Volume 01 - Chapter 2: A Sword, a Stone, and a Barmaid (Part 3)

The crowd surrounding the sword has thinned, leaving the sword visible from afar. Three young men grab at the sword, each laughing at the others’ attempts.

Mizuka drags the girl close to the sword before she finally stops resisting. The appearance of two beautiful girls renders the men silent for a moment before they return to their futile task. Yet, they cannot stop their gazes from drifting toward the girl’s mind-melting uniform.

“Go on.” Mizuka nudges the girl forward.

“It’s impossible. There’s no point.” She whimpers, cheeks crimson.

“Mizuka, she made it clear she can’t pull it out on her own. This is a waste of time.” I step between them and the sword.

“Move, servant boy. My presence may produce a different outcome. She’s not losing anything by trying again.”

“Maybe not, but she doesn’t want to right now. Let’s come back when no one else is around.”

“No. I’ve finally located one of my fragments. I will not waste another second until it is mine again.”

“I-It’s fine, mister, umm…”

“Call me Leo.”

“Leo…I don’t mind trying again. I just need to gather the courage first. Please, step aside. There’s no need to waste your energy on someone like me.” The girl pulls her fluffy twintails forward, tugging on each.

“Whatever you say.” I line up beside Mizuka and face the girl. “Seeing as we’ve started introductions, what should we call you?”

“Whatever you like. I don’t have a preference.”

“Eh? You said you don’t have a name, but your coworkers and customers must’ve been calling you by something all this time.”

“Nothing in particular. ‘Hey you’ or ‘barmaid’ sufficed. My boss tried to give me a name, but I refused.”

“Why didn’t you want one?”

“Because it wouldn’t be mine. The sword hides my true name, and I don’t wish to be called by anything except it.”

“Still…isn’t there something we can call you to get your attention?”

“‘Barmaid’ is fine.” Her tone shifts. Still bright and cute, but more forceful.

“Seriously? Seems a little callous. Don’t you think, Mizuka?”

“In what way? Is it not her occupation? Calling her by its title is perfectly logical.”

“Exactly. I deserve nothing more.” She grins, facing Mizuka. “B-By the way, you called Leo your ‘servant boy’, yes? Might I ask what your relationship is?” Her blush deepens.

“He belongs to me, so he is my servant.”

“No way, you belong to me.” I don’t want this girl…no, Barmaid getting any weird ideas.

“Geh…yes, yes. You are mine, and I am yours—don’t remind me. However, I am the master, as I make all the important decisions. Leo would’ve never escaped his miserable existence without my help.” She thrusts out her modest chest, flat compared to Barmaid’s.

“If not for me, you’d still be flaunting your naked body to strangers in the forest.”

“L-Leo?! Do not mention that again!” She seizes my collar and shakes hard. “Accept your position as servant with what little pride you have!”

“…Fine. I wish you’d stop calling me that, though.”

“I’ll do as I please…Now, Barmaid, what was it you were asking?”

“N-Nothing…just that…if you want, I can…I can be your servant as well.” She holds rock solid, face down, arms pressing her breasts together.

“Excuse me? I don’t require your permission, girl. You already belong to me and therefore cannot be a servant. You are less than a servant. A fragment. A mere object.”

“Mizuka?! That’s too far—even for you.” I step between them, arms outstretched, shielding Barmaid.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think me heartless?”

“I didn’t say it.”

“Leo! I’ll not stand one more second of your inso—”

“Master!” Barmaid’s shrill cry bursts my eardrums as she pushes me aside and barrels into Mizuka.

Grabbing her with a bear hug, she rubs her face against Mizuka’s, smiling, eyes spinning. Shaking hips, cries of pleasure, glorious, white mounds pressing, threatening to spill. The other men, now giving us their full attention, bend forward, jaws dropped.

“W-What are you—release me…you’re too close…get off me…right now.” Confusion contorts Mizuka’s face as her cheeks cycle through every shade of red.

Barmaid bounces back, breathing hard. Mizuka adjusts her clothes and smooths her messy hair.

“Forgive me, Master. No one’s ever said something so wonderful to me. Please, punish me as you see fit.”

“Punish? No, you are forgiven. I was merely surprised. If you wish to show your affection in such a manner, please ask first.” Mizuka scratches her cheek. Did she enjoy that…?

“I am?” Barmaid’s smile evaporates.

