Endalia

Stythl II

         “Well, Stythl. You certainly are a nice guard to have around.” Chrissy says, her molten golden voice lulling me like it usually does.

         “I make an effort. I figure I may as well earn my thousand gold.” I say, shrugging. It’s been a full week since she found me knocked out after running into the tree.

         “Yes, that’s good.” She agrees with me. She whips her hair around her head, since she’s combing it. “I feel comfortable washing myself around you. I don’t have to worry you’ll try and take advantage of a virgin lady’s weakness while she’s washing.” I glow with the compliment. “I haven’t been able to wash myself with previous guards. None I could trust like you.” She tells me.

         “It’s nice to be of use.” I tell her. “Before this, I just sat around at taverns drinking with the best of them and running away before they could make me pay up.” I shrug. “It’s an easy way to live, especially since I’ve trained with the Monks of the Bran Monastery. I’ve become a skilled hand fighter.” It’s true. I spent a year and a day at the Bran Monastery. It was a fun life and time. What I don’t tell Chrissy is my secret; I’d become a practiced Writer while at the Monastery.

         “Writing” is a term made by the Lady Duchess Carmella Duke. She’s by far the most powerful Writer to have ever existed. A practiced Writer can write maybe a phrase if they are extremely talented and powerful. I can write a letter or two, but that’s it. The Lady Duchess can write entire stories. Her stewardess, Pinedale, is said to be able to write paragraphs. That’s amazing.

    “Well, that’s not heroic at all.” Chrissy looks at me, almost pouting.

    “I didn’t say it was.” I feel stupid. I should have made up some lie to make her  more impressed. At least I said I trained at the Monastery.

    “You trained at the Bran Monastery.” Chrissy says, changing the subject. “Can you fight with swords? Aren’t the Bran Monks famous for fighting with those hooked swords of theirs?” She looks at me questioningly.

    “Well, yes, they are famous for that.” I don’t mention that that’s what they’re known for the most. Even if they do outdo themselves with hand-to-hand fighting. “I did learn a bit about hooked swords.” I admit. It’s true. “I took a few lessons.”

    “Well, let’s see what you can do!” Chrissy tells me. “I have two of them. Stole them from one of my previous guards.” She makes a face. “He tried to rape me. I ran.”

    I laugh. “Serves him right.” I say. “What kind of swords do you have?” I ask.

    “I’m not sure. They sparkle.” She says. She turns and rummages around in her bag. It’s about the size of a wine bottle. Must be some extending letter. Most likely the Inumba. “Here they are.” She says. She pulls out the swords.

    They’re exquisite in their make. I immediately notice the rubies in the blade. The edges are completely clear, and I think they’re made of diamond, flawlessly melted into the rubies.  It has a handle made of emeralds. The hooks on either are both sapphires.

    “That’s an impressive sword.” I say, understating them immensly.

    She looks at me slyly. “Just impressive?” She asks. “I think they’re far more than just impressive. They’re both entirely made of gems. These two are worth more than the entire city of Tourmaline.” Tourmaline is a city famous for its gemstones. “They’re entirely made out the hardest and most precious gemstones known to Endalia.” She says. That’s not entirely true. There’s one gemstone found only in the deepest reaches of the Southern Wastelands far harder and infinitely more precious than these two swords combined.

    “What about the mouris gem?” I ask her innocently.

    “Well, those haven’t been seen in over three thousand years.” She laughs. It’s a silver bell donging to my heart. “I don’t think they count.”

    “They’re still worth bringing up.” I argue.

    She looks at me slyly again. “Of course they are. They are, after all, what I’m going after.”