“She’s a beauty.”

A voice from behind Cheron cuts into his thoughts. He sits hunched over this work, lost in the little details of his side project. He turns to see his mentor standing at the doorway of the dusty workshop. The woman before him rarely gives him time to breathe, so any minute he can spare, he gives to his beloved sword.

“What’s her name?”she asks, referring to the sword.

Cheron sets the polishing cloth aside, pulling the sword off the table and weighing it in his broad, square hands.

“How do you know she is a ‘she’?” Rising, he swings it lightly, minding the small area. He slices through the motes in air that are only visible in the diluted white sunlight of a taller window.

“She’s a flashy one, and on the hefty side. I’ve noticed that is how you tend to like your women,” Seis teases, walking over and holding her hand out. She doesn’t need to ask to see it, Cheron is dying for his mentor’s opinion.

He grins and swears, “Sydion’s giglet, how would you know?” He holds the handle end of the sword out for her to take.

Looking at the way her muscles flex as she holds the weapon, one would think she was put on this Earth for the sole purpose of wielding the sword. Her facial expression gives her away too. She likes it, and Cheron is dying inside. This person he looks up to, a master of her art, is impressed with his work.

The sword itself is massive compared to her slender frame. She’s on the taller side, but not as tall as Cheron. “It’s long for you, don’t you think?” he notes.

“Now, that wouldn’t matter to a real master would it?” She grins and a look in her dark eyes concerns Cheron.

“Seis… you wouldn’t.”

“Have you been practicing your footing?” Seis grips the sword and swings it in the air playfully. Or what she believes to be playful, Cheron saw some purpose in that swing however.

Before he can answer the question, he leaps to the side, only just dodging a second well intended swipe by his mentor. He doesn’t have time to talk her out of it, so he grabs the closest bare blade and attempts to at least lure her out of the main shop.

Where all the expensive things are, he thinks. Although, in reality it should be her concern more than his.

“This sword is great,” Seis continues casually, “I’m a little cross you didn’t show me this before. You’re going to run me out of town.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Cheron huffs struggling to keep up with her movements.

“Cheron, you’re out of breath already? I’m going to have to have you start running laps around the exterior of the shop.”

Her striker stops mid-dodge, his eyes bright. This surprises Seis and she has to stop herself from maiming the young man.

“Does this mean you’ll finally take me up as a student?” he asks with optimism in his voice.

The woman chuckles, “No. I told you, I’m not a fighter, I’m a blacksmith.”

“Cow shit Seis, it’s obvious to anyone that you know what you’re doing.” Over the last three years, Cheron had pieced together that she was ex-military, but the woman was not particularly open about her past. “I may be the village idiot, but even I can tell that you whatever you were before you came here- you were no ordinary soldier.”

She shrugs, not offended, but amused in knowing that the ordeal is tormenting her student.

“Tell you what,” she proposes handing his sword back to him, “you make me 20 of these bad girls and I will consider it.”

Cheron frowns, “Seis, this took me 2 months.”

She shrugs, turns and heads up the stairs, “See you in 40 months then.”

“Seis!”

---

“I don’t think we’re in the right place Lunet’,” Trinsi mutters under her breath.

The two cloaked women are the only two souls on the street at the moment. Trinsi finds the air dusty and thick, it holds the heat in the air longer. The First Knight was sick of it.

“Don’t call me that here,” Lunetta warns.

“There’s no one here, that’s my point,” her friend says sourly.

They shuffle further down the cobblestoned streets, and all Trinsi can do is appreciate that it’s not dirt. The air is heavy enough without them kicking up more dry dirt.

“I spoke to the gentleman back there, he said a blacksmith named Seis has a smithery over where the prickling poppies are.” In the distance all they can see is the heat radiating off the floor, Lunetta cannot tell if they are walking towards yellow poppies or something else entirely.

Trinsi stops. “Wait, wouldn’t the Ester be 200 years old? What kind of blacksmith does this place have? Actually nevermind, judging from the look of the place, I’m wondering why they even bother with a blacksmith.”

“Trinsi.”

“Your Highness?”

“Shut up.”

They enter the smithery and the jingle of the door announces them to the man behind the counter. He is a big boned man, the type you would picture to be perfect for the trade.

Is the Ester a man? Trinsi wonders, no the Esters were all women warriors. The man is too young to be the person they are looking for regardless.

“Welcome, how may I be of service?” He places the sword he was in the midst of polishing down on a seperate counter behind him.

The sword is gorgeous Trinsi observes. Unexpected, but perhaps she should take a look around before they leave.

Lunetta greets the man, “Hello, I am looking for the owner of this shop, is that you?”

“Oh no, unfortunately the owner is out for the moment, I can take a messag-” He trails off when a woman steps out from a swinging door behind the man.

“Cheron you cow tit, how many times do I have to tell you to buy your own food-”

“The owner is right here,” he corrects himself with a customer service smile.

The woman glosses over the two visitors, before walking across the shop and continuing up a wooden set of stairs. “Nope, I’m out for the rest of the day.”

Cheron mutters something about a giglet under his breath.