“Yes. Should I ever wish to punish someone—Leo will suffice.”

“Don’t make me pay for other people’s mistakes.”

“Can you do anything else productive?”

“Who do you think is financing this quest?”

“Certainly not someone who thinks broom closets function as hotel rooms.”

“Would you rather sleep outside?”

“I’d rather you stop pestering me so we can return to the task at hand.” She shoos me off, turning toward the sword. “Get over there and reclaim yourself.”

Barmaid shudders, having forgotten why Mizuka dragged her here. “Do I really have to?”

“Yes, hurry up.”

“B-But there are others…We should let them finish.”

“Very well. But we ought to tell them they’re wasting their time.”

“Let them have their fun.” I step closer, all three of us standing in a row near the sword. “This is probably the most interesting thing to do in this part of Halivaara.”

“Hmm? What of the other areas?” Mizuka folds her arms.

“Nothing but farmland, spare Dragonwall.”

“Anything of interest there?”

“All sorts! Libraries, boutiques, restaurants, specialty booksellers, plenty of rare stuff.”

“You consider those to be rare?” She laughs, giving me a scrutinizing stare. “You may be an interesting person after all, Leo.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Toss it out of your mind. Instead, I’d recommend a peek at the interesting person next to us.” She muffles her voice with a hand.

My limited vocabulary is incapable of describing her, but Barmaid elicits the same emotions I experienced upon discovering Mizuka hovering over the lake. Surprise, intrigue, and a dash of—well, let’s say…carnal desire.

She squirms, no, wriggles, like a worm…no, too disgusting. Regardless, she moves her body in an inhuman manner, wearing an expression of sheer bliss. A goofy smile paints her lips, lines of sweat trickle from beneath her bangs, and she pants, taking sharp breaths. Following her hazy eyes, I find the group of young men still trying to claim the sword.

Two have already conceded. The last boasts of his prowess and flexes his well-sculpted biceps, making the others scoff. Barmaid freezes, holds her breath. The man approaches and poses before grabbing the sword’s hilt. Barmaid twitches once but freezes again. He pulls, pushes, and growls as he tries to remove the sword, his muscles bulging with each movement.

Again, Barmaid twitches but fails to remain still this time and restarts her strange undulations. The man stops after his companions are left breathless laughing at his failure. They depart soon after, leaving us alone with the sword.

“Umm…Barmaid?” I’m sure to regret my curiosity—but. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Huh?!” She snaps out of whatever trance had arrested her. “Fine, fine. Wonderful. I didn’t expect to be treated twice in one day.” She giggles, hands pressed into her cheeks.

“Were those three really that entertaining? I thought you didn’t want people to claim your sword.”

“N-No, I still don’t. But I learned after a while no one will ever be able to pull it out, so I don’t mind watching now…rather, I enjoy it.”

“Seeing them fail so many times is funny in a way.”

“Funny?!” She lurches, glaring at me with straining eyes. “No, no, no. Their touching me in such a violent manner is no laughing matter.”

“T-Touching you? You mean the sword?” She’s close and smells nice and those wonderful, shiny-with-sweat mounds are inches from mashing against my stomach.

“Don’t you get it, Leo? The sword is me, and I am the sword. For people to hold me tight, push me, pull me, watch others have their way with me…oh! It’s too much. Watching so many thousands of people grab at me for so long; I can’t describe what effect it’s had on my worthless self. Especially when a mighty man like the last one takes hold…those huge muscles, that square jaw…ahh, the way he treated me with such force…I, I, I just lose control.”

“B-Barmaid? Hello? Are you ill?” Fearing she might collapse, I grab her shoulders.

“L-Leo?!” Her body convulses with far greater strength than I thought her capable. “Not you too…I, I’m not ready.” She looks left, body going limp.

“Enough of this!” Mizuka pulls Barmaid away, shaking her back into consciousness. “If you don’t pull out the sword right this instant, I really am going to punish you.”

“Then I will remain still.” Expectation sparkles in Barmaid’s eyes.

“Is this madwoman truly a part of myself…? How about this? If you don’t do as I say, I’ll only treat you with the sweetest, loving kindness from this point forth.”

Barmaid’s excitement turns to panic as she dashes to the sword. Mizuka smiles in triumph and tells her to quit wasting time.

Still not in the mood, she grinds her shoe into the dirt and sighs. “I’ll try.”

