2.5 Please Keep All Mortal Weapons Sheathed Until We Arrive to Our Destination

“I like Luke," said Cérise's father. "Ever since he started showing up, we've been eating like royalty."

Clank, clank, clank, went the hammer. Cérise used it to pretend that he couldn't hear his father over the forge.

"His parents are nice, too. A bit... strange, but that could be cultural differences."

They weren't. Luke had explicitly told him that they'd left Shiou due to societal rejection, which was, by itself, insane. Surely, 'Luke' wasn't exactly the kind of name he'd expect from that place, but to be ostracized as a result? Apparently his parents had been all but exiled for selling bread from different regions, too, but then why leave a shithole for another shithole? This town had a thousand inhabitants at best. Cérise could've explained this, but he didn't feel like talking, so he shrugged instead.

Used to this, his father moved on. "That hammer seems a bit too large for what you're trying to do."

"It's not."

"For a bread knife? It certainly is."

"It's not." Great, now Cérise had to specify. "Not a bread knife. Luke wanted a sword, but he's too clumsy to use one. We'll start with this."

The look on his father's face said all: you'll teach someone sword techniques with a knife?

"...fine, I just hate the idea of non-lethal swords. They make no sense. They're just a metal stick. And I refuse to add a spell to them. Knives are fine."

"The sword you carry around is non-lethal," said his father.

"Well, yes. But I didn't make it."

"The ones you make literally cut air."

"Swords are meant to be sharp."

"Swords are meant to kill, son. There's no merit in a blade that'd slash air but break in combat. Besides, do you want to forge weapons that'll end people's lives, or something to be used for sports and protection? Times have changed. We have value now, all of us."

"I know," mumbled Cérise, and he did. He just felt like forging increasingly sharper swords. Blacksmith resources were limited, of course, but that's why he crafted dumb weapons for dumb people to buy, so he'd get his own money for useless experiments. The only other person who cared about them was Luke, but Cérise knew better than to give him anything sharper than a spoon.

"I know you do. Just musing to myself."

"You're saying this because I've been adventuring with Luke lately," said Cérise. "Don't worry, it's all bullshit. He joins random people and then they explore caves and stuff."

"He?"

"Luke. I mean, I go with them, too, but I'm not part of... you know. And before you say anything, I don't want to. They're stupid and annoying. It constantly feels like I'm their babysitter. They can't fight. I even tried to train them once, but they couldn't dodge the man-eating plants."

"The w—"

"Nobody died. Calm down."

"So that's why Clair's parents wanted to press charges."

It was also why Clair and Luke had broken up. Luke wasn't mad, though. He'd found it funny. "Anyway, he'll be a baker someday. I'll be a blacksmith. Knowing how to fight is useless."

His father unsubtly glanced at the growing stash of ultra-thin, diamond-coated swords.

"Shut up."

***

Cérise didn't like waking up. His dreams were usually nice. That, and he still had a hangover. That, and it was scorching. From what little he remembered back when they'd been at the traveling agency, this driver in particular didn't know any magic—bizarre in this day and age—and thus couldn't cast a cooling spell on her carriage. No one with common sense would've hired her, and so, of course, Akiha and his minions had. She'd probably given them a discount.

The quartet of idiots paged through their spell handbooks, but with the absence of water, to form a cooling bubble around the carriage was a futile endeavor. Apparently, they'd already used the water from the portable baths.

"Travelers, next, time, let's..." Akiha trailed off, fanning himself with the handbook. "...use the train."

"No," said Two-Rabbit.

"Trains are for..." Mish fanned herself with her hands. She lay on the floor. "...salarymen."

Even with a hangover, Cérise seemed to be doing better than the quartet. The steppes he came from were warmer during this time of the year. It also helped that his clothes made sense for the weather. Sure, cotton wasn't the easiest to obtain, having to capture flying sheep to shear them, but it was cheaper in the long run than running portable cooling spells. It was one thing to use them inside city ground (regardless of the bill) where resources were shared, but out in the desert...

...well, at least that confirmed that none of them had any real experience. This should work as a wake-up call. "I found something to create gust winds," Snail mumbled, "But..."

Akiha shook his head. "We'll bury ourselves in sand if we do that."

