Esterian woke up to a bright morning. He fumbled around for a bit, and finally managed to get out of his bed covers. His mother had left the curtains open in his room. The sunlight sort of glided in. The rays illuminated the dust that hung in the air. Esterian’s mother would not be pleased. He got up from bed, and stepped over to the bathroom. He was well into 18 now, but still couldn’t get his beard to grow any longer than an inch. I wonder what father looked like at my age, he thought to himself. He got cleaned up and headed downstairs. His mother was waiting for him, as usual, in the kitchen.

“Good morning dear!” She hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Tousled his hair, and busied herself getting breakfast ready

“Good morning mother” Esterian slouched into a stool near the table. He still wasn’t fully awake, everything was blurred and his mother’s voice sounded unnecessarily loud.

“I need you to go into town today. Your clothes are falling to pieces. Take some of the tomatoes, sell them, and buy some clothes for yourself. If there’s anything left over, get something nice” She placed a plate in front of him. The green lettuce and red tomatoes brightened up the white china.

Esterian started munching away. The fresh lettuce crackled as he bit into it. The tomatoes were juicy. As he bit into one, a bit of the juice leaked out of the corners of his mouth, and into his shirt. His only white shirt. A stain was forming on his collar. Esterian looked at his mother. She was too busy cleaning the dished to notice. Esterian turned towards the door silently, got up and at the doorway, said,

“I need to go get dressed. I’ll leave as soon as I’m ready” And without another word, or waiting for his mothers reply, he raced up the stairs, stuffed the soiled shirt as far into his clothes pile as he could, and picked up the shirt that lay on top. It was blue, his favorite colour.

He made his way back downstairs, kissed his mother on the forehead and picked up the bag of fresh tomatoes his mother had left on the table. He closed the front door behind him as he stepped out. The air was cool. The perpetually grey sky made sure that days were never hot, but they were usually warm. Today, the day was cool, the sky had lost its morning brightness and had dulled considerably. Maybe rains were on the way, thought Esterian as he buttoned up his shirt fully. He stepped onto the road, the pebbles already poking him through his soles. That was something else he needed, new shoes. Surely the cobbler in town would help him with that.

The town was easily an hour’s walk away. Esterian loved to walk, but not walk to something. There was always a feeling of compulsion when one’s journey had a destination. In the evenings, when he would just walk outside, it was all about the walk, never about the where. Esterian hated it when he had to go somewhere. It detracted from the joy of just enjoying the breeze, and the smells and the sights that were all around. Instead, thoughts of the task to be performed, the errands to be run would always dominate his mind. As was the case today. He tried to clear his mind, but he couldn’t. It was full of thoughts of how much he could sell the tomatoes for, and how much shoes would cost him. He set his shoulders, and walked on.

Esterian hummed to himself as he walked on the road. It was muddy, and could barely be called a road, but it was the only clear cut way to town. On either side of the road were meadows, where crops alien to Esterian stood proud and tall. He had never seen them harvested. Maybe the land owner had passed away. Every few meters, in the distance he could see trees. Their green muted in the dull light, and even further behind them were mountains. They were tall, so tall the peaks were well into the cloud line, but if Esterian tried at it, he could see the peaks. The road itself terminated at the town. It just led there and stopped. Of course, calling a group of houses and a few shops a town might be overly generous, but it was called the town nevertheless. The road Esterian walked on was the least used of all. No travelers ever passed by his house, and along the way, there were solitary houses, but most were abandoned. His mother had forbidden him from walking the road towards the other side. He didn’t really know why, but the vehemence in her voice as she had forbade him overcame even his most rebellious of moods.

Esterian had walked for about half an hour. It lay nestled between two hills, one of which Esterian was now at the top of. He looked down at the town. The houses were laid out roughly around a central open space. That space was covered with brightly colored stalls, selling everything from produce to clothes. Three hundred people lived in the town. There wasn’t any other name for it, other than the ‘town’. No one who lived there, ever expected to leave for a long time, and travelers would only pass through, staying at the inn for a few days. There was nothing in ‘the town’ for it to warrant a name. Surrounding the town were the ruins that dotted the countryside. A few pillars were still standing, a few poles still stood erect, but whatever building there were had been gutted. Everything useful taken and the barren husks left to face the elements. Creepers and moss had claimed the vast majority of them, giving the impression of small green hills surrounding the ‘town’ in the middle. Some mayor had once taken offence at the ‘town’s lack of a name and tried naming it after his wife. Esterian could still remember the laughter from the innkeeper who had told him the story the last time he had come.

