The Border City Ord 13

Win stands back up. His heart still once more, his knuckles begin to heal. As skin grows over the bloodied scrapes all over his hands he begins to walk. He still can’t bring himself to look at Calliope. He murmurs quietly under his breath.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t know himself who he is meant to be apologizing to. Whether it’s Calliope or Anzo, or somebody else entirely, he does not know.

Calliope follows after Win quietly. She doesn’t know whether he is truly feeling better or not, but he holds his head up high. Together they begin to descend the stairs, returning to the dank tunnels leading back to the prison tower. An orb of light and the spirit’s glow guide their way down.

When they return to the room, Win comes face to face with the strange magical tool. The path towards eternity. He reaches out towards it. It doesn’t throb with power as it had before Anzo had used it, and it does not respond. Win hesitates for a moment, uncertain of right and wrong. He shatters the crystal with a simple cursebreaking spell, not allowing doubt to cloud his heart any longer.

Win then sees Rolant, lying against the wall. Although only slight, Win sees the signs of life in his old frame. Win hoists Rolant onto his back in silence. Although he is more than strong enough, it’s somewhat awkward for him to carry someone so much larger than himself. With Rolant now dangling on his back, Win returns to walking, Calliope right beside him.

They walk in silence, the only noise in the tunnels the soft sound of their footsteps against the tightly packed dirt. Neither Calliope nor Rolant are in a state to talk, and Win has no desire to any longer. Win already feels he has said too much. He can only hope that Calliope will write off what he had said as a mad ramble spurred by the inability to save someone.

Win and Calliope soon reach the staircase on the other side of the tunnel, the other exit not far ahead. They emerge from the tunnels to the inside of the prison. With luck, there is not a single guard nearby. Perhaps the opened passage served as some signal, or perhaps Win has again been met with good fortune. When they step outside at last they find the sky has turned dark. Night arrived in the time it took for them to return to Ord.

Win feels Rolant begin to stir on his back. And soon enough he is awake, not a single step away from the tower being taken. His voice sounds more exhausted than ever, due course given how long he was unconscious.

“Win, put me down.” Win answers him as he obliges.

“Don’t call my name. It’s disturbing.” Rolant regains his bearings as he touches the ground.

“Very well, little lord. It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Rolant lowers his head to Win.

“Raise your head, you owe me no such thing. You saved my life; this was simply my own repayment. If anything I ought to remain indebted to you.” Rolant laughs somewhat weakly.

“You owe no debts to me, little lord. I would only shame myself, and the man I ought to be, if I kept you indebted to me.”

“Then this is the end. We’ll be off, if that’s alright.”

“Indeed it is.” Rolant begins to walk away. “And perhaps we might meet again one day. Preferably under a more auspicious star.”

Win and Calliope part from Rolant, and they go their separate ways. Win and Calliope walk through the dark streets of Ord, and soon return to the inn. Just as they are about to enter, Win comes to a realization.

“I forgot to have him return my sword. And we’re staying in the same inn, so we’ll return to the same place tonight regardless, and likely see each other again in the morning.” They walk inside. When Anterus sees them, Win especially, he falls prostrate before them. His back heaves with sobs of joy and relief.

“Thank you, sir. Truly. You kept your word. My daughter is again safe in my arms. I’ll repay this debt however I can, for as long as I live.”

“No, it was my own foolishness that endangered her in the first place. I’ve done nothing worth being thanked for.”

“No, sir, you mustn’t blame yourself, and I should never have blamed you either. So please, anything at all, just let me thank you.” Win sighs, defeated.

“Very well. Then allow us to impose on you slightly longer, at least until I can meet Rolant Guiscard and have him return my sword.”

“Of course, sir. That would never be a problem.” Just as Anterus says that, Rolant strolls in, somewhat bashful. Win quickly seizes the opportunity.

“Rolant Guiscard, return my sword to me.” Rolant reacts as though he had forgotten he had it in the first place. He pulls it out.

“Little lord, I’ve never seen a sorcerer so attached to a blade before.” Win’s face becomes slightly wistful.

“I’m not a sorcerer, but a spellsword. I’m a swordsman through and through. And that sword in particular was a gift from my master when he named me his successor.” Rolant gently places the sheathed blade in Win’s hands.

“I see. It seems I wronged you quite heavily then. I promise I will make amends one day. Just call upon me and I will aid you, little lord.” Win turns away as he fastens his sword to his hip once more.

“Know that such a moment will never come, Rolant.”

“Then it seems you and I will be bound by this matter for quite a while.”

Win hides a slight smile, and begins to leave the ground floor so that he might sleep. However, he hears a loud thud behind him, then two startled yelps. He jerks his head around. On the ground is Rolant, clearly pained.