword. The old man sat in the corner against the wall, reading a beat-up book and occasionally sipping from his wineskin.

Lisk glanced at the old man and realized the problem, too. Copper swords were generally ineffective, and the old man would not be able to hold against steel weapons with that. Perhaps the old man was simply a showman? Lisk didn’t give it more thought.

The hunchback’s interest did not wane, though. He continued staring at the old man until the old man noticed him and stood up. He was taller and more vibrant than Lisk had expected. His face said sixty, but he walked with such firmness and energy that he might as well have been thirty.

The old man walked towards the hunchback, and ran his eyes down the slightly unkempt blacksmith , “You must be the renowned sword crafter.”

The hunchback chuckled, “You got all three parts wrong.”

“Did I mistake you for someone else?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t see how I am renowned, yes, a few have heard of me, but that is about it. Also, I make more than just swords. As for crafter, I’m a blacksmith, and that is all I am. There are other geniuses behind the crafts.”

“A damn fine blacksmith you are then.” The old man smiled, “The name is Shantorico, or just Rico.”

“Shantorico Who Treks the Camelback Plains?” The hunchback was taken aback.

“Indeed.” Rico grinned.