With immense hesitation and a sorrowful frown, she wraps her slender fingers around the sword’s grip. She pulls once, with little effort. Mizuka demands she yank harder. She does, straining her back, pushing forward, and kicking at the stone.

“I’ve seen enough; you may stop.” Mizuka snorts in irritation.

“…Sorry.” Barmaid tiptoes back to us.

“You are not to blame. I didn’t expect reclaiming my fragments to prove a simple task, but we must tread every available avenue. So, Leo, it’s your turn.”

“Me? What for? If you two can’t, there’s no way I can.”

“Even so, I want you to try. Doing so will take only a second.”

“…Might as well.” I do want to try like everyone else.

Halfway, I’m stopped by a tug on my shirt. Barmaid stands frozen, my shirt held lightly between her thumb and index finger.

“Something the matter?”

“Don’t,” she whispers, staring up but avoiding eye contact. ”Please…you shouldn’t…I mean, it would be embarrassing…yes, much too embarrassing.” So she says, yet her cheeks are not flushed but bloodless. Terror dances in her wandering gaze.

“Right…I wasn’t thinking.” I force a smile and turn to Mizuka. “Sorry. You heard her. I’ll pass.”

“Whatever.” Mizuka sighs. “What do you propose we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Unless you have some idea of how to retrieve the sword, we’re fresh out of aforementioned avenues.”

“Nope. Shouldn’t you know more about it than me? It is a part of you or whatever, isn’t it?”

“I-I do, but no information that will help us retrieve it…Barmaid, have you any ideas?”

“No, Master. Had I, I’d have tried them already.”

“Wait a second.” I rip off my shirt. “Thought so. See? This sword mark, doesn’t it resemble the one in the stone?”

I receive no answer, only a blush from Barmaid and head-shaking disbelief from Mizuka.

“Have some shame, Leo. And warn us before you start stripping.”

“My bad, but still…wait, warn you? You mean you won’t mind if I strip?” Not that I have any intention of doing so.

“Obviously, I will! Are you suggesting I’m some degenerate who enjoys public indecency?”

“No, but after learning of Barmaid’s…predilections, I can’t help but assume you have similar interests—her being a part of you and all.” Barmaid grins and covers her face while Mizuka approaches with a white-knuckled fist raised. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry. See? Don’t the swords look alike?” I point at my mark.

Her arm falls limp. “I admit they share some features, but that’s obvious given both are related to myself.”

“Sure, but isn’t it odd they’re nearly the same? Finding one sword with such beautiful craftsmanship is rare, much less two in the same vicinity. The lake where I found you and this stone are too close to be a mere coincidence, no?” I talk fast, waving my arms.

“Perhaps. Admittedly, I was surprised to find a fragment but one day into our quest.”

“Let’s try asking around Gamaloth. Not just about the sword, but about the lake as well.”

“I see. Even if we learn nothing of the sword, someone may know that which might lead us to relevant information…Excellent work, Leo. You have my thanks.”

“S-Sure.” Mizuka’s kind smile sets my ears ablaze.

“Barmaid, you must be acquainted with many people given your occupation. Introduce us to someone who knows much about Halivaara.”

“Of course, Master. I’ll do my best.” Barmaid’s former sullenness vanishes as she snaps up straight.

“We’re following you.” Mizuka points at the path back to Sparrow’s End.

Barmaid nods and trots off, Mizuka close behind.

How did I involve myself with such gorgeous girls? Not that their personalities are worth the same degree of admiration. However, any suffering they may cause is better than another second ploughing potatoes. After a few stretches, I follow, the afternoon sun beaming at our backs.

***

Hiding her face lest her boss or coworkers spot her, Barmaid leads us west of the tavern. I hope she won’t lose her job for skipping a day. Claiming a duo of mentally unsound patrons kidnapped her wouldn’t be far from the truth.

Countless villagers greet Barmaid, several stopping to chat. Her sunny smile never fades as she asks about the other person’s day or how they’re doing, never talking about herself. She reminds me of one of my sisters, the middle child. Well aware she won’t receive special treatment like the younger kids or respect like the older, she kowtows to and placates the other siblings to get her way.

A veritable army of men of every ilk forms and follows us…well, Barmaid. Their bloodshot staring at never having seen a girl in that glorious uniform outside the tavern soon turns into their trailing behind, stealing glances with no serious attempts at pretending not to care. Their murderous glares bore holes in my back as I edge closer to the girls. By the time we arrive wherever Barmaid was leading us, they scatter, but I keep peeking over my shoulder.

