Chapter 59: Changes Are Coming To Sigil Town

  Julie reached the farm, finding Willam searching for weeds among his crops. Her haste meant Willam left the camp a while ago. Maybe he left as soon as she rose to confront Durian. In that case, he might not have…seen anything.

  Willam’s head rose, facing her as she slowed her sprint to a jog, then to a full stop by the edge of the field he was in. Depending on what he’d seen, he might not want to talk with her at all. Her mouth opened, wanting to spew words that would make sense and somehow make it seem as if she hadn’t been lying to Willam for weeks. Words like that had yet to be invented. Only weak stuttering made its way to the farmer.

  After seeing her fumbling, he bent back down, grabbing a bundle of green sprouts tight, digging his fingers into the ground along their stems before grabbing hold of the roots. With an experienced yank he pulled the entire thing from the ground, making it look effortless. He found another sprout of weeds, repeating his previous actions without the need to move between them. Next, he brought the two dirt-shedding bundles of roots toward Julie, turning before reaching her to throw them into the compost pile.

  He looked at her as he walked past again. The only emotion Julie could read from his usually kind eyes was pain. She reached for his arm, grabbing it tight with a longing hand.

  “Willam—”

  “Julie…I’ve got work to do.”

  His voice didn’t hide the rest of his feelings as well as his eyes had, carrying distress and distrust both along with the sadness. Julie’s heart had ached at the sight, but listening to his voice made it so much worse.

  “Let me explain,” she begged.

  They had never spoken about where they were heading—the path they were treading together—but she knew his feelings as well as she did her own. There was something there, something she couldn’t act on without him knowing the real her. Therein lay the problem: no one could know the real her. It would endanger her and everyone around her, not least…him. Julie could fend for herself—her training had started before she could walk—but Willam was a gentle soul without a violent bone in his body.

  His eyes fixed on hers, gentle-yet-roiling. He allowed her time and words, but for how long was his prerogative. Julie’s chest beat harder and faster from the look he shared, her heart pounding more now than when fighting Durian or sprinting here. Time. Words. Speak, Julie.

  “I…Durian is…it isn’t—”

  Too many words fought for freedom in too small an amount of time. Willam saved her further embarrassment, reaching the wrong conclusion as he did:

  “I’m happy you found each other again, Julie. I won’t be standing in the way of you being together.”

  “Willam—”

  “But all I ask is that you don’t do that here. I hope you understand.”

  Julie’s entire world shattered. Why? Why did he leave before her confrontation with Durian had concluded? If he had stayed behind, if he had believed in her, in them, this would’ve resolved itself! Now, instead of being happy for finally finding a part of her childhood again, he wanted her to leave. But he didn’t understand.

  Her hand shifted on his forearm, still clutching him, but softening its grip. He must’ve seen the regret welling up in her as he faced her properly with a sorrowful expression, nodding to let her speak her mind. A flame flickered within her, red and vibrant as her hair. It was already too late to keep clutching to her secrets. Sigil Lake already knew. Willam had to hear it from her before anyone else could tell him.

  “I last saw Durian when I was five. He was an older kid in Blacklake, our town, ten, maybe twelve years old. Our town smiths’ skill and our metal brought attention to us. One day, it was the wrong kind of attention. It’s been called the purge. They destroyed it all: the town, the people…all killed except for me. Or so I thought until today.”

  At the mention of their ages, Willam’s expression turned to regret. The words he’d said, the thoughts he’d had didn’t resonate with how young she had been. They couldn’t have been lovers as Willam had feared, but that wasn’t all that had hurt him. Still, he listened to what she had to say.

  “Blacklake was…it was a smithing town first, a mercenary town second, everything else last. I was trained as a warrior from the moment I was born. After the purge, I…I ended up doing the last thing anyone would think a Blacklake survivor would do; foresting. With Havoc passed down to me by my dying father during the purge, I made a new life for us. It’s been with me ever since—” Julie froze, the familiar weight of her partner axe gone. She remembered tackling Durian, their axes falling to the ground. She’d never picked it back up before running after Willam! How would Havoc feel about that?

  “I’ve never seen you without your axe,” Willam said, seeing her reaction and her other arms instinctively grasping for its handle.

  Julie calmed after seeing his reaction. He was always so calm. Soothing. No longer did he seem hostile, like a wounded animal. His nurturing nature was winning out over everything else, even though Julie had explained little.

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  Willam stepped closer, causing Julie to look further up to still hold his gaze. Her heart thumped harder, her temperature rising as she flushed. Even in this evening light, she could see his rosy cheeks revealing the same happening to him. They’d grown close the past two weeks—was this Willam taking it one step further?

  “I must’ve forgot,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  “You forgot your axe…for me?”

  Parading across town were Theo and Grace, in tow behind Durian, talking about Blacklake and his past. When the purge had happened—the total annihilation of Blacklake and everyone and everything within it—Durian had been a kid. A well-trained mercenary smith, but still a kid.

  Blacklake training started early and never finished; the few that reached an age that could be considered ‘elder’ were still improving their smithing techniques, learning new combat abilities or mastering new weapons. The Slayer weapons, like his and Julie’s war axes, had been a somewhat recent invention utilising the iron variant mined from the mountains hiding the smithing town. Three Slayer axes existed, two of which now found their home in Sigil Lake. Besides the axes, forged by Julie’s father Axiom, there were two Slayer swords forged by her uncle, a lesser-known smith that Durian couldn’t remember the name of. To Durian’s knowledge, those five weapons were all that specific smithing branch had made.

