VI

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Arc VI Chapter 13

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30th Ignis Lunar 753 AAC

“Hmm”, Felix mused, adorned in his resplendent dolman. His boots against the aged wooden floor resonated through the quiet space, drawing the attention of the shopkeeper.

Gregor's antiques and antiquities. Occidentalia, Orientalia, and Exotica. The name had piqued his curiosity. He entered. As expected, the shop was filled with relics and artefacts from eras long past. What caught his immediate attention, however, was a certain blade. A shashka. A sabre. The blade reflected the soft glow of the sun. His hand reached for the sword with a sense of longing nostalgia, almost instinctively. The blade spoke to him.

The shopkeeper was quick to notice his apparent interest. The man approached him with the polite smile of a vendor being able to sell sand to the Assyrians. “Ah, a discerning eye you have, Lord ...”

“...” Felix furrowed an eyebrow. How perceptive of him. Not that it was much of an accomplishment for a man of his profession. “Felix. Lord Felix.”

“Lord Felix, you seem to have taken a liking to the sabre. It is an old Kosak shashka ...”

“I know.” Felix cut him short, his fingers tracing the contours of the blade. The gold and silver. The metal engravings. The ornate hilt. The elegant curvature of the blade. The sword reminded him of the weapons of myth and legend, of the weapons wielded by heroes and champions. It was a beautiful blade, albeit primarily meant for ceremonial purposes and less for actual combat.

“Ah, I see.” The shopkeeper understood. “I must apologise. Judging by your attire and foreign accent, you must be Galizyean yourself, a noble experienced in the ways of war, no less.”

“Correct.” Felix swung the sword. The balance was excellent. The metal was even mana conductive. It was truly a beautiful blade. Such a shame for it to be trapped here, forever hidden in an antique shop from the eyes of the world. It was a situation that was meant to be corrected. “How much?”

The shopkeeper's face lit up, his business instincts sparked. “Ah, quite the direct customer, aren't we, Lord Felix?”

“Possibly”, Felix conceded. “Anyway, how much, ...”

“Gregor. My name is Gregor, Lord Felix”, the man introduced himself with a bow. “As for the price, 350 taler seem equitable.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Felix raised an amused eyebrow. “Equitable? You appear to jest, Gregor. I might be a noble, but I am not a bloody fool. 200 taler. That's my offer.”

Gregor smiled. “200? I hope you are joking, Lord Felix. Some might consider my prices unreasonable, but quality has its price. 325.”

“True ...” Felix was forced to concede, much to his annoyance. “What about 225?”

“With all due respect, Lord Felix, but we are not a charity. I can't charge less than 300 taler for such a valuable piece.”

“...” Felix deliberated. His price sounded ... acceptable. “You know, Gregor, I feel generous today. We have a deal.”

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A successful negotiation and an excellent purchase later, Felix now strolled through the charming streets with a second sabre holstered around his hips. He relished the considerate pace, the tranquillity of the moment, the freedom of leisure. The day offered him a measure of respite from his duties in service of the House von Ehrbach with plenty of time at his disposal. He welcomed the change. It was a pleasant respite from his usual more pedestrian errands as a mere henchman and other significantly less savoury affairs in the name of his liege, Lord Viktor. Today, however, was a peaceful day. Today, he was on his own. Today, he was his own master.

His senses savoured the scenery, every image, every smallest detail, every single impression. Freyburg was a bustling, a prospering city, deeply immersed in centuries of history. The city veritably breathed the ages gone by, and the times had treated it well. It showed.

Solid stone and heavy masonry dominated the architecture, in stark contrast to his homeland, Galizya. It was a noticeable difference even after all these years. Robust stone and masonry prevailed over expendable wood and timber. Possibly for reasons of availability. Stone was a material more difficult to come by in the vast plains of Eastern Eudia. Not as ubiquitous and readily available as timber and red brick.

Or probably for economic reasons. The countless wars against Novrhelia had emptied the coffers of the kingdom, impoverishing burghers and nobles alike. The price of freedom was heavy, one paid in blood and steel. The centuries of war had ravaged, devastated, desolated the land. Yet Galizya stood and fought, even when alone, in her struggle against the Empire and her forces. Such was not the case for Arcadia, and certainly not for the Duchy of Schwarzwalt. The long years, the decades of peace and stability, graced the lands of Arcadia with affluence and prosperity beyond their wildest imaginations, a gift rarely bestowed upon his war torn homeland. But such was the course of history. Such was the fate of small nations, the strong do what they can, the weak suffer what they must ...

Unknown to him, his wandering thoughts were about to cost the young noble dearly. Absent minded and sunk in thoughts, Felix failed to notice the approaching woman in time. The woman was approaching fast, veritably running, clad in full armour and in a hurry. It was too late to dodge. They collided. The unknown woman struck him directly, like lightning. The impact made him reel, sending him tumbling backwards despite her petite stature. The full force of her momentum brought him down.

Felix, however, was quick to regain a modicum of composure. His gaze fell on the unknown assailant. The woman certainly left a ‘striking’ first impression. Blonde hair and azure blue eyes. Armoured. A sword holstered around her hips. An adventurer maybe, a knight perhaps, possibly a soldier or mercenary judging by her appearance. And yet her face ... felt vaguely familiar, like the fleeting memory of a distant past. Had he seen her somewhere before? Not that it mattered. Faces were like the sand of the sea. Familiar, and yet so different.

Felix cleared his throat. “My apologies for my oversight, woman, are ... you ... all right ...” His eyes widened in disbelief, his limbs stiffened. Her hair. Her eyes. Her face. They weren't mere figments of his imagination. One year had passed, yet he remembered. He recognised the woman.

The woman interrupted his thoughts, offering him a sincere apology. “Sorry! Sorry! I am so sorry, but I really need to go!” Thus, she vanished amidst the crowd. The woman disappeared like she appeared.

“...” Felix was unable to comprehend. How ... How could this be? This was impossible. The woman was dead ... She died at Lord Viktor's hands. Her corpse perished in the fire ...

No, focus! Concentrate, Felix! Pursue. Identify. Verify. Validate. Report.

His reflexes, honed over years, kicked in, and his body snapped to attention, immediately seizing the opportunity, immediately commencing the pursuit. The woman was on the run again, gaining distance. He couldn't afford to lose her. He had to maintain contact. If she was truly who he thought she was, it was imperative to ascertain her identity. The priority was to collect information and report to Lord Viktor.

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