“Someone who might help us lives here.” Barmaid motions toward the building before us.

A house. The last one on the west end of Gamaloth, near the inn. Small, one story high, similar to the others, but made of a different wood—reddish-brown with narrow streaks of black. Well-trimmed shrubs and colorful flowers dot the front yard. Were the second-eldest of my sisters here, she could tell me the names of each one…

Barmaid bounces up the steps to the front door. A minute after she knocks, the door creaks open, and an old man appears in the doorway, smiling once he recognizes his visitor.

“He says we can come in.”

We both greet the man with ‘good afternoon’ and a bow. Returning our greeting, he introduces himself as Harlan.

He is short and stout, deep wrinkles creasing his pale face. Clad in a beige, long-sleeved sweater and olive, baggy pants, we seem to have interrupted his afternoon nap. His bald head reflects the falling sun as his bushy, curled mustache shifts in the breeze. Ushering us inside, he asks what brings us to his home. At a loss, we look to Barmaid.

“Mister Harlan has tons of books. He’s the most knowledgeable person in all Gamaloth.” She pats his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re always exaggerating.” Harlan tugs his mustache. “I don’t know everything but have a knack for pointing people in the right direction. How can I help?”

“I wish to learn more about that sword in the stone.” Mizuka’s voice rings brighter as she assumes an air of deference.

“The sword…yes, the young lady asked me about it before, but little information exists, I’m afraid. Not even a pair of traveling scholars from the capital had ever seen or heard anything about it.”

“I see, then…Gamaloth. What can you tell me about both it and the surrounding area?”

“What can’t I?” He grins. “One of my father’s pastimes was recording Halivaara’s history. Thus, lucky for you, I happen to have several books on the subject. Care to have a look?”

“If we may. Do any of those books mention a lake south of Gamaloth?”

“How far south?” He squints beady, gray eyes.

“About an hour’s walk from here. Outside a small farming village,” I say. Are the people of Gamaloth even aware our village exists?

“Ah, yes. The village is a part of Gamaloth but claimed its own name. A rather cute one, I believe.”

“…Right. A small lake lies inside a forest east of that village. Sound familiar?”

“Hmm…Nope—not in the slightest. However, I’m sure my father knew of it. If any relevant information exists, you’ll find it in his books. My library is through here.” Grinning, he opens an ornate door to our left.

Inside lies a deceptively extensive library, given the house’s small exterior. Bookcases packed to maximum capacity blanket the walls. Books piled in stacks of at least thirty high occupy the surrounding floor. An oak table, its top obscured by more books, occupies the center, four chairs surrounding it. One could spend a few years here reading and hardly scratch the surface.

“Amazing,” I say, without meaning to, “how long have you been collecting?”

“Since before I was born. My grandfather started this collection with his own writings, and it’s been growing ever since.” A pinch of pride hides in his soft voice.

“Have you read them all?”

“No, no,” he laughs, “I used to read through each one I purchased, but after a while, I became more interested in collecting than reading.”

“An impressive collection indeed. One much too large for us to navigate. Can you please point us to your father’s books?” Mizuka’s eye twitches, her politeness and desire for haste at war.

“Certainly.” He steps toward a bookcase in the back-left corner. “This set of six on the second shelf, Records Concerning Halivaara. While most of the text covers the southern lands, a few chapters are dedicated to Dragonwall and its neighboring villages.”

“Thank you, we will try to hurry.” Mizuka takes the first volume, brushing her hand across its dusty cover.

“Please, take your time. Rather, I’d like to thank you. Rarely do others wish to peruse my collection, much less one of my family’s pieces.” With a wide smile, Harlan returns to the door. “I’ll be in the room across from this one should you need any help.” All three of us thank him, and he leaves, easing the door shut.

“You two take the other volumes and tell me if you find anything about the sword or the lake, understand?” Barks Mizuka, her kindness drained dry.

“Which one should I take?” Barmaid runs a finger down the spine of a book.

“These two.” She pulls the rest from the shelf. “You take the last two, Leo.”

“Sure, but don’t expect me to comprehend them.”

“What? On top of your other deficiencies, don’t tell me you’re illiterate.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m nothing more than a farmhand. My father claimed learning to read and write was pointless for someone in my profession.”

