Chapter 4: Encounter at the Workshop

Two weeks had passed since the fiend raid. The townsfolk have started rebuilding efforts. Casualties were reported to be in the hundreds, majority of livestocks were killed, however the silver lining was the crops were luckily spared. We would not be starved for the coming winter. The town can only keep themselves occupied to set the tragedies off their mind.

“Hainé, be a darling and help me in the kitchen,” Marty called to me, she was slicing up salmon for lunch. I followed her instructions, cutting through onions, carrots, potatoes, and lettuces. It looked like we’ll have fish stew for the day.

“Mommy, my eye stings,” Charles complained, he was next to me admiring the culinary work of Marty.

“I told you to go play, I have Hainé helping out today,” Marty said as she washed her hand of the grease and oil from the salmon.

“But Hainé was supposed to play with me, you stole her from me,” Charles pouted, I can only smile wryly as I brought the diced vegetable to the boiling pot.

I’ve become accustomed to living with Marty and Charles. I was nervous at first staying over the first night, but Charles' enthusiastic cheerfulness made me forget all about my anxiety. It had been fun sharing the daily chores with them. Made all the bad memories of that night seem so far distant.

“Well go wash your hands, we’ll have lunch soon and bring some of these stew to the knights as a morale boost for the restoration effort,” Marty explained, looking beyond the window at the people carrying lumber. Noise of construction and people yelling can be heard from the small house I was in.

I sat at the dining table, putting my hand together to pray towards the foods I had helped serve. A small ritual my father had taught me to always do before eating, it was to thank the goddess of this realm.

“Randolf sure raised you well,” Marty smiled with her hand brushing at Charles' hair as he ate.

“I— it’s a habit,” I immediately scooped a spoonful of soup into my mouth. I made a little reaction at the sudden heat, the taste of savory potatoes coated my tongue and slight saltiness from the fish danced around my mouth. The aroma of onion masked the fishiness, the sweetened carrot offset the salt. It tasted amazing, Marty was well versed with her cooking, my palate could only scream at the greatness that was happening in my mouth. Marty's expression beamed, satisfied at the blissful reaction to her cooking.

My eyes wandered a bit, then rested on the two metal blades near the grandfather clock in the center of the room. My eyes stopped on the broken sword, Marty noticed my gaze, her expression changed to a solemn look.

“We’ll find him, darling,” Marty paused, reaching over and brushing my silver hair.

I could feel the emotions of that night coming up under my eyes, Marty gently rubbed my back and made sure I knew she was there next to me. I had grown to rely on her, I thought to myself so this was what it felt like to have a mother. It felt warm and safe in my chest. My eyes then look at the silver unbroken blade placed next to my father’s. I recalled the evening Marty had taken me to her house, she had tucked Charles in upstairs, then she sat me down by a fireplace.

“You mustn’t let anyone know of this,” Marty said with a stern look on her face. I was confused as to what I had done. I was interrogated like a child that did something wrong.

“But why? What is this sword, why did it tell me its name was Durandal, why did it deflect your hand like that,” I paused my million questions for a moment, recalling the events of the tower and the demon named Falcie. It was the perilous situation I had been in, I hung by the words it had said as I was near death. I locked my blue eyes with Marty’s hazel eyes, and asked a question she seemed to have the knowledge Falcie had.

“What is an Armiger?”

Marty brows furrowed, the room fell silent, I could hear the cricket singing in the night, the crackling of woods in the fireplace, and the slow hum of the wind shaking the house.

“An Armiger…” Marty stopped to take out a book, it looked like the fairy tale I had read to Charles but it was more worn out.

“Are those who bear the Gods’ instruments,” Marty lay out a page in the fairy tale, a poem was then present before me, I traced the faded ink in my mind.

In beginning, a world was as one

Of birth, two life was labored

At dawn, Ymir count to three

Upon noon, Arias stood up from four

Five of lights they ground into dusk

At six, they bear more sprouts

Rhode then forged seven armigers

Midnight, Eris formed the eight skies

In void, Invi sculpted nine realms

Every dream, Seles brought ten winters

That spring, Vale seeded eleven harvests

After twelve moons, Levin sundered the forebears

Thirteen brands in hand, Sen witnessed the finale of divinity.

My finger nested on the word armiger after tracing the stanzas on the page. I didn’t understand most of the poem, but that word sings in my mind after numerous mentions of it.

“They are the ones who bear the brands,” she continued. I looked at the blade propped up next to the fireplace, it was such a strange sight to see it quiet compared to the glow emanated from it from battles prior.

“This sword is one of the brands,” Marty took my hand, she examined it as if to see if there were any injuries.

“Nothing, you haven’t fully awakened yet,” Marty said,letting out a sigh of relief.

“Awakened? Marty please stop with the cryptic riddles,” I complained, the more she dodges the question the more frustrated I was getting.

“Sorry, it’s complicated, I don’t know any more than you do, darling, other than an Armiger were champions chosen by the divines above,” Marty stopped, flipping to the next page of the book, then pointing at a shadow silhouette with swords in hand pointing at a sun.

