Xerxes loved the rain. Isin’s capital city was located on the coast in the south, and had a temperate climate in which rain was rare and snow was even rarer. He loved the smell of water from the sky, and out here so far from civilization, that smell was even better, mixed with the odor of trees and grass. Everything about this mission so far had been like a dream come true.

Thanks to last night’s downpour, the streets were pure mud. But this was Isin, and even though it was a small town, they still had wooden walkways to keep the mud at bay.

It was a typical small border town, although Xerxes had no experience traveling in such places, so it was all new to him. The tavern was located on one of the main thoroughfares. To the right, perhaps two hundred cubits away, was the main square, which was the center of town. The same distance in the opposite direction was one of the town’s four entrance gates, beyond which was nothing but open road.

Although there were wars fought on Mannemid, things had been peaceful for years. What was more, this area was far from any location where armies would take the field, so it was no surprise the town didn’t have walls. As for the gates, they weren’t functional, and did little more than provide a visible demarcation between the ‘town proper’ and the outside. Inside the boundaries formed by the gates, the buildings were primarily one or two stories tall, with only two of them having a third floor, those being the town hall that also housed the constabulary, and the local church. Most buildings were wooden structures, although there were some sturdier edifices constructed from brick. There were even a few whose walls were covered with plaster.

The look and feel of the town was definitely different from the capital, where the weather was dry and dusty almost year round.

“What’s this place called again?” Gandash asked as they walked toward the main square.

“Forgot,” Xerxes said.

Bel came to the rescue. “Kisiga.”

Xerxes nodded. “Right. Town of Kisiga. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place this small.”

Bel laughed softly. “My hometown is smaller.”

“We’re snooty city folk,” Gandash said, “so what do you expect?”

They soon entered the town square, which would be filled with tents and stalls on market day, but was currently empty.

Xerxes looked left and right. In addition to the road they’d just walked down from the tavern, there were three other roads leading in the other cardinal directions. “Well, here we are. Center of town. Which way to the interesting stuff?”

“I noticed a weapon shop when we arrived,” Bel said. “It’s down that way. And Captain Ishki told me there’s a bookshop around here somewhere that stocks ancient texts.”

“Well, if we have to pick between books and weapons,” Xerxes said, “I’m going to vote for weapons.”

Gandash cleared his throat. “I’d vote for books, but I know Bel’s going to pick weapons too.”

“You know me too well,” Bel laughed. She was soft spoken, but that didn’t mean she was soft willed. The people of Od didn’t gain their barbarian reputation out of nowhere; just like Xerxes, she’d trained in the fighting arts since youth. In fact, she and Xerxes had long been sparring partners, ever since they were Sighted disciples fresh at the Academy.

As they turned northward and headed down the street, something caught Xerxes’ attention out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw a flicker of motion in a nearby alley, as though someone had been standing there and then ducked out of sight.

Beggar? Xerxes thought. Surely not in a remote border town like this. Then who?

Shrugging, he followed Bel and Gandash down the street. It only took about five minutes to find the weapons shop she’d referred to. Bel and Gandash threw their hoods back, while Xerxes removed his hat and snapped it free of water.

Upon stepping inside, they found themselves surrounded by the smell of leather and oil, although there was a faint undertone of musty wood as well. There were racks of weapons on all the walls, as well as barrels filled with things like staves, spears, and the like. A lone shelf had a few books on it, presumably fighting manuals, strategy treatises and the like, and there was a dusty-looking tapestry that depicted some sort of spear duel.

Xerxes’ initial impression was that it was mostly junk. He saw spears and swords that had clearly seen many years of service before retiring along with whatever soldiers had wielded them. There were knives, staves, bows, polearms, a few exotic weapons. One section of the wall had axes and swords carved from wood and clearly designed for use in training.

“Welcome,” said a creaky voice. Xerxes looked to the back of the shop, where a wizened old man sat behind a cluttered counter polishing thick eyeglasses with a strip of cloth.

“Hello, sir,” Gandash said, offering a short bow. “We’re from—”

“The capital,” the old man said with a laugh. “I know. Figured some a you soldiers’d come by soon enough. Don’t they ‘and out lots o’ swords and the like for ya back in the capital?”

“That they do,” Gandash said with a nod. “But we’re interested in what unique wares might be available this far from the heart of the kingdom.”

Xerxes, used to his friend taking the lead when it came to formalities and social interactions with elders, stepped toward the right-side wall of the shop to take a closer look at the weapons there. Bel went in the opposite direction.

“Ain’t no better place for weapons collecting in Kisiga than this ‘ere shop, I tell ya that.” The old man put a final effort into polishing his glasses, then tossed the cloth somewhere behind the counter.

Now that he was closer to the collection of weapons, Xerxes could see that his previous assessment was in no way incorrect. These weapons were all old and used. Some were of superior craftsmanship to others, but none were masterworks by any stretch of the imagination.

“Have anything… special?” Bel asked, reaching out to run her hand along the shaft of a spear. “Behind the counter or in the back room?”

“Well of course,” the old man said, putting his glasses on. “I don’t keep the fancy and expensive stuff sitting out in the open. Even in a little place like this, there’s still folks with sticky fingers.” It was only at this point that he finally looked at Bel. “Well, in the name of the Pontifarch, you sure are a looker! Ain’t never seen ‘air that fair since my youth! What’s a beauty from Od doing out in the middle of nowhere ‘ere?”

Bel looked over at him with a faint smile. “Work.”

“Ah right. Soldiering and all that.”

Xerxes had always treated Bel like a friend. But it would have been a lie if he claimed not to have discussed her physical appearance with Gandash. Xerxes happened to feel that Bel wasn’t particularly attractive. She looked too different as far as he was concerned. Too tall, compared to Isinian girls, and her skin tone was all wrong. Her shoulders were too broad, and her hips were too narrow.

Gandash, on the other hand, had been smitten with her from day one, though he’d hidden it well throughout the years.

“Sir,” Xerxes said, “what are these special weapons you mentioned? Have any swords, by chance?”

“Yeah I ‘ave a fancy sword. Plus an ax from a local blacksmith two generations back that was considered a master. And a spear from Fal.”

Fal was the third kingdom in the triumvirate of governments that held sway over Mannemid’s sole, sprawling continent. It was neither the strongest, nor the most feared, but it was the richest, and as a result, it had a reputation for high craftsmanship.

However, Xerxes didn’t care much for spears and axes. His weapon was the sword, and though the one leaning against his bed back in the tavern was by no means junk, neither was it something he felt particularly proud to wield. It had seen many years of use before it became Xerxes, and it looked its age. But on Mannemid, swords of the type