“Worry not—I remember. I simply cannot believe literacy hasn’t spread to everyone under the sun since I was last awake…Can you seriously not read any of it?”

“A little, bu—”

“Good enough. You can ask the girl for help. Rather…you do know how to read, don’t you?” She faces Barmaid with a grimace.

“Not one bit,” she replies, beaming.

“Then don’t act like you can.” Mizuka threatens her with a book. Excitement fills Barmaid’s eager eyes but fades as Mizuka recedes. “Wait…why don’t you?”

“Well…I know enough to write down orders at work, but no one taught me anything beyond that, so…”

“Huh? Seeing as your existence is similar to mine given your manifesting in human form, you should possess the same knowledge base as me…Wait, could it be? Is this a side effect of…” She mumbles, eyebrows furrowed. “No matter, I’ll help the both of you. Let’s finish up before we run out of daylight.” She sits at the table and cracks the first volume open to the center.

We servants shrug and take our seats as well, Barmaid dragging her chair close to Mizuka’s. I’ve never seen anyone grow attached to someone who was a mere stranger a couple of hours ago so quickly. Maybe she inherently understands her connection to Mizuka. That or Mizuka and her sharp tongue inadvertently turned Barmaid into a pet.

I scan the fifth volume’s several hundred pages. Despite appearing to be printed text, the entire book is handwritten. This volume covers the villages west of Gamaloth, detailing their histories, economies, governments, and key persons. Dry reading for anyone not involved with the topic. The sixth volume contains similar information regarding the villages to the east. Not expecting to find anything worthwhile, I do my best to skim them, every tenth sentence beyond my reading ability.

Barmaid asks incessant questions about what one word means or how to read another. Not wanting Mizuka any angrier, I offer to help. Barmaid slams her chair against mine and leans close, her honeysuckle and strawberry scent leaving me dizzy.

To keep them from straying toward that which will double my pulse, I glue my eyes to the books. Barmaid’s simple questions remind me of the times I taught my brothers how to read. Fearing father’s disapproval, we stayed up long past bedtime and read by candlelight.

Unlike her body, Barmaid’s mind is that of a child’s. She lost her memory, after all. Expecting her to have amassed a vast intellect in three years as a barmaid is unreasonable at best.

Why does Mizuka, who should be in the same state, possess not only literacy but also a perfect grasp of Seiren’s language? Barmaid speaks it equally well but might’ve learned via work. I understand Mizuka is a supernatural being, but she hasn’t explained much beyond what she needed to convince me to make a contract with her. That’s it. I’m going to ask. I’m tired of floundering in the dark. Well, after she’s done reading…

“Find anything?” An hour later, Mizuka sighs and closes the second of her volumes.

“Nothing. None of ours mention the sword, lake, or Gamaloth.”

“I suspected as much. The first covers Gamaloth and your village but makes no reference to the lake. How long has it been there?”

“As long as I can remember. I used to play in the clearing as a kid.”

“And these books make no mention of it? Impossible. Small it may be, but it is a landmark worth recording. These books note several lakes all across Halivaara. There’s no reason to omit your village’s.”

“Maybe Harlan’s father omitted it for some reason.” Barmaid tilts her head.

“Perhaps, but that is a mystery we cannot solve without first learning about said lake.”

“Of which—there is no information.” I throw up my hands, annoyed by all these dead ends. “Nothing we can do about it. What now?”

“We came here to figure that out, servant boy.”

“It was just a question. I can’t help. You haven’t told me a thing.”

“Meaning?” She glares, flares her nostrils.

“If I knew more about your circumstances, maybe I could come up with something. You keep going on about your fragments, this era and that era, mumbling nonsense to yourself. I don’t understand any of it.”

“As I’ve said more than once—that blasted warlock divided my power into fragments, and I need to collect them. What more do you need to know?”

“What that means, who you are, how your power was split, how long you’ve been alive, why you can speak my language—”

“Quiet. One question at a time. And don’t you know better than to ask a lady her age?”

“You’re at least older than this kingdom. Does it matter at that point?”

“Watch it. Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I’m your servant? How am I supposed to serve you if I know nothing about you?” I stand tall, a rare fire in my voice.

“…Fine. You’ve made your point. Give me a moment to compose myself.” She masks her face with both hands. “Just remembering the event that reduced me to this pitiful state brings me great shame. I would’ve told you earlier but have had trouble collecting my thoughts. Go on, ask your questions again. One by one.”