“As for what champions, in our native tongue, they are heroes,” Marty explained.

“Heroes?!” I shrieked, my eyes beamed with excitement, I jumped from my seating posture almost stumbling over. Marty saw my enthusiasm smile wryly before pulling me back down.

“Hainé, the church and the imperial family must not find out,” Marty pulled me close.

“Your father would not want you to be a child soldier for this realm, you are far too young for that responsibility,” she admitted, finally revealing the true reason why she kept dodging the subject I wanted to know.

“Promise me, that sword will remain in this house, never will it leave here, the events of what happened that night stay between us, okay?” Marty shot me a worried look.

“I promise,” I nodded in response.

I looked at the empty bowl, licking my lip at any residue of the fish stew I just had, recalling the flavor as it faded from my mouth. Marty words played on repeat in my mind, I understood her concerns.

“I’m heading into town, will you watch the house while I’m away, Hainé,” the mother requested. She took my plates and Charles’ to the sink for washing before dusting her apron off of any food particles.

“Yes, Miss Marty, is Charles going with you,” I asked as I nudged at the eight years old boy. Charles read my hints, immediately beamed at Marty with his puppy dog eyes. The mother sighed in exasperation, and reluctantly took her son by the hand out of the door.

As I watched them leave, I thought of my plans for the rest of the day. It was still noon after lunch, normally I’d be out hunting with my father and he would be teaching me sword plays. It had been a while since I was left alone with my own thoughts like this. I picked up the book where the Armiger was mentioned and sat by the window, feeling the warm breeze blowing through my hair. I brushed my hand across the pages, guiding through the ancient texts with my fingertips. The drawing shadows showing a figure holding a sword to the sun fascinates me. I dreamed of meeting the hero someday. Randolf had told me stories of heroes in many realms of Yselvrias, every night there would be one to tell. One who was rumored to be an angel in disguise thwarted a demon lord’s plans and commanded the heavens to win the war in Arias. Another unorthodox hero was one of performing type, who toured the realms and brought theater plays to the towns where the fiends had pillaged. In hoping of raising spirit, as well as restoring smiles of the people where hope would be all be lost. Another hero was mentioned briefly by my father, but the story of this hero was limited by many. It was only said he was summoned to this world, beyond that, my father mentioned there wasn’t much to tell. An adoration for heroes was always a thing I had since I was a little girl. I have always been a crybaby, over reliant on my father, as well as stubborn who thinks she can do everything on her own only to just cry about it when I couldn’t do it. Father had said I took after my mother, I had never met her, but I wonder what she was like had she been around. Would she be like Marty who was so kind to take in a stranger’s child even though we met only one evening. Would she make me feel safe just like father would just being near him. Would she be heroic like the champions that saved the many realms. Those questions swirled in my mind as I rested my hand on the rough leather cover of the book.

The afternoon sun peered through the window, it shone on a metal placed on the table in the kitchen, glaring in my direction. It was Marty’s dagger, the same one that she had used in subjugating the orcs. Next to it was a note, it was written by Marty, her penmanship was beautifully shown on the piece of paper. It made me wonder what sort of instructions she went through in her younger years, Marty did not look too old from the way she carried herself. I picked up the note, and read the legible texts.

Repair, stops by Garland Workshop

I pulled the dagger from its sheathe, and noticed the edges had been terribly chipped. It must’ve worn its usage after she defeated the goblin scouts that had chased after me. She left it behind behind, she must have forgotten it after I pushed Charles to go with her. Feeling guilty, I lift the blade with my two hands. It was surprisingly heavy, to think she wielded it with one hand fighting the orc. Rather than the heroes, Marty also had so many mysteries surrounding her.

I swallowed, recalling Marty words to watch the house. I recalled where Garland Workshop was, I had walked by it several times while in town with Marty while helping around with the restoration efforts. The workshop was not far from Marty's residence, so I could go deliver it and be back at the house in no time flat. Convinced myself of that notion, I swung the sheath over my shoulder, and began my march towards the front door. I looked back in the home, my eyes landing on the decorated silver blade by the fireplace. It was probably fine to leave it there, since Marty's words were to not reveal I was in possession of the blade. I turned away, walking out of the door, locking it with the spare key Marty had given me, and route myself towards Garland Workshop.

Albus, a town located in the southern part of Eristella, a rural area with many farms, trades, and home to the biggest wineries in the entire realms. It was attacked by the fiends many weeks back due to an invasion by the border, where the knights had failed to halt its advance and an army led by the demon named Falcie had slipped through and attacked this very town in search of something. Due to the nature of the wine trade, despite the fiend raid, the town was not in danger economically. They were on track to resume business once restoration efforts had been done.

I walked through Albus, it was bustling with people, hammers and construction filled the air, horses galloping with carts of lumber behind. Merchants yell for any possible buyers to show their wares as they had set up shop alongside the road. It was busy, almost as if there had been no sign of the fiend raid that happened weeks prior.