“Well this ‘ere mayor. Name of Jifar. A snort of a name, for a snort of a man, I always thought.” A loud guffaw followed that.

“I think we were all drunk but somehow, he got himself elected to mayor.” He took a sip of his beer, Esterian, of his apple juice.

“Well anyway, first thing he does, is call a meeting of all the townsfolk. Tells them he’s got a wee problem. He don’t think it’s right the town don’t have a name. So he says to them, in his little squeak of a voice, that he’s gonna name it after his wife, Celicy. Think o’ that, our place, called bloody Cecily.” Another snort of laughter. The innkeeper spilled a bit of his beer. He wiped it absently with his cloth, and after he’d gotten his breath, he continued

“So me and my boys. We’d all sobered by then , and his voice was starting to get on our nerves. So we walked up to him, bonked him on the head, and tied him up. We took him behind the inn, and beat him up for a bit. After the third broken rib, he kinda got the idea. The next day, with a black eye and a big white bandage around him, he goes back in front o’ everyone and says he be retiring as mayor, to spend more time with his wife, And the name Cecily was too pretty for the town.” The innkeeper was laughing so loud, he was shaking. A few of the inn regulars who had either heard of the story, or were one of the ‘boys’ joined in and soon everyone was laughing.

“We saw his wife. You couldn’t pay me to marry that hag” Another round of guffaws. Esterian had left soon after. His drink free.

So it was just the town. A small inconsequential dot somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Esterian reached the gate. Three roads met at this gate, so it was the busier of the gates. The guard looked at him, recognized him and let him in. That was another thing funny about the town. There were eight guards in the town. Who doubled as policemen, firemen, heavy lifters, and general all purpose people. They wore the only guns in the whole town, at their waists. They looked sleek and black. Weapons were rare, but ever rarer was the need for them, so no one really carried weapons of any kind. These guns were mostly for show. The townsfolk were gentle for the most part, and a few hits on the head with a log were usually enough to control even the worst drunk. These guns were to impress the travelers who showed up every once in a while. No one knew where the guns were from, or if they even worked. Bullets were a premium, so no one had ever bothered shooting one. They were mainly a deterrent. And it worked. Just the sight of the black ‘deathwand’ as some of youngsters called it, was enough to make anyone think twice of doing something they shouldn’t.

The guard saw him looking at his gun. He self consciously touched it, turned to him, and motioned for him to keep moving. Esterian hefted the bag of tomatoes and walked on into town. There were two main roads in town that lead to the central area. They were prime areas, and as such were neater than most of the other places. The houses that lined these roads were crammed close to each other. They all looked the same to Esterian, two-storied, with white paint, wooden highlights showing through, and two windows, as eyes in the upper storey. The door would be on the other side. A curious custom, one Esterian really didn’t understand, but only shops opened onto the main road. He saw a few of those, a jeweler, and a cobbler. He made a note of where that was. He would need to visit.

Esterian reached the central marketplace. It was loud. The open area seems to make the sounds louder. As he had walked towards the market, he had barely heard it, but now it was so loud he could barely hear himself think. He stepped forward, and looked around him. There were almost as many vendors as there were shoppers. The one nearest to him on the left was selling vegetables. Esterian felt a thrill of pride when he saw that his tomatoes were far better than the ones that man was selling. He looked up into the vendors face. It was old, and lined. Unshaven, with beady eyes

“Want something?” he drawled

“No thanks, I’m selling today” Esterian watched as hostility entered the man’s eyes. Competition, was not appreciated.

“What you be selling?” The man’s eyes had narrowed, and his voice was more purposeful.

“I’ve got some fresh tomatoes, picked only today morning” Esterian reached into his bag and lifted one out. Handed it over to the man. The man held it in one hand. Pressed it lightly. His eyes narrowed even more when he saw just how firm it was. His own were shriveled. He had no hope of selling any at all, if these were being sold nearby. He handed the tomato back to Esterian, and said,

“I’ll give you 15 pieces for the lot”. He tried to appear aloof, disinterested.

Esterian laughed out loud. The man thought he was a child. Esterian had been selling vegetables in the market for years, and he knew each one would fetch 10 pieces each. He looked at the man, and said

“You must think I’m stupid. I could get 15 pieces for each one. You must be desperate to sell those pathetic excuses for tomatoes you have.” Esterian laughed again.