“Then first, who…or what are you?”

“You’re smarter than I thought to ask ‘what’ I am.” She smirks, presses her fingertips together. “But before I can answer, you must know that despite my apparent knowledge, I am in a similar state to this fragment.” She nods at Barmaid. “My…well, my memories are gone. Not all—not the most important ones—but most.”

Spare the two names she used upon our meeting, The Undying Blade and Excalibur, Mizuka cannot even guess who or what she is. She has another, more substantial title, but cannot remember it. Spare her memories of being attacked and divided, her imprisonment at the lake, and various details about previous eras, those regarding her fragments are all missing.

“…We’ve been flying blind since we left my village?”

“And? I already found one fragment. I’d say we’re doing well.”

“Uh-huh…Wait, if you have no memories of Seiren, how can you speak my language? The current language only came into widespread usage around a century ago.”

“Easy.” She raises a finger.

Mizuka’s existence is one that adjusts to whichever era she wakes up in. ‘Waking up’ meaning she is roused from a suspended state, as she was, albeit against her will, by the wizard. The last time was about five-hundred years ago.

This ‘adjustment’ grants her the inherent ability to comprehend all languages, written or spoken. She also possesses a deep understanding of human nature. Meaning, she knows how to treat others in a way most appealing to each individual. Not that she makes use of such knowledge when interacting with me.

“As for my speech, I am speaking a different language. You merely perceive it in your mother tongue.”

“You haven’t been speaking my language?”

“Not at all. While my knowledge can be altered, my tongue and vocal cords cannot without actual training. Thus, every time I speak, I am weaving a, let’s say, magic spell that makes my words manifest in your language. If you’d pay more attention to details, you’d have long since realized the words you hear me speak do not match the movement of my lips.”

“Oh.” My eyes tend to land elsewhere. “So, you can talk to anyone and they’ll understand you?”

“Good to see you’re quick on the uptake. Any other questions?” She picks at her nails.

“Just one more. This warlock, how and why did he attack you?”

“Again, my being far more powerful than himself did not appeal to him, so he divided my power.”

“Yes, but how did he if you were stronger?”

“Must I tell you?” She shrinks.

“No, but I’d like to know. Wouldn’t you, Barmaid?”

“Yes! I mean…only if Master wants to tell.”

Mizuka scratches her cheek. “Fine. He, the warlock, I’ll call him, as he didn’t have the courtesy to name himself, caught me…off guard.”

Three years ago, Mizuka awoke. Not in the way to which she’s accustomed, but to a colossal wave of fire. From across the room of her ancient chamber of white marble stood a man dressed in dark robes the hue of deep ocean, his face obscured by a pale, lacquer mask; narrow slits for eyes and lacking a mouth. In one hand: a staff. The other: an obsidian orb with snaking wisps of purple surging within. With both, he was casting spells. Thousands of fireballs rained on Mizuka as she slept, but not one broke through the thousands of warding spells placed on her before she went to sleep.

Mizuka rose, faced her insignificant threat, and asked him what he wanted. The man spoke only these words: ‘You and I possess the same power. Only one can be allowed to exist. I must destroy you’. Falling silent, he launched another assault. Spears of ice, murky black orbs, bolts of lightning, all manner of top-level offensive spells blanketed Mizuka, who yawned, wondering when he would finish. Her barriers were being broken, but she could put them back up anytime she wanted. What this warlock hoped to accomplish with his thoughtless onslaught—she was too drowsy to care.

However, because Mizuka was not fully awake, thought little of her assailant, and wished to sleep for another hundred years or so, she failed to realize the wizard’s true goal.

While which spell he used remains a mystery, she’s positive he could only cast it by first filling the chamber with massive amounts of magical energy. Something he accomplished via his countless spells and the shattered remnants of Mizuka’s broken barriers.

The warlock’s catalyst glowed as a massive orb of eldritch silver ballooned from its tip and flew at Mizuka. Unperturbed, she rolled over and let it engulf her.

Rather than breaking through more of her barriers as she expected, Mizuka found herself inside a smaller version of the orb and suspended high in the air.

She demanded the warlock tell her what he did, but he made no answer. She cast every spell in her vast mental library to free herself, but they all proved ineffective. The wizard approached, mumbled under his breath for several minutes, and placed his hand on the orb. Black miasma filled it and rendered Mizuka unconscious.

