A Song of Magic and Swords

Chapter 2 leave

The next morning, just as the first light of dawn was peeking out in the sky, Finn arrived at the tavern. The fireplace was still flickering with a dim flame, and the waiter was busy sweeping the floor. Some rather indulgent customers were scattered around the tables. Rode was already seated at a table near the entrance, waiting for him.

"Old friend, how are you feeling?" Rode asked cheerfully.

"Not bad. After leaving the tavern last night, I went to gather some necessary travel supplies," Finn replied, taking off his sword belt and sitting down. "The lady was very generous. She picked out the best items to purchase."

"She must come from a wealthy family," Rode shrugged. "But why learn magic? By the Warrior God, if I had such a lovely daughter, I wouldn't let her pursue magic."

Finn couldn't help but wonder why Rode was swearing by the Warrior God as a tavern owner. Despite his thoughts, he still asked, "Do you know her surname? Although he suspected Rode knew more than he did, Finn couldn't help but ask, "I even feel Nysa might not be her full name, just a nickname, or even an alias."

Rode shrugged awkwardly. "I know you'll be traveling with her for a long time, but since she's not willing to share, we shouldn't pry."

"Of course, it's not you accompanying her, so you don't care," Finn sighed, shaking his head. "I still haven't figured out why I agreed to this job in the first place."

Rode looked at Finn, gesturing for him to continue.

"Maybe the temptation of those one thousand gold coins was too great, or perhaps the unknown nature of this journey stirred my adventurous spirit, I don't know," Finn continued. "But I never accept commissions rashly before everything is clear, let alone not knowing the client's name."

"Listen, Finn, you can interpret this as fate's arrangement," Rode said mysteriously, unwrapping a sword wrapped in expensive fine cloth from the chair beside him. Facing Finn, Rode uncovered the scabbard and hilt.

It was a rather plain-looking sword, except for a blue gem at the top of the hilt, engraved with a symbol. The scabbard and hilt seamlessly merged, slightly shorter and slimmer than Finn's sword, perfectly proportioned and irresistibly grippable.

Unable to recognize the symbol, Finn looked at Rode in puzzlement. "Is this the best sword of Devir you mentioned?"

"Of course," Rode said, looking affectionately at the sword. "The best." At this point, R

"Of course, Miss Nysa," Rode stepped aside to make way for Nysa. "Please, come in and enjoy the breakfast I've prepared for you."

Nysa nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Fynn, who remained silent, watching her. A refreshing morning breeze swept by, carrying the scent of grass and dew, tousling Nysa's golden-red ponytail and the gray cloak. The wooden sign of the tavern also swayed in the wind. Fynn had intended to say something, but he was captivated by the scene before him and hesitated to interrupt it.

In the end, it was Nysa who broke the silence with a gentle smile. "Come join us, Fynn," she said before walking into the tavern.

As Fynn turned to follow her inside, he caught a glimpse of a figure passing by about a hundred yards away on the street. Immediately alert, he glanced in that direction, but to his eyes, the street was empty.

"Rode, you don't need to accompany us this far," Fynn said, leading his horse and speaking to Rode who was walking ahead. Fynn's horse, a grey stallion, was purchased the previous night: strong, sturdy, and with excellent endurance, but also quite expensive. Fynn had given it a fitting name, Stormcloud.

"No need to worry. Besides, there aren't many people in the tavern this early, except for those drunkards," Rode glanced back at Fynn. "My assistant can handle them, though they sometimes break a glass or two themselves. I've deducted their wages for that, of course," he added with a smirk.

"You should treat your assistant and staff better. After all, your tavern has the most patrons in Deville. It's not easy to take care of so many customers," Fynn shook his head.

Rode raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at the mercenary. "Since when did you become so compassionate?" he quipped.

"I was just saying. It's up to you whether you listen or not," Fynn glanced at Rode, then fell silent.

Nysa walked beside Rode, leading a sandy-colored mare, engrossed in twirling her oak staff, completely oblivious to the conversation between Fynn and Rode. When she realized that Rode had stopped walking, she noticed they had reached the gates of Deville. Though the sun had just begun to shed its light, several caravans were already gearing up, with people carefully inspecting horses and goods. Guards stood in pairs at the gate, lazily observing, waiting for the shift change.

In Deville, it seemed that a large army wasn't necessary; a few soldiers were enough to maintain basic order. This secluded city, untouched by war since its inception, owed its tranquility to its location in the southwest corner of the Valis continent, away from any strategic significance, and its neutrality, refraining from alliances and wars. These factors shielded it from the ravages of war, allowing it to prosper.

As caravans departed and new ones joined, the gate became increasingly bustling, a typical day in Deville. The sun had risen halfway above the horizon, and the azure sky was devoid of clouds, as if one could be drawn into its blue depths. The wind had also softened compared to previous days, no longer chilling to the bone.

"Let's go," Fynn emerged from his reverie, addressing Nysa beside him.

Nysa turned her head slightly towards Fynn, nodding with a smile. "Yes."

Rode approached Fynn, patting his shoulder. "Farewell, my friend. May the Warrior God watch over you."

"You too, Rode. Farewell," Fynn felt a pang of sadness, an unfamiliar emotion that made him question whether accepting this commission was truly worthwhile.

Nysa politely approached Rode, softly expressing her gratitude and bidding farewell.

Rode suddenly changed his tone from his previous compliments, his expression turning serious as he looked at Nysa. "May you always walk in the light, Nysa, never wavering in your beliefs, even in the darkest of times."

Nysa looked at the innkeeper, surprised, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "Rode, could you... say that again?"

Rode immediately reverted to his usual politeness and reverence. "Ah... Miss Nysa, perhaps I'm just feeling a bit sentimental about our parting. Please accept my sincerest blessings, may the Warrior God also watch over you."

Though puzzled, Nysa didn't press further; after all, he was just an ordinary innkeeper. She smiled and nodded in gratitude to Rode.

As the sun fully emerged on the horizon, Fynn and Nysa embarked on their journey, Rode standing at the city gate, watching their figures grow smaller until they disappeared from view.

The wheel of fate began to turn according to its own will, and no one could escape its influence.