The man’s eyes widened in surprise. His fist tightened.

“You mock me boy?” He shouted. He reached from behind the counter and took hold of Esterian’s shirt collar. People nearby were starting to look towards them. People were slowing. The nearby stall vendors were slowly making their way over to them.

The man stepped out from behind the counter, and still holding Esterian’s collar, swung his right fist Esterian was holding his bag in his left hand, leaving his right free. But there was no time. He hadn’t expected a blow. Verbal abuse was a part of selling things in the market, but physical violence was new. He tensed, and closed his eyes in reflex. Suddenly though, he felt the blade rise within him. He opened his eyes, and he could see the fist coming at his face. But it was moving absurdly slowly. He put up his hand to block the blow. He had more than enough time. He could even have dodged the attack all together, but instead, he placed his open palm in the way, and tensed his hand. Again, he felt the blade permeate his hand and it felt solider than it should have. The world sped up again. There was a sickening crunch as the man’s hand slammed into Esterian’s palm. He didn’t feel anything, but the man’s fist was shattered. He could see the broken bones poking out from the skin. His hand was a bloody mess. Esterian was as surprised as the onlookers. The man collapsed on the ground.

Esterian put down his hand, and tried to help the man up, apologizing as he did. The man pulled himself up, shot a look of pure venom at Esterian, which was quickly replaced by a spasm of pain. Cradling his hand, he ran from the market, muttering to himself, his wares forgotten. The people around took one last look at Esterian before they separated. Esterian took a position behind the now unused counter, cleaned it and set up his tomatoes. He settled back into his chair, and waited.

It was later. Well into the day by the time Esterian had sold all his tomatoes. He counted up the money in his pocket. 150 pieces. Not too bad a collection. He should be able to get two shirts and a pair of shoes for that. Clothes were never expensive. Everyone had a few they had grown out of, that weren’t in tatters, and shoes could be made out of the leftover scraps. He folded up his bag carefully, and slipped it into his pocket. His pants were fine. They were still wearable. The sun was at its highest, and the day was almost as bright as the morning had been. Esterian wasn’t expected home till evening, so he had the whole day to himself. He started walking around the market.

Everyone was trying to catch his eye. All the produce had been sold, so most of the stalls were empty. Only the clothing stalls were still open. The crowd had gradually gotten smaller and smaller, till there was barely a crowd at all. A few people wandered around, some wide-eyed like Esterian, others narrow eyed, looking for a bargain, and still more just wandering around to fill their day.

Esterian approached a stall selling clothes. The shirts on display seemed to be his size. He looked at them more closely and saw that they were in decent shape. But definitely better than the ones he had on. He looked at the seller. A bored middle aged woman. With a wide face and graying hair, she was definitely not the prettiest sight in the world. Esterian looked at her and asked her,

“How much for the red shirt?” indicating with his finger

The woman made a show of looking around for the shirt Esterian was indicating, even though there was only one red shirt. She looked at it, appraising it and looked at them, trying to judge how much money he had. If she quoted too high a price, she would lose a customer. Too cheap, and her husband would not be happy. She settled for a middle figure.

“50 pieces. And if you want one more, I’ll give ya both for 90 pieces”

Slightly expensive, but nothing exorbitant, thought Esterian as he handed over the money. He picked out another green shirt, to go with his red one. The green one had some faded logo in front. It seemed much older than the red, but was in comparable shape. The logo read Bra-L something. He couldn’t make it out. There was a blue circle, and a faded yellow in the logo. Some long forgotten thing, he thought to himself. He smiled at the woman, who did not return it and turned away.

Esterian needed new shoes. He remembered where the cobblers shop was, so he headed there. It took him a few minutes, but soon he was inside the shop. The cobbler was an old man. White thinning hair, with spectacles perched precariously on long thin nose. He had blue eyes, that should have sparkled, but instead there was a resigned look to him. His eyes, and his shoulders. He looked up when Esterian entered, and there was a flash in his eyes, of recognition perhaps, but a shake of his head seemed to dismiss whatever thought had entered his mind.

“So what can I do for you?” He asked wryly.

“I’d like some shoes made please” Esterian replied, taking off his and holding them up. Light shone through the holes in them.

The old man chuckled to himself, and went away, returning with some leather and a tape. He busied himself measuring Esterian’s feet, humming to himself as he did. He made notes on the leather with a chalk, and after a few more measurements, started cutting it. As he cut, he asked,

“So boy, what brings you to the town?”