She awoke near the lake, found her power reduced to near nothing, most of her memories missing, and soon discovered she couldn’t leave. Having plenty of time to think, she eventually concluded the warlock had split her power into fragments, and her sole means of escaping the lake was to borrow someone else’s magical energy.

“And, after three long, insufferable, miserable years—you came along, servant boy.” She finishes her story, nose twitching in agitation.

“Thanks…I think I understand, but what’s that about needing someone’s magical energy? I’m pretty sure I don’t have any,” I say, a thousand more questions spinning through my mind.

“You do. Everyone does. But if what you say is true and monsters and magic are no longer prevalent in this era, your being unaware of its presence is expected. All humans possess the potential to use magic, but only if taught how. Those who received proper training were called mages. In the past, many people could use magic, but there was a growing contempt for mages the last time I was awake.”

“Did people just forget about it?”

“Perhaps, but that shouldn’t be possible. I have to assume the mages were stamped out and any records of their teachings destroyed for whatever reason. But that is of little importance. All you need to know is by forming a contract with me, we now share our myra with one another.”

I parrot the unfamiliar word.

“Magical energy. It was once called myra. Your pool is so negligible it might as well not exist, while mine is in a greatly reduced state. The most I can manage is my language spell and the manifestation of my clothes.” She shakes the ribbons on her wrists.

“Your clothes are made of magic?!”

“Y-Yes. Something the matter?”

“Well, just…what would happen if you ran out of magi—myra?”

“They would disap—Leo! What is going on in that idiotic, worthless brain of yours?!” Again, she responds with violence, fist shaking.

“Master, if you must hit someone, please use me.” Barmaid positions herself in front of me, a goofy smile on her lips.

“I’m not going to hit anyone.” She stretches her arms high, groans. “I’ve spoken far more than I intended. If you’ve any more questions, they can wait until after we’ve reclaimed the sword.” She stands and adjusts her clothes, tugging at each piece as if to affirm their existence.

“Wait, wait, one more. Just one more.”

“You said that before…out with it.”

“Into how many fragments was your power split?”

She smiles. One of amusement, of despair—the half-dead smile of a mighty creature that has lost its fangs but still clings to its pride.

“I don’t know. Into two, three, perhaps a thousand. Only reclaiming every single one will reveal the answer. Alas, we must leave such matters for later. The master of this library has returned.” She turns to the door, cups her hands around her mouth. “You may enter. We’re finished.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Harlan enters the room, poking at his mustache. “Find what you were looking for?”

Mizuka shakes her head. “Not in these volumes.”

Understanding forms on his sullen face. “I expected as much. I’ve read through my father’s books a few times and don’t recall any lakes south of Gamaloth. I thought you might discover what I perhaps glossed over, but it seems not.” He steps closer, eyes bright. “That said, I remembered something that might help. Come on outside.”

We return to his front porch. Each of us takes several deep breaths to expel the stench of old, musty paper and stale air of his library.

Harlan points east. “At the opposite end of Gamaloth lives an old woman by the name of Marigold. Do you know her?” He faces Barmaid.

“If she’s never been to the tavern, then probably not.”

“Well, she isn’t the type to eat there…Anyway, she has a book. One she would never sell me regardless of how much coin I offered. But she let me skim through it years ago. It mentioned a pair of swords—one not unlike the sword in the stone. Forgive me for failing to remember it when you first asked about the sword.” He lowers his head to Barmaid.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. That must be what we’re searching for!” She hugs the old man tight. His body goes rigid as his pale cheeks shift crimson. Lucky.

“Let’s hope so.” Mizuka places one foot down the steps. “Your help was greatly appreciated. If we can do anything to compensate you for your time, please let us know. For now, we must be on our way.”

“O-Of course. But there’s no need for that. Having someone take an interest in my books is enough for me. Should you wish to browse through them again, I’d be happy to oblige.” Barmaid releases him, and he retreats, wiping sweat off his brow. “Take care.” With a slight bow, Harlan disappears behind his door.

“Off we go, then. Lead the way, Barmaid.”

“Yes, Master…A little encouragement would be nice.” She mumbles just loud enough for Mizuka to hear.

“I’ll be more inclined to do so once you’ve actually done something useful. Hurry up.” Mizuka snarls, rolling her eyes.

“That’s more like it…” Barmaid performs her weird squirming movement before skipping eastward.