I wasn't going to be so reckless this time. I sat in the wagon alone as I held my father's sword and listened to its quiet call once again. As soon as I acknowledged its song my voice was accepted back into the tavern shanty. I witnessed the familiar events play out as I sang: The small flamberge grew while deftly dodging the swipes of yellow orbs until the red one appeared. My father's sword cut a swathe through a horde of yellows before refusing to cut one in particular. I had come further than I had realised, I used to be on the verge of blacking out by this point but I still felt fine.

Something was strange though, no matter how long I continued singing the visions didn't continue. The scene simply ended where I had passed out previously. This couldn't be it. Out of desperation, I started to experiment. I tried changing the tune I was singing, I sped up a little, slowed down, and sang offbeat but any deviation from the original song made my visions fade. The tune is locked in, it somewhat made sense to me, the head priest said it was like the music of his soul. Of course, I couldn't change the music and if I could, it would open all sorts of uncomfortable questions.

The melody was something I couldn't influence but what about the pitch? It was slightly more comfortable for me to sing a little lower, so I started slowly deepening my voice. This time there was no change, the visions didn't fade as my pitch changed but nothing new happened either. When I reached the lowest note I could muster I thought I'd try the opposite next. I sang higher and I felt a new sensation for the first time. My voice wouldn't go any higher, not couldn't, wouldn't. I knew that I could sing a lighter note but it was like an invisible force was pressing down on the inside of my throat. I exercised my will and struggled to push past the barrier but it seemed no amount of effort helped. My breath and stamina were running out so I had to finish for now.

I stopped singing in the boisterous tavern shanty and I could breathe normally. I didn't know what was holding me back but I had a new lead, there was potential in this discovery. Tending was physically and mentally exhausting so it would be a while before I could experiment some more. I stopped well before the point of passing out this time but I still felt like sleeping off the fatigue. I knew one thing for certain, it was much easier to tend my father's flamberge than the head priest's dirk. I had a couple of theories why: Maybe it was easier to tend for the dead, maybe it was an issue of people's strength, maybe it was because of blood relation, along with many other maybes.

I needed to find a way to tend for more people so I could have some reference points. The big problem was how to go about such a task without drawing too much attention. We had a long journey ahead to reach the next duchy, I would have plenty of time to think on the way.

I waited for what felt like an age but Hann and the cryptic thing were still nowhere in sight. I was itching to chase after them but what would I do when I got there? For all of the time I spent thinking I was too rash. I always wanted to know everything so badly that I never stopped to think about why, or what would I gain. What did I gain from following my mother those years ago? Trauma and a bounty of ignored knowledge. What did I gain from pushing myself too hard while tending the first time? I almost died. What did I gain from insisting that I could handle the slums? A shattered worldview. I needed to spend more time thinking about what the expected or wanted outcome of my curiosity was. I needed to think further ahead.

More than just wanting to know, what were my goals? What did I want from improving my blade tending? The knowledge I would need to make a career off of my gift. What did I want from the Karkarin path? The power to take control of my life. What did I want from helping the people of the slums? To be true to my beliefs and to help those that were deemed useless. What did I want from killing the Collector and Jon? Revenge for myself and justice for the helpless victims. No one else would punish them for their cruelty, I wanted to know that the world wasn't as bleak as it seemed.

But what would I gain from following Hann right now? Nothing but the knowledge of a deal that may or may not be useful to know. I didn't stand to gain anything as it was, I would probably just lose Hann's trust. Unless I could justify an action with more than 'I wanted to' I should try to avoid it. As much as it burned me up inside I decided to stay put. I pulled out a book on noble lineages from the pile and lost myself in its pages to pass the time.

The book was quite interesting which made me all the more irritated that I let it gather dust under my bed for so long. I vaguely knew about the nobility but my knowledge was bare before now. Each duchy was run by a noble House that pledged an oath of service to the king when the kingdom was founded. Those born of the union of a House noble and a commoner were considered lesser nobles. No matter how thin your privileged blood ran you were still considered a member of lesser nobility giving rise to a great many lesser houses and honorary titles. All who shared in the special bloodlines were treated equally. At least in theory.

I saw how the green robes were treated in Fleur, some of them were minor nobles and they were treated with the same disdain as the common merchants who shared their green robes. Reading the book gave me a new perspective, it wasn't one that I agreed with. Maybe the reason why most people were okay with living in the darkness of the dwell was that the slums existed. Even if you were on the lowest rung of the ladder at least you weren't the dirt below. Did everyone just accept the slums because it showed how much worse off they could be?

The King.

House nobility.

The Flying Swords.

Elite knights.

Lesser House nobility and knights.

House servants.

Lesser House servants.

Guards.

Commoners.

Peasants.

Blade tenders.

Bladeless.

Even among the major titles in the hierarchy, there were smaller scale tiers of power and specific titles: Earl, Lord, Count, Viscount. There were a few ways to rise places in the hierarchy like marriage to any member of nobility or exceptional talent. Technically a peasant could rise to the flying swords and skip to near the top but for most where they were born is where they died.

This wasn't right. I wasn't the only one who could see it either. The head priest and likely many others had seen how unfair the world was and did their best to combat it but it was a losing battle. At the time I couldn't understand his choice of acceptance but I had a better idea now. To suggest that the hierarchy of the kingdom is flawed was a treasonous thought since each noble family was chosen by the first King himself. When an entire forest was rotten all one person could do was cultivate the land in reach.

I hated the slums. I hated the dwell. I hated my weakness. I hated the untouchable elite. I still refused to accept the way things were but without a plan to change it they were just words. I would cultivate my insignificant part of the forest until it grew bountiful. I would struggle through the thorns and weeds. I vowed that if by some miracle I ended up in a position to change things, even on a small scale, I would.

My current goal, my realistic goal, was to secure a humble living with my own two hands and to extend a hand to any in reach. Step one: cultivate my strength and tending skills.