I rarely had ever walked in town even when my father was around, but this was the most I have seen the district this active. I came to an intersection, I made a right into an alley where I had recalled the workshop I had walked by days before. I came upon a factory-like building, I heard metals clanking from the inside. Garland Workshop was known for metal works, they are recognized for the edelweiss-hammer symbol engraved on all their wares. I heard from Marty they do handy work ranging from fixing infrastructure that supports the city to simple repair work on weapons. I mustered all the courage in my little body, and pushed the metal door.

“Excuse me,” I said softly, scanning the shop of its ware. Weapons all hung up for the wall for display all strewn around the shop: sword, spear, axe, shield, armor, anything you can name you would use for battle was on sight. Inside near the counter where the shopkeeper would be, stood a man with a highly decorated white robe. He had a pair of glasses resting on his nose, the man complexion was very gentle, he looked like in his late thirties perhaps. Next to him were two armored men, dressed from head to toe in gray metals, they were the very same knights I saw battling on the night of the raid.

“I see,” the spectacle man sighed.

“Is there no way to repair this for the coming ceremony,” he added, in his hand was a staff filled with blue gemstones, noticeable the top part has broken off in three distinct pieces.

“Not right away, your grace, we are flooded with work after the raid, the ceremony the least of our concerns,” the shopkeeper said, the tan man was well built, he had sideburns that made him look a bit scary, and his gruff voice filled the room.

“Your grace, I think you come back–” one of the knights spoke, he was cut off by the spectacled man.

“Fine, I’ll come back this evening to try again, I fully expect you to wrap up some of your queues by then and make room for mine,” the white robbed man bargained cynically.

Both the shopkeeper and the knights accompanying the man shook their heads in disbeliefs in unison. I could only stand next to the door awkwardly to witness the strange event.

“Oh? You have another customer after me, chop chop, business rolling, don’t forget our arrangements later,” the spectacled man claps his hand rhythmically, then marches along towards the exit. As he approached the door, he glanced at me, his golden iris was full of mystery, he must be someone of importance. He gave a gentle smile before waving his hand as he made his exit with the entourage of knights following behind.

“Sorry that you have to see that, what can I do for you, little one,” the shopkeeper asked.

Snapping myself of being entranced by the spectacled man, I galloped towards the shopkeeper with the dagger sheath in my arms.

“Umm… H-has Miss Marty stopped by,” I stuttered, troubled finding words to speak against the scary looking man.

“Marty? Oh, you mean Martha, no she has not swung by,” his gaze fixed on the dagger in my arms, he immediately figured out the reason I came here.

“Let me see that, little girl,” he requested, I nodded and anxiously handed him the dagger.

He unsheathed it to reveal the metallic blade, made a couple of faces as he analyzed it before settling it on the counter.

“I’ll get it fixed, so leave it here with me, what’re you going to do then, little one,” the shopkeeper asked. At the unexpected question, I realized my only goal was to stop by the workshop I had not planned anything else after.

“Oh I, umm, may I go back home?” I panicked, and realized I just requested a stranger's permission to go home. The shopkeeper was stunned, then burst into a fit of laughter. I felt blood rushing to my face, then looked down at the tiled floor averting my eyes.

“Sorry sorry, been a stressful afternoon, I needed that,” he paused, he reached for a jar on the counter, then handed me a wrapped piece of candy.

“My name is Alfred Garland, what’s yours, little one,” Alfred introduced himself.

I look up from the ground, and reach for the sweet in his hand.

“Hainé,” I spoke softly, popping the candy in my mouth.

“Little Hainé, so what are you to Martha? You aren’t the little Charles that always glued to her,” the shopkeeper asked, I thought for a second before answering.

“I’m in care of her,” I replied

“I see, so you aren’t her child, I would be scared out of my wits if she popped out one as big as you,” Alfred joked. I look past Alfred up at the wall, pictures of family members and two head portraits lined up side by side. The burly man noticed my gaze, and pointed with his thumb.

“They’re my father and grands, you noticed my last name with the shop, it’s a family business,” Alfred explained, looking proudly at the trades his family runs.

“That’s amazing, Mister Garland, are you the only blacksmith in this town,” I asked with my mouthful of sweets.

“Just Alfred is fine, and yes, I managed this shop with my wife and kids, we’ve come from a long line of family blacksmith,” he paused to look at a photo of his family, “my sons are fighting at the front line, the least I can do as their old man is to support from the rear.”

This world was constantly on the attack by the fiends, it made me wonder if the fighting will ever end. I held onto the helm of my gown, then in the next moment, a sound of a bell rang aloud outside the workshop.

“Nine hells, they’re here again,” Alfred said forebodingly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he walked over to the window. I didn’t need to check outside the shop to see what the commotion was. Marty had told me the towns had implemented a system if the town needed evacuation, the bell was to be sounded. The bell ringing now can only mean one thing, the fiends were attacking.