I tossed the flask aside and unwrapped my sheathed sword. Drawing the sword, I threw the sheath aside as well. The damned sword. Plain steel and a simple pommel. The only clues to its quality were the blue tint to the metal and the crest embossed into the heel of the hilt.

It was one of the only mementos of my past I had kept, if only for the sake of practicality, but it caused just as much trouble as it solved, not to mention all the painful memories it dredged up. I eyed the crest with disgust and longing, in equal measure.

The pounding of the Brutes feet jarred me out of my reminiscence, and I looked up to see the Ilfid tearing straight at me. The sword it carried was easily as long as I was tall, and as wide as the width of both my hands. I had no time for fancy tricks with runes this time, I’d have to go with my normal tricks.

I stepped forward to meet the bug as it swept its sword down at my shoulder, trying to bisect me in one swing. I reached out to the Flow and nudged the sword’s current to the side and watched as it skimmed past my shoulder and buried itself in the ground.

I stepped in with my empty hand, invested a bit of power directly into my arm, and slammed my fist into its chitinous torso. It stumbled back a few steps from the force, but I followed up with a nasty swipe of my sword down its leg, opening a chink in its natural armor. One would expect blood, but ichor seeped through the crack; bug juice as I called it.

I stepped to my right to open some space, but the Brute didn’t waste any time, wrenching its sword out of the ground at my head in one powerful move. I nudged it further up with the Flow, the wind of its passing almost strong enough to do some damage by itself.

That was two close calls now. That’s what made the Brutes interesting. Their willpower was almost strong enough to overcome my influence on the Flow. Almost. It was best not to be overconfident.

I rushed back in and viciously chopped at the same leg, taking out a large chunk of chitin. The damn thing’s natural armor almost jarred the sword out of my hand, and I was forced to jump away to recover. The Brute didn’t give me any breathing room though and lunged after me with a powerful overhead swing.

I tried to nudge its current in the Flow again, but too late I realized the bug in front of me had hardened its resolve and its will was enough to overcome the simple trick. Jumping back again, I quickly empowered my already outstretched hand and deflected the massive blade with my fist.

Crunching noises reverberated through my arm as my demolished hand was forced aside. I clenched my teeth, holding in a scream as the bones in my hand shifted around from the aftershocks.

A careless mistake. Time to rely on my own currents instead.

I reached for the Flow once again, but this time I augmented the currents for my sword and legs. I dashed toward the Brute, my agility that of a dancer as the currents empowered my movements. The bug warily dodged to the side, favoring its leg, unwilling to let me get in too close for another clean strike.

It tried a few more massive swings, but my movement speed made them almost irrelevant, and I didn’t bother to try to nudge them away. I feinted to the bug’s good side, then lunged to its bad side as it committed to its defense.

I doubled down on the empowerment of my sword’s current and put all my strength into another chop, right at the weak spot I’d created before. My sword sliced through the chitin cleanly, like butter, and the force carried me further and harder than I had prepared for, forcing me to stumble a little.

The Brute’s earth-shattering screech almost blew my ears out as the bug tumbled to the ground, thrashing around in agony. I retreated a fair distance to avoid any inadvertent injury or bug juice as it flailed around, searching for me in its incoherent rage.

The Brutes were the most interesting Ilfids, I thought to myself as I drew a rune in front of me. They were incredibly strong, powerful enough on their own to sweep through whole teams of men, assuming anyone stuck around to have a standup fight with on. I completed the rune and touched the Flow with my intent and willpower. Bending down to pick up a stone from the ground, I backed away to give myself some room.

I gauged the angle and distance, then chucked the rock through the rune at the Brute. The rock struck the Ilfid lightly on the chest, but the power it carried crushed it to the earth, splitting chitin and breaking limbs. It was a close thing. Even in its state, the bug’s willpower almost unraveled my trick before it could strike.

It wasn’t enough to outright kill it; the damn Brute lived up to its name. Its flailing ceased though, and ichor seeped through the shattered chitin. I briefly pitied the creature, but then remembered the destruction the damn things brought upon the world. The only good bug was a dead bug, and I wasn’t above swatting them when I saw one.

I spit off to the side and turned to survey the line of wagons, looking for any other interesting happenings. It looked like the rest of the guards had weathered the attack rather well. A few guards were standing still, staring in my direction. I was too far away to get a good look at their expression, but it could only mean trouble for me.

Damn that Kan’on, and damn me too. I shouldn’t have let his antics get me riled up. I drew a quick and dirty rune and invested it with what remained of my power, then poked at the Flow with my intent. I stuck my shattered fist through the rune and once again clenched my teeth in agony. The crunching sounds this time heralded the bones in my hands setting themselves back in place. The actual healing element would take a bit longer, as I didn’t have much power left after resetting the bones.

Kan’on’s smothering battle aura warned me of his approach. I looked him up and down as he approached, not a spec of bug juice or dirt on the man. He was as composed and serene as ever. Disgusting. I almost scooped up some dirt to throw at him, but that kind of behavior was beneath me. Barely.

“You injured yourself. You’re getting careless in your old age I see. Guess it’s time for you to retire. Master.” The last was said with a thinly contained smirk.

“Don’t you start. Brutes are always trouble, that’s what makes it fun. And I actually had to try a little, unlike you with your prancing around over there.”

“I’m surprised that a Brute emerged from the Labyrinth. They must have had their feathers ruffled by something big.”

Before I could reply, I was interrupted by the familiar clomping of Clyde’s horse making its way to them through the line of wagons. He stopped a fair distance away, surveying the aftermath of my fight with the Ilfid’s warrior caste. Looking around, his face paled slightly as he inspected the thick chitin cracked and shattered around the Brute’s cooling body.

His eyes roved back to me and then down to the sword in my hand, and his face went from pale to ghostly. Shit, I looked down at the sword in my hand, specifically the crest, and cringed.

“Ardashir the Cursed,” Clyde muttered, then blanched at his own words.

“It’s Dash these days, and if we’re using made-up titles, why not Dash the Dashing? Or maybe Dash the Handsome Wanderer?”

Clyde gave an abbreviated bow, looking uncertain whether he should or not. Eyes wide with not a small amount of fear, he kicked his horse into a gallop and took off toward the front of the caravan.

“Shit,” I said eloquently. I searched around for my sheath and cloth covering for my sword. The damn thing was more trouble than it was worth. I didn’t know how many times I’d thought of throwing it away, but I could never bring myself to do it. Finished with swaddling the damn thing, I hid my reach to my cubby with my robe and fumbled around for another flask. The upcoming conversation was going to be awkward.

“Come on, I want to be comfortable when that peacock comes back with his handler.” Having said that, I ambled back to the wagon.

Jass, his expression the model of equanimity, still sat with his spear across his lap. Good man. I suspected he had been more than a driver in a previous life. Good, solid, and dependable. If I wasn’t such a polarizing person living the life I was forced to live, I might have tried to recruit him away from the caravan.

“Jass, my man. We’re about to get a visit from the caravan master and his sparkling flunky. Might want to make yourself scarce if you want to avoid getting dragged into the mix.”

“Oh look, it appears that the horses are in need of inspection. And it looks like Bert is having trouble with his cargo.” He set his spear aside, jumped down, and set off for his ‘inspection.’

“I like him,” Kan’on said with a chuckle, “Let’s steal him when we’re done with this.”

“We can’t go stealing people, then we’d be just as bad as the bugs.”

Kan’on rolled his eyes and settled back down into his original position, leaning against the wagon’s rail with his sword propped up against his chest. I settled in too, taking the occasion swig from my flask.

We didn’t have to wait long, the characteristic sounds of a noble’s retinue echoed down the road as they approached. The man in question slowed his horse and approached cautiously, leaving all but Clyde and an unknown man in dark, almost black, brigandine armor, head and face hidden behind a scarf.

Mr. Black tightly contained his presence. I hid a smirk. This was probably their guarantee if their approach got rowdier than they wanted. Jokes on them, Mr. Black’s willpower was a limp noodle, even compared him to Kan’on.

“Count Orleander. What a pleasure to see you on this fine sunny day,” I said.

The Count was decked out in an outfit that was likely worth more than the whole caravan combined, if in subdued colors. A brocade overcoat layered over the most elaborately patterned brigandine I’d ever laid eyes on attested to his success as a trader, if not his taste in fashion.

“Your Grace, I was surprised to be informed that you managed to get yourself hired into my guard corps and were masquerading as a drunken layabout. I would have offered you more pleasant accommodations if you had made yourself known to me,” he said with a stiff and oh-so-proper bow.

Interesting. He didn’t open with a belligerent diatribe or try to throw me out immediately despite the possible danger in doing so. He was either unconcerned with the rumors surrounding my fall, or he wanted something. Maybe both.

“None of that ‘Your Grace’ business, it’s just Dash these days, and the manner in which you find me is my preferred state.”

Orleander pursed his lips in distaste. His eyes flickered between me and Kan’on, a hint of confusion in his eyes. He then briefly focused his attention on the concealed sword in my lap before focusing his attention back on me.

“You have been absent from your seat as Duke for nearly 20 years, but you are still a Duke. It would be remiss of me to ignore the proper forms. However, I will settle for simply Ardashir, if you would allow it.” He relaxed a little in response to my nod.

“I recognize your companion’s manner of dress and sword. I believe you are a student of Skyreach Pinnacle?” he asked Kan’on.

“I am Kan’on of the Thousand Isles, Heir to Skyreach Pinnacle, and lately student of Ardashir Altandran. It is a pleasure to meet you Count Orleander.”

Clyde’s eyes went as round as full moons, while Orleander only showed his surprise for an instant before replacing his impenetrable noble mask. Mr. Black showed no reaction at all, body still and face hidden.

I gave Kan’on a quirked side eye. The bastard was too smooth for his own good. It wasn’t enough to brag about being the heir, he also had to throw in his exotic origins. I brought the flask to my lips and took a sip.

Clyde’s outraged eyes flew to the flask in my hands, then to my eyes watching him. He quickly averted his gaze, letting the contraband alcohol go unremarked. I grinned, rubbing it in.

“Clyde tells me that you defeated an Ilfid Brute. The presence of one of their ilk is concerning, to say the least. I can’t remember the last time I’ve even seen a report of a sighting, let alone seen one. You seem to live up to your reputation though. A reward is in order, obviously, for preventing great loss of life to my caravan.”

“There’s no need for a reward Orleander. We are, after all, employed by you as paid guards. We were only doing our duty. Isn’t that right Kan’on?”

“That is correct. It would be greedy of us to accept a reward in exchange for the lives of our brothers in arms.”

Count Orleander’s pained expression brought waves of joy to my heart. No way was I going to be put in a position to owe the man anything. To a man like him, it didn’t matter that we killed the Brute to earn it, he would only see it as a way to buy a favor that he would hold over us forever.

“As you say. However, I cannot have two such as you under my employ as guards, so consider yourselves relieved of duty.” A note of sarcasm crept into his voice. “Since you won’t accept a reward, you will be paying passengers from here on. Consider the death of the Brute as covering the cost of passage. I will arrange to have your pay brought to you. Is there no way I can convince you to accept an invitation to… better accommodations?”

“As I said, this is my preferred state. I’ll be most happy down here in the dirt and dust with the rest of the riff raff.”

“So be it. If you have need, you know where to find me. Also, I would speak with you about a matter, once we reach our destination.” Without waiting for a response, he wheeled his horse around and kicked it into a canter. Clyde immediately followed, still avoiding looking in my direction.

Mr. Black hung back, I assumed to try to intimidate us with his presence. I just returned his look with a mild look of my own, unimpressed. Next to me, Kan’on let out a soft snort. Finally, Mr. Black guided his horse away, unhurried. There was a touch of familiarity to his presence, but I couldn’t place it. He probably served me in some capacity at some point. His apparent dislike made sense.

“The wagons are actually quite clean, all things considered,” Kan’on said.

I couldn’t help but laugh and said, “Not to a man like him. He wouldn’t be caught dead without his little luxuries, even in a caravan.” I took another swig from the flask and squirreled it away in my cubby. “That went much better than expected, all things considered. Make no mistake though, he wants something. Very few people are willing to be friendly with me without ulterior motives.”

Standing up proved to more difficult than I expected. The booze had caught up to me a little. I shuffled around, placing my pack and extra clothes as a pillow, then laid down.

“What are we doing now? While playing guard was entertaining for a while, I’m still not sure what we’re doing here,” Kan’on said.

“I’m traveling to Dormar chasing a rumor. There is something there that might help me.”

“Your curse. I’ve been with you for a few months now, traveling constantly, but we have yet to stop for long and I have not seen it in action.”

“Nothing really to see, I’m just forced to keep moving, eventually.”

“How much time do you have?”

“It varies. Sometimes a single day. Other times up to a few weeks. I don’t know why.”

“This rumor you’re chasing is something that would lift it?”

“That’s the idea. That’s always the idea. You can see for yourself how well it worked out in the past. First though, I need a nap. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to nap the next few days to whatever mudhole town we’re stopping in next.”

All I heard as I drifted off was Kan’on’s disgruntled grumbling.