Afterlife's Vessel

IV

  "Kid, you've got no hope of saving Amyn."

Deciduoun's Archbishop blatantly explains to Albori, carrying a sardonic tone.

"As I said before, the closest registered camp they've set is twenty to thirty villages away. It'll take you ages to get there, and did you see how powerful Strain was? You've got a hell of an imagination if you think a little boy like you has a chance against her. Focus on school or something; witch hunting ain't for you."

"But Amyn's going to die. Aren't you worried? Even I know how much of a contribution he brings to the Retrievers in this city!"

"Retrievers pass away all the time. I've grown numb to it at this point. If they eventually get replaced anyway, why worry or mourn?"

"If you won't save him, I will! This probably doesn't mean much to a remorseless person like you; but Amyn has been with me for who knows how long, and the only way to repay him is literally with my life. Even if I die in the process of saving him, it'll only be marginally enough for how much he's done for me."

The Archbishop snickers at Albori's stubbornness. Out of amusement, he tosses him a thick, leather-covered notebook, with 'Amyntius Soliert' written in cursive on the cover.

"What is this?"

"Since you're so persistent, I've given you something that you can use to remain in contact with Amyntius. Whatever you've written or drawn inside the pages of this notebook shall be transferred to an identical copy that he has. There isn't much written inside, so there's a plentiful amount of vacant pages."

"T-Thanks, Old man!"

He hurriedly bows and sprints triumphantly from the Retrievers' tavern, returning to his now empty dorm room.

Unbeknownst to Amyn, Albori was going to save him from the curse. With information of the closest Jyckept camp from the Archbishop, he's set on a destination. Using the entirety of his financial resources, Albori has gathered a sufficient amount of food, water, and medicinal potions. With the scarce scraps inside both of his pockets combined, he enters a blacksmith shop, desperately wishing the owner would be charitable enough to give him a weapon with his limited budget.

"Uhm... Is there anything I could get with..."

Albori drops half a handful of coins on the table, awkwardly grimacing.

"This..?"

The blacksmith, scratching his head, sighs out of pity and ravages through a chest of old and unused metallic weaponry.

"I've gotta tell you, nobody's ever stepped inside this smith with only that. But since you've been helping the shops around here, I'll let it slide."

He drags a sturdy blade from the box of an abandoned arsenal. Instead of a traditional straight-edge blade, it resembled a blooming lavender. A curved stem ran from the hilt to almost a metre above, with petals encasing both sides. The hilt had floral patterns engraved in, and a wide hilt ornamented with carved vines. Although stylish, it seemed to lack a bit in practicality.

"I... Don't really know what this is, to be honest. A tourist brought it here a while ago, and barely gave me any background for the blade, only demanding his payment. A funny guy, I must say, but I think anybody would be curious what kind of blacksmith would forge this. That's enough rambling from me. This is in better condition than everything else inside, so it's the best I can give you, to be honest."

Still grateful for the storekeeper's generosity, Albori receives the sword and departs. After mailing his letter of withdrawal to school, he double-checks on everything in his bags- carrying an entire wagon's worth of supplies- to see if there is anything he's forgotten. Bidding a farewell to his place of education, Albori decides to give Amyn a visit in his house.