"...yeah, that's what I was... sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie," Mish cooed. She seemed to be doing the worst. As usual. While Akiha had taken off his vest and remained only with a half-opened button-down, she refused to take off the bandana covering her ears, or her cape, or even lift her ankle-length skirt a little bit. No wonder people stared at her. She was insane and a pest.

Two-Rabbit said, "Steam trains are causing an energy crisis."

Akiha rolled his hair into a white ball on top of his head. Some of it framed his face anyway. "Speaking of which, how do those work here? I haven't seen any railways and the floor isn't the most stable."

"Underground."

"Underground?"

"Underground. Tunnels," was Two-Rabbit's explanation.

"Ah. I see. So the steam and exhaust are therefore recycled. While it's practical, it's a shame passengers don't get to sightsee. Where I'm from, instead of sand, there's snow, but that doesn't..." Akiha's attempt at small talk ended there. Fanning himself with his handbook wasn't enough. "How far away is the next town? I thought you said we'd arrive by dawn."

The driver replied, "When I said dawn, I meant tomorrow's dawn. I suppose I should've specified. My bad. I'll give you a bigger discount next time."

Cérise couldn't help it. "If we'd taken the train, we'd be there already."

"You shut up," Mish snapped, which was funny. "You're the reason why we're behind on the schedule."

"What schedule?"

"You'd know if you didn't hide like a coward every time we have group me—did you just scoff?"

He had. Snail slapped the back of Cérise's head and mouthed, 'Behave', which would've earned him a beating if he'd done it to his legal guardians, but he digressed.

Akiha groaned. "Guys—travelers. Please."

Two-Rabbit stopped fanning himself and throwing fur everywhere for a moment. "Did anyone else feel a bump?"

"But this is a desert. These are dunes. That is impossible."

"Actually..." Two-Rabbit trailed off. Wasn't worth the effort. With his hands holding his head, elbows on his knees, Akiha didn't seem to be listening anyway.

The next time, Cérise felt it, too. But how? They were surrounded by dunes, and dunes only, unless...

A third bump.

Mish scrambled up. "Bandits?"

"There's no way," said the driver. "They can only plunder us three times a month. I put up the sign saying I fulfilled the quota alre... oh. Nevermind. I forgot."

"Great," said Akiha.

"Hmm? If you say so."

"What else is left? A sandstorm? Getting struck by lightning? Why is this happening? Am I cursed?"

As Akiha fell into despair, Cérise inched closer to the entrance of the wagon. At the distance lay the faintest specks of civilization... which did not line up at all with what the driver had said. If he squinted enough, it looked like... an oasis? Yurts? "Bandits," he confirmed.

"Nah nah," said the fake driver.

Mish was useless. Two-Rabbit hardly seemed like a fighter. Akiha was either a mage or a fraud based on the insignia sewn onto his vest, but... best not to count on him. And Snail? While she'd probably help more than everyone else combined, it wasn't saying much. "How much do you want?" Cérise asked the driver.

"Hmm? I don't know what you're talking about." He wasn't in the mood for this, so Cérise took out a knife. Unfazed, the driver said, "Please keep all mortal weapons sheathed until we arrive to our destination."

"You mean the bandit camp?"

"The... the bandit..." Akiha sighed.

Mish also took out a knife. She mimicked Cérise, aiming it at the not driver. "If you value your life," she threatened. "You'll take us to our actual destination."

"If you value your lives," replied the driver, "You'll sheath your mortal weapons before we arrive to the camp. They won't hurt you unless you try to fight."

The palm trees at the oasis were pink.

In the end, they'd never really left Khon-Pak—not the surrounding area.

They must've run in circles for hours.

One, to disorient them. Two, to weaken them. The lack of cooling had been intentional all along.

...and this was exactly why he'd stayed awake last time to stand guard. When would the babysitting stop? Hurting the bandit masquerading as a driver wasn't an option because of the man-eating lizards dragging them along. Few animals were as loyal, as strong, or as spiteful. There was nowhere to run, nothing but a camp of brigands and a sea of sand.

This was one of Luke's signature tactics.

Cérise put away his weapon. He gestured for Mish to do the same. She didn't, because she couldn't, because she'd begun to tremble.

She must've realized it, too: they'd been tricked by a band of slave traders.