Brother Mender turned to a nearby monk who was carrying an armful of sabers to a crate, and said “Brother Gentle Wave, please inform the Abbot that there is a Sister of the Faith here to request shelter for the night. Do let him know about her… special associate here too.”

Brother Gentle Wave grinned and nodded. “Sure Brother Mender!”, he said, as he dumped his load of sabers into the crate, and immediately began running towards the other end of the courtyard, and presumably, the Abbot’s quarters.

“Sister Trip, I apologise, but we do not have any stables in which to quarter your horse. I’m afraid that horses are beyond rare in these parts. Perhaps --”

“That’s alright. White Dragon can stay here. He won’t get in your way.”

White Dragon nodded and walked to a spot beside the wooden wall, nearest to the sheds. He faced the sheds, but did not move any further.

Brother Mender stared at White Dragon. “... Sister Trip, that is one intelligent horse you have right there! Obviously, he understands human speech! I have so many questions! Was he trained or born this intelligent? Are there any other horses like him? Would any foals sired by him have his intelligence?”

“He was like this when I found him. He’s one of a kind. As for siring any foals, you’ll have to ask him.”

White Dragon looked at Trip, bowed his head, and winked.

Brother Mender looked as though he really was going to go ask White Dragon some questions. Trip reminded him “Brother Mender, let’s go see the Abbot.”

“Of course! I beg your pardon, I do tend to let curiosity get the best of me. Please follow me!”

Trip and Wukong walked behind Brother Mender, as he headed for the other end of the courtyard. When he reached the stairs leading to the highest plateau, Brother Mender paused and leaned against the wooden banister as he turned halfway around and started giving them a verbal tour.

“The stairs to our left lead to the living quarters, warehouses, storage rooms, and our libraries. The stairs to our right lead to our workshops, training rooms, and our trading area --”

“Oho! What a nice quarterstaff!” Wukong exclaimed in delight as he ran towards the next landing area.

Trip scanned the area, but did not see anything resembling a quarterstaff. Other than the landing area and steps carved into the mountain rock, there was a section of the banister that was metal instead of wood…

… which was what Wukong laid his hand on. As easily as one would lift a cup, Wukong lifted up the thick metal rod that formed the top of the banister, and started twirling it around while passing it from one hand to the other. Although it was a little thicker than the wooden quarterstaff that Wukong had, it was more or less the same length. It looked like it was made of a dark grey metal that gave off an impression of denseness.

“Ah! It’s still light, but much better than a wooden one! Hey, Monk Mender, I’ll be taking this --”

“Wukong! Don’t go around snatching other people’s property! Are you a bandit?”

“It’s alright! It’s totally alright! In fact, you’d be doing me a favour if you replaced that metal rod with the wooden quarterstaff you have. I was just using it as a placeholder until proper repairs could be done.”

“Is it really alright, Brother Mender? Wood for metal does not seem like an equal exchange.”

“It is, if you’re doing me a favour by taking away that metal rod. It’s been an eyesore to me for many years, but I could never just throw it away. Giving it to you as a gift, however, is perfectly justifiable.” Brother Mender grinned widely, until his eyes had narrowed into thin crescents.

“Eyesore?”

“Er…” Brother Mender pinched his chin as he pursed his lips inwards. Then, with a sigh, he said. “It started out as an accident. I was trying to create a new metal alloy, when one of the apprentice monks tripped and dropped some unknown metal samples into the furnace. It’s been many years since then, but I’m still unable to replicate it. It’d be so great if I could… just imagine it! A tougher, harder metal that somehow bends before it breaks, making steel look as brittle as a stone tile.” By this point, Brother Mender seemed to be fully immersed in his dreamy imaginings, seemingly staring at a far off future where he was happily sweating in the foundry, creating the metal of his fantasies.

“Hey, Monk Mender!” Wukong snapped his fingers in front of Brother Mender’s face.

“Eh? Oh, my apologies --”

“Here, your payment!” said Wukong, as he held up Brother Mender’s palm, then slapped his wooden quarterstaff into it.

As Brother Mender busied himself tying the wooden quarterstaff to the rest of the banister with some string that he pulled out from inside his tunic, Trip watched Wukong grinning as he played around with his new metal toy, twirling and spinning it about as he passed it from one hand to another. White teeth flashed in the light as his dark gray face, framed with black gold-tipped fur, turned together with his body. He seemed especially pleased with himself, which was not only expressed through his wide grin and exclamations of “Haha!” and “Ooo! Ooo!”, but through his entire body and even his tail, which was curling and uncurling repeatedly. It was like watching a fluffy puppy play with the most fun chewy bone in the entire universe.

Seemingly infected by Wukong’s joy, the corner of Trip’s mouth quirked up in a tiny, lopsided smile. Her eyes crinkled at the sides, as, for just a moment, she lost the look of an eagle on the hunt. For just a moment, she looked like a young girl, at ease and innocent, enjoying the simple pleasure of observing the joy of another.

Trip opened her mouth, and was about to say something, when she caught a flash of something from the corner of her eye. Turning to her right, she saw two monks carrying a closed crate up the flight of stairs. A red symbol was on the lid of the crate, that of a “0” with two horns. It was the symbol of the Crimson Bull.

As though she had never even been one, the young girl was gone. In her place, was a seasoned hunter. Wary and on the alert for the slightest sign of danger.

Black Hat Trip was back.

-- Chapter 11, End --

Omake 1:-

“Ah! It’s still light, but much better than a wooden one! Hey, Monk Mender, I’ll be taking this!” said Wukong, as he carelessly threw his wooden quarterstaff away.

Unfortunately, he must have forgotten how light it was, because it sailed high through the air, in the direction of where Brother Mender said the living quarters were. It was so high, that it seemed like a small baton at this distance, celebrating its release from incarceration, being wedged down the back of Wukong’s tiger-skin kilt.

A split second after Wukong threw the wooden quarterstaff, Trip’s arm blurred, then froze, revolver in hand, arm stretched straight out towards the now falling quarterstaff. She waited another second for the quarterstaff to fall even further downwards, then she fired, waited, then fired again. She repeated this until she made four shots.

In the distance, the quarterstaff had broken into five pieces. For a moment after each shot, the main body of the quarterstaff and the newly broken off piece seemed as though they were floating motionless in the air, before resuming their fall. Thankfully, the downward momentum from the fall had been partially dissipated by the gunshots, and the individual pieces were light enough that, even if they landed on someone’s head, the worst that would result was a bruise.

Trip’s mouth was set into a tight, severe line as she reloaded her revolver. Her eyes were glaring balefully at Wukong, but her tone, like her lips, was tight and controlled.

“Wukong, what if your quarterstaff had hit someone and killed them?”

“Er… oops?” Wukong hunched his shoulders as he made puppy eyes at Trip.

“Don’t give me that! Just don’t do it again.”

Omake 2:-

As the broken wooden quarterstaff fell towards the ground, it thought “Not having to be anywhere near that monkey’s behind anymore… this is totally worth it!”