Chapter fourteen

“ Um, where are we going? ” Arin asked as he dug deeper into the robes and turban he as wearing. The youth in front of him was a flaming torch in the midst of the enveloping night. As much as Arin had wanted to be low key as possible, this guy attracted double the attention.

Perhaps it was his outgoing and honest character that fit in well with the people, literally every third person would greet him or recognize him as the walked down the street.

At first Arin had though that it was the abnormal color of his hair that attracted the attention even though he had made sure to cover it. Even in the desert capital that was mishmash of all kinds of people, newcomers often stared at him. However it was this guy, Avrak.

The young and old, all kinds of people were acquainted with him.

“ Ah, son how are you doing” “ thanks grandma”

“ Hey Avrak come back later, I just got some fresh milk to drink.”

“ Don’t go back on your words uncle.”

“ I already said that your swords doesn’t suit you,” Avrak said cheerfully as he led Arin through the streets of Samra “ we need to get you a proper sword.”

Arin saw Avrak swing his long sword casually an thought ‘ if this guy knew how much gold I spent to get that sword he’ll probably faint’

Nevertheless Arin followed him, perhaps he would be able to improve himself but at least he was able to see the village a bit more.

Actually Arin was mildly surprised when he saw the people walking through the streets.

In his two months of traveling, Arin had often encountered situations were he could not find an inn to spend the night in the village. It was because as Arin learnt, in order to adjust to the extreme desert life, many tribes had become nomadic.

They moved around the land frequently, seeking pasture and fertile lands over the seasons. This resulted in having two types of settlements in a village. The first were the ones who stayed in a village permanently and held roles in governing such as the chief or warriors or craftsman, they lived in houses made of mud walls. The second were nomadic tribes that settled around the village in tents and were often hunters, shepherds or merchants.

However Samra had a population that easily exceeded 2000 people that created a hustle bustle environment. Arin was sure that if this village proceeded to develop at this rate, they would be able to match the big shot villages the likes of Taizzane and Dhafji.

Finally they arrived at the marketplace as stalls and shops came into their view. It was filled with voices of vendors advertising their products and the small crowds of people.

Navigating through the crowd, Avrak brought Arin to a small empty shop in the corner of the market. In front of the shop sat an old man that seemed to be dozing off as his snores where easily heard.

“ Where is this? ” Arin looked confused. It was common knowledge that swords were obtained at a blacksmiths shop. However this shop did not have any crafted work on display that usually allowed the customer to ascertain the skills of the blacksmith.

“ Hey wake up” Avrak approached the old man.

“ Go away, the shop is not open” The old man spoke in a coarse voice as he shifted over to find a comfortable posture to doze off.

‘ Not open’ Arin thought ‘ this was the peak hour, when else would the shop open. This shop owner was a real eccentric.’

“ Not even for your favorite grand son in law” Avrak probed on.

‘ Arghm’ the old man choked a little as his sleep was disturbed.

Taysa al Ahram was an expert blacksmith that was stuck with an annoying weirdo. A few years ago his family had lost their youngest grand daughter in a journey. They had been devastated but fortunately it was this youth that had found her and brought her back.

As a show of gratitude he had betrothed her to him. Originally Avrak had refused but once he knew about her grandfathers skills he stuck to him like moss.

In short, having grown up in a family of warriors, the kid was obsessed with blades. He continuously pestered him to make him a sword’s (T.A; somehow always broke them)

He had long since retired from his post and now enjoyed the comforts of his extended family. Even this shop currently was really just a place he used to catch some sleep all the crafts he made now were made on special orders. Just a few days ago he refused the head of warriors.

‘ Ah, why can’t that silly girl get over this lunatic? ’

The old blacksmith let out a heavy sigh and slowly walked into his shop “ Don’t tell me you already broke the sword I gave you last time? ”

“ Hehe no no, I actually want you to see if you can make sword for this guy,” Giving a sheepish smile Avrak turned to Arin who had followed behind him quietly.

“Oh.” Old Taysa raised his eyebrows curiously. Many continuously tried to get him to craft weapons for them through this lad but very little actually succeeded. In a way Avrak’s talent of swordsmanship fitted perfectly with his skills, The kid had a way of sensing unique individuals that were worthy enough for him to craft swords for them.

However Arin did not respond. Avrak turned around to see Arin’s gaze fixed on a certain object. It was a sword hidden under a leather sheath that was hung on the wall.

“ That, that.” Arin stuttered as he focused on the sword. Suddenly Avrak felt Taysa’s eyes go cold. Ever since he could remember that sword had always been there, it was a prized possession that the blacksmith cared for dearly.

“ It belongs to me.” The statement Arin uttered now seemed to shock the both of them as he reached over to grab the sword.

To understand, when Arin had walked into the shop his attention was immediately captured the sword, or to be precise the insignia that was carved on to its hilt.

It was made up of silver crescent moon, which had three parallel lines that ran through it.

A symbol he had spent countless days searching for. When his mother passed away she did not leave behind anything that pointed towards her identity besides her flute. Arin was desperate to find anything about her to fill the gap that she had left behind in his heart.

Yet no artisan or craftsman had any clue as to who the insignia belonged to.

Now he had found the exact same symbol in an abandoned shop, in a random village within the desert.

A dormant desperation had been awakened. Without hesitation Arin turned to grab the sword.

“ Impudent!” Not believing that someone had the gall to come into his shop and take his prized treasure, the old man threw his walking stick at Arin

“ Oh snap” Avrak pushed Arin to duck the oncoming stick. Truly he had never seen him this angry before. It seemed that Arin was important to Yomel, if something happened Avrak would be in for the lesson of a lifetime.

Arin felt the stick pass over him missing his head but knocking his turban over. He was no longer in a daze.

However without the turban, bright red hair fell into the angry old mans sight.

In a instant his flushed face calmed down, instead his mouth opened and closed continuously before able to say only a single word.

“ Master?! ”