Lunetta boldly follows after the woman, if this woman is the person they are looking for, she’s not going to let her get away. “I’m sorry mam, if we could please have a moment of your time!” She doesn’t follow her up the stairs, instead she walks alongside her path on the other side of the banister.

Seis sighs audibly, stopping and leaning over the railing. The visitor is older than Seis, not significantly, perhaps in her mid thirties. Nothing about her initial appearance is outstanding, but her bone structure and body build is striking. Her cloak is on the plain side, but not worn, Seis deduces that she is not from around here and definitely upper class.

“What do you want? I know all bronze over there is a little dense, but I promise he can help you with whatever it is you need.” Seis’s tone is not polite.

Lunetta flashes the sigil of the Syardom, a cloth only those of the royal family carry, “No. We need your help.”

The dark-haired woman winces, “I especially can’t help you and now I have to ask you to leave. Cheron-”

Underneath her cloak, Trinsi reaches for her sword strapped to her waist, but stops when Lunetta raises her hand.

“The Stormdom is back.”

The shopkeeper pales, but recovers promptly.

“Good for them.”

This time Trinsi is unable to stay silent.

She steps forward in defense of her sovereign, her blue eyes glaring. “How can you say that?! And how dare you disrespect the heir of the Syardom!?”

The woman isn’t put off by Trinsi’s tactic, “Look, sorry if I think the Syars had it coming, but even if I had empathy for your cause I wouldn’t be able to help you.” She looks away, “If they’re truly here, then we’ve already lost.”

“Seis, you’re an Ester?” Cheron asks with wide eyes from behind the counter. He is typically slow at putting two and two together, but he’s on the dot this time.

While mostly received as folklore, the adventures of the Esters are continued to be told to children. Their epic saga ending at the infamous Battle of Oakson, where they put an end to the terrors of the Stormdom. Two hundred solid years of peace, but the cost was high, the sacrifice of the beloved Esters themselves.

Trinsi turns to Lunetta, “Wait- she’s the Ester?” She does a double take to reinspect Seis. The woman couldn’t be over 25. Besides, Trinsi had seen portraits of the warriors back at the palace, standing neat and clean like proper soldiers. This woman is unkempt and covered in soot. On top of that, she doesn’t have the build of a blacksmith either.

Seis presses her lips, “The Esters are long gone, I’m sorry.”

“Please.”

Lunetta gets on her knee and Trinsi is horrified, she is only now realizing that the entire fate of the Syardom lies in this shopkeeper. They’re not here to learn about what they’re up against, they’re here because Lunetta needs a miracle. She drops on one knee as well.

Cheron steps around the counter and approaches Seis. The respect he had for her reached a level he hadn’t known existed.

“You have to help them,” he says softly.

“Cheron, the Syars are the reason the Esters- my family is gone.” There is a chill in her voice, “They had no problem sacrificing them for their own gain in the past and nothing is any different now. That’s why your here right? I’m not fighting this battle for you again. I had no obligation the first time, nor do I this time.”

“But you have to do something,” Cheron bursts out, his eyebrows twitching together in dismay. He would argue for fun with her on the regular, but this is the first time his disagreement with her is serious. “You think they’ll stop once they’ve conquered the Syardom? They’ll come for all of us and what will you be doing? Forging swords and taking naps all day? That’s cow shit and you know it, I’m going with them Seis.”

The man worries that Seis will call his bluff. He’s never set a foot outside Southern Falls, and while he doesn’t mind tagging along with the two mysterious women if Seis goes, he won’t be of any use if he goes alone. He knows nothing about real fighting or the Storms.

“You can’t always be the hero Cheron, I had to accept that long ago.” She swallows anxiously, “Sometimes bad things will happen. Call it the Will of God or the Wrath of Mother Earth. I won’t stop you from going with them, but I can’t live that again.”

Cheron is thrown by the response. Seis, even when serious, has always been playful and witty.

Lunetta rises and dusts herself off, cutting into the conversation, “I never cared for my family’s behavior. I don’t care about this title either. I could leave the Syardom, go into hiding and pray for the best, but I am not without conscience. 45,000 people live in the Syardom and most are working class. They don’t have the resources to flee or protect themselves. I am no better than my predecessors if I leave. And if what you’re telling me is true- that we have already lost this fight- then there is no point in fleeing either. I’m not asking you to fight our battles for us, but to help us fight it with you.”

The gears are turning in Seis’s mind and it shows. While Cheron knows the woman to be stubborn, argumentative and rude, she is a woman of reason.

“You only brought one soldier with you into Southern Falls? She must be one of your best.”

Trinsi isn’t fond of her condescending tone and speaks up. She puffs out the white emblem embroidered into the blue fabric of her tunic that until that moment was concealed beneath the layers of her cloak.

“I am the First Knight of the Syars,” she introduces. Her hood falls back to reveal her fair hair, rare for a Syar, but not uncommon with her complexion.

Seis returns her gaze to Lunetta, “I’ll tell you what, if your knight is able to land a hit on me with her sword, then I will consider it.”

Trinsi is fuming. Lunetta notices her struggling to keep her composure and admittedly finds it slightly amusing.

“We accept your proposition,” she says with a hard nod.