  Durian also couldn’t remember how he got hold of Fellswing, the Beastslayer. It lay beside him in the carriage he woke up in after the purge had almost taken his life.

  “I changed my name to hide my connection with Blacklake and became a mercenary in hopes of finding those who destroyed my home. I became Drian the Red and made a name for myself, but I never found the ones who did it. After many years, I started gravitating toward dungeons. Then, I decided to give up the mercenary life and find a dungeon town.”

  “And here you are,” Theo guessed.

  Durian nodded with a grunt.

  “You changed your name to hide, but you only changed it from Durian to Drian?” Grace asked. Theo didn’t dare ask the same earlier, so he was happy she took the lead.

  “Different name, right?”

  “It’s very…similar.”

  “Agree to disagree,” Durian said, then raised his hand to signal the others to halt.

  Theo leaned around the large man to see what he’d seen, finding Willam and Julie together. Their reason for being here was to find Willam to see if he was safe and sound, and Julie who had rushed after him. Theo hadn’t expected to find them both embracing each other, sharing a deep kiss.

  “Someone took the plunge,” Grace said with a slight smile as she looked at Theo. “Want to make another bet which of them did?”

  “You still have a debt to pay for losing the first bet,” Theo grinned in return. “It would’ve been Julie, though.”

  Grace grumbled. “I suppose I do. I wouldn’t call them childhood friends, but that’s a weak argument. Though Willam must’ve been the one to go for it, Julie wouldn’t risk it if she thought he was mad at her.”

  “Why would he be mad?”

  “Are you such a dork that you don’t understand basic human relations? He was in love with a forester, then a jacked-up man comes along, and the town thinks it’s her long-lost lover. I thought you were just being polite, but do you not understand what’s going on around you?”

  Grace seemed mad. Thinking this was all about Willam and Julie’s kiss would’ve been na?ve at best, ignorant at worst. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but Theo did what he always did: pretend he was as dim as Grace had started to suspect and politely ignore it. The priestess’ walls made it difficult to understand her true feelings and intentions—the opposite of Wen, who wore her heart on her sleeve.

  “I’d think he’d feel more sorry for himself than mad,” Theo offered.

  “True, he isn’t usually prone to anger. Hell, he isn’t prone to anything but kindness. I get your point. Bet’s off.”

  Success.

  Theo smiled. “We should back off a little, right?”

  Durian nodded and turned towards Theo and Grace. “Let’s go, kids.” He spread his arms to guide the two shorter people away in an oddly fatherly manner.

  “What’re you—”

  Grace resisted, though she didn’t fight as hard as Theo knew she could, considering her true strength. He’d like to know who was stronger—Grace or Durian, or even Julie—but that would have to wait. Theo accepted the odd guiding arm of Durian, heading back towards the Barge.

  “How did you like the dungeon in the forest?” Theo asked moments later.

  Durian scoffed. “Too easy. Boss was fun, but weak against axes. Nothing convoluted that pure strength couldn’t win against. I liked it.”

  “You do strike me as the straightforward brawling kind,” Grace chuckled.

  Theo looked up at the towering giant, finding him laughing. Durian placed a titanic hand on Theo’s and Grace’s furthest shoulders and pulled them closer to each other in front of him. They collided, Durian’s gentle pulling a friendly gesture.

  “I like this place.”

  Theo chuckled at his antics. Durian wasn’t at all what he expected him to be.

  Bells rang with every step. The constant barrage of clanging, clinging, mewling and crying assaulted her every sense, bringing on a headache that had already lasted for hours. At first she was glad she’d found others to travel with, finding the animals cute enough to cuddle with even as she hitched a ride in the wagon. The wares weighing down the carriage were soft, for the most part, providing some comfort for a little while. But sitting in comfort while others did work wasn’t how Lady wanted to do things.

  The wagon owner seemed a pleasant fellow, and the two of them bonded over their shared annoyance of the animals herded along with them by a farmer heading the same way. They found they had all been recruited to Sigil Lake, a newly founded town that already had whispered rumours about it crossing the continent. The half-legion of Ercheat military soldiers heading in the same direction didn’t bode well for its future, but Lady had already accepted—going back on her word was never an option to her.

  An army division would move slow, set up camp early in the evening and be on its way again late in the morning. While she had crossed their path at the very start of her journey, she reckoned she and her two travelling companions—and the blasted animals, of course—would reach their destination three days before the army. In good time to warn whoever had earned the ire of the Queen.

  And what a way to earn it.

  A short trek away, enough to reach the landmark before midnight, was what laced every able-tongued mouth in the continent; Arcana’s supposed self-image, the towering height only half as grand as the gesture directed at the queen—allegedly. And by Arcana herself, was it grand!

  “We’re here,” Lady said, eyeing the trader before turning to face the sleepy farmer herding his sheppies. At least the large bovodines had been pleasant company on this trip.

  “Time to see what chaos brought us here,” said Alvin, his moustache trembling at every movement of his lips. “And what petty goods they think are worth a full-time tradesman.”