“I needed some clothes, so I sold some of my mother’s tomatoes. And now I thought I’d look around. It’s been a while since I was here.” The man looked at him closely for a second before he returned to cutting. After cutting the leather, the cobbler took a long needle, some thread and started piecing the shoes together. Once that was done, he handed them over to Esterian, and told him to try them on. They fitted perfectly. Esterian said as much, and asked how much he owed.

“Just give me your old shoes, and spend some time humoring an old man, and we’ll call it even boy”

Esterian was surprised, but he nodded and sat back down. The man was looking closely at Esterian, making him very self conscious. Finally he asked,

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Esterian, sir. And what’s yours, If I may ask?” Esterian’s mother had drilled manners into him.

“The all call me Colt, so I guess that’ll have to do. Where do you live, Esterian?”

“If you walk down the west road, for an hour or so, you’ll get to my house. It’s just me and mother. My father died a long time ago.” Esterian stopped speaking. There was something about this old man that made him want to open up and talk about his life. He wanted to tell him about his father’s death, and the blade within him. Something he didn’t even want to tell his mother. He looked around, trying to find something to change the topic too. His eyes settled on what were the most extravagant shoes he had ever seen. White, with what seemed to be a solid sole, and strings on the front. A black logo, almost like a large tick mark. Esterian had never seen shoes like that. The cobbler followed Esterian’s gaze, to the shoes.

“Ah yes. My most prized possession. I found those on the side of the road a long time ago. They were brand new then, must be nearly 50 years ago. I’ve never tried them on.”

“Did you… I mean, can you make shoes like that?” Esterian asked, unable to tear his eyes away.

“No. The materials and the tools needed for that are long gone. Those shoes were made before the Reckoning. And will never be made again.”

The Reckoning. There was something ominous about that word. Esterian remembered hearing it a long time ago. From his mother he thought. He had never asked her about it. He turned back to the cobbler, who seemed lost in memory as well.

“What that? I’ve heard people mention it before, but no one ever explained it to me”

The cobblers face was incredulous. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked closely at Esterian, to judge if he really didn’t know what the Reckoning was, or if he was just trying to pull his leg. Esterian’s confused look cleared all suspicions. The old man took of his spectacles, ran a weary hand over his face. He put his spectacles back on and turned to Esterian.

“Well. I never expected to meet someone who doesn’t know about the Reckoning. Your mother should have told you about it, but if she thought not to, it’s not my place to say anything.” He held up a hand, to stop the protests that were just starting to pour from Esterian’s mouth.

“It happened 50 years ago. And we’re still paying for it. Now I think you should leave, my father has more customers.” A voice said from behind them. Esterian turned around to see a middle aged lady, not too unlike the woman he’d met earlier in the market, standing with her arms crossed and a wary look on her face.

Esterian looked around the shop, there wasn’t anyone else there. He looked back to the lady, who made a motion with her head, whose meaning was quite clear. Esterian thanked the old man, inclined his head once in the direction of the lady and left the store, in his new shoes. He still had some money left over, and some time left to waste. He headed down the lane, back to the market. He thought to pick something up for his mother. He wandered around the market, looking for nothing in particular. The third stall he looked at had something. A delicate silver bracelet, with a bright green stone set in it. Green was his mother’s favorite colour. He felt like he had seen it somewhere before. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He asked the vendor,

“How much for that bracelet?”

“80 pieces.” Came the reply, in a high pitched squeak of a voice.

Esterian looked up, into the face of a middle aged man. The face seemed misshapen, as if he’d been hit a few times and broken something.

“I’ve only got 50 pieces.” Lied Esterian, taking most the money out of his pocket, leaving 10 pieces. Sometimes, when confronted with the sight of coins, sellers might drop their price. At least Esterian hoped that was the case.

The man looked at the money in Esterian’s hands then at Esterian himself, and said,

“Fine. Take it. May it bring more to whoever it’s for than it did to my dear Cecily.” The man’s voice trailed off towards the end, and tears formed in his eyes.

Esterian faked a cough to hide his laughter as he realized who this was. He quickly handed the coins over and turned away. When he was sure he was far enough away, he burst out laughing; remembering that day in the inn when he’d heard the story of Cecily and Jifar. He felt guilty. The man had just lost his wife, and here he was laughing about it. But thoughts of the inn reminded Esterian just how hungry he was. He knew where it was, so he set off to find it.