“You should give it a name, friend.”

“I can’t think of anything… And besides – why should I do it?”

“I don’t know… All magical weapons I’ve heard about have names. And not just ordinary sounding ones, at that. Most are also in Emhaelic.”

“Fine, fine… I’ll think of something”, mumbled Ehrir. Lantor was starting to get on his nerves. Their argument was going on for a solid ten minutes now and the Undone One was already more willing to jump off into the sea and embrace its salty depths than to stay and listen to Lantor’s crap.

The two sorcerers were standing on the harbor and watched as hundreds of sailors prepared Ostrias’ ships for sailing. The vessels bearing the Ashen Gaze’s symbol were around sixty and formed a massive fleet. It’d be definitely a sight to behold once all of them went out to the sea. The noises made by the dozens of working crews alone were enough to sound intimidating. During the last couple of days the weather became slightly better, with the blue color reigning in the sky again, only obscured by a little specks of grey and white here and there. The wind was strong too, making for a good seafaring conditions.

It was well past noon, but the heat from almost a month ago was gone. Standing out in the open was almost pleasant now, in fact, let alone bearable. Ehrir looked down at the short sword hanging on his waist. One week had passed since he helped Lantor in creating his flaming claymore. The man had bought one cross-hilted sword for him as a reward for the transmogrification. It was the best blade around (if he could trust the words of the only blacksmith in Nalevas, which were… questionable, more or less). Small, light, well-balanced and good for beginners in the art of swordsmanship, according to Lantor. The aforementioned had helped Ehrir enchant the weapon after Ehrir himself gave it magical capabilities. Now every time when the Undone One would let his energy flow through the clean, shiny steel, it activated a passive spell of sorts. Once in action, it covered the blade in immense frost that could damage the enemies’ flesh just by touching it. It was quite powerful and did its job very well, although Ehrir still couldn’t figure out how the passive magic really worked.

Not a lot of events happened in the previous week. Except one. And it was that Ostrias finally gave the order for his men to move out, although he didn’t do it on the day mentioned in his talk with Ehrir. The preparations were going for almost half a week now and were (fortunately) finally nearing their end.

The Undone One quickly learned that most mages were carrying too much stuff when it came to travelling. He came to the harbor almost every afternoon and saw countless decaying scrolls and half-burned books, figurines of wood and stone, luxurious chairs and even marble statues of human in real size being loaded onto the ships. It was funny and somewhat annoying to watch at the same time. Most mages, though not as bad as Ehrir thought them to be previously, were a bunch of arrogant bastards. That much could be said by him without doubts.

“Which ship you’ll be travelling with?” asked Lantor unexpectedly and curiously.

It took some time for the Undone One to find Sevrian’s galley amongst the tens of piers in the harbor. Then he pointed at it indifferently.

“Oh… it’s big. And good looking, too. I will myself sail in…” Lantor stopped his blabber for a second. “Did you return the book to Ahor? I saw him yesterday and he looked quite worried. I didn’t get the chance to talk to him, though.”

“I gave the tome to him in the beginning of the week… Not every misfortune happening to people has something to do with me.”

“It sure doesn’t.” Lantor giggled cheerfully. “So… Did you think up of the name for the sword?”

“Damn it!” Ehrir threw an angry glance at the man besides him. “Why do you have to…” he inhaled loudly. “You know what? Fine. From now it shall be called… It shall be called…”

Well, he hadn’t thought about that. It took him some time to search his memory for good sounding term, preferably from some ancient legend. And in Emhaelic on top of it.

“Osvaar Libaen-а”, he said in the end. “The frigid blade.”

A glimmer appeared in Lantor’s eyes.

“That sounds so damned cool.”

“Yeah. And every stranger I meet will probably laugh at me if I tell him or her that I gave my sword a name, let alone one like this.”

“But they wouldn’t understand. I, on the other hand… Hell, I had a blacksmith in the family, I’m almost an expert in such things.”

“Yes, yes, if you say so…”

The two of them engaged in this kind of meaningless chatter until night – always coming earlier and earlier in the last weeks – fell. The sailing was planned to begin the next morning.

***

“They’re looking at him like he’s some kinda god!” exclaimed Nalia. “Do ya’ think…”

“Please, sis, shut up. You’re making him look even more fabulous. His self-esteem will just rise more if he hears you”, interrupted Varhel in a low tone. “Not that there is a chance for that to happen, though”, he added a bit louder.

The three disciples of Sevrian were slowly following their master who was a few steps ahead. The streets of Ale Bay were cluttered with mages and apprentices of all kinds, not to mention the commoners who were trying to catch a glance at Ostrias at all cost. The Ashen Gaze was moving in the head of the wizards’ procession with a confident look and a wide smile. He was wearing his best coat, covered in so much shiny silvery ornaments that the bright blue silk underneath was hardly visible at all. His hair was carefully combed backwards and his face was cleared from any kind of facial hair. That made Ehrir scratch his chin – he had completely shaved his beard back in the first days at Nalevas, but a full month had passed since then and it had returned for a second round. When it came to it… He had to shorten his hair too – it had almost reached the middle of his back and was messy and unbraided. It was like he had an animal’s mane upon his head.

“Quite uncomfortable…” he mumbled in a half-whisper.

“What exactly? I don’t want to be mean, but… I’m the one who spends most of the time in an uncomfortable chair.” A cheerful voice sounded besides him.

Well, Nalia definitely had heard Ehrir’s quiet complaints.

“It’s nothing…” answered the Undone One.

“Yeah, right.”

The three of them walked in silence until reaching the harbor. There the procession suddenly stopped. It was by Ostrias’ command, of course – nobody else in the whole Archipelago of Claws had the power to order around more than seventy sorcerers and their apprentices.

“Can you focus your attention on me, please?” the Ashen Gaze’s voice boomed, empowered by magic and ringing like a bell. Every talk in the whole city probably stopped in the second those words were uttered.

“I guess not all of you can see me right now, so let me… rise a little bit.” Ehrir could almost feel Ostrias’ smile. And then he saw him slowly levitating further and further above the crowd, causing a wave of screams, gasps and even fainting amongst the common folk. The Undone One couldn’t blame them – it was quite a mesmerizing and unique scene to behold. It was probably a simple mix of Creation and Manipulation that just required a lot of energy, but still… It made his jaw drop for a moment.

Once risen at about thirty feet from the ground, the Ashen Gaze started talking in a slow and cheery manner.

“You’re quite a sight from here, you know that?" he giggled. The laughter could most likely be heard from the opposite end of Nalevas. "Well, I'll try to be as quick as possible. My visit here was rather short, but be sure that I won't forget it. Your city certainly has a unique kind of charm that is simply unforgettable. Your mansion is awesome too." He stopped for a second. "When it comes to this... The building shall be returned to its former owner, which I believe is currently residing in one of the inns around here. Man, I don't know your name, but I'm grateful that you let me borrow your house so... willingly. I know it's probably tough to give your manor - and your power as a mayor, for that matter - to a complete stranger and I'm thankful for your trust in me. I've left a small present for you back in the mansion. As for the remainer of you... You've been very kind towards me and my people. You have my sincere thanks for this. Now take care."

After these words Ostrias lowered himself down and began advancing towards his own vessel. The ship was not the biggest amongst those bearing his sign, but it definitely looked like the most luxurious and well-crafted one. It was painted in red and yellow with the top of the bow shaped in the form of a naked mermaid. The wooden figure was more beautiful than many women that Ehrir had seen during his life, although there were almost no nude ones in his experiences.

Sevrian and his apprentices got on the galley quickly. Most ships were ready to set sail at this point and waited for the Ashen Gaze's signal. When his vessel - the name "Muse of the Waves" was written on its side in bold golden paint - made its move, it was instantly followed by the rest of the fleet.

"Master... What are we gonna do for all this time until we reach the south coast?", asked Nalia.

Sevrian shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know about you , but I have to teach our friend Ehrir the language of the south folk."

The Undone One frowned. He'd forgotten about that. Emhaelic was already enough of a pain, and now this...

"Well, I guess it has to be done", he said after a deep sigh. "Let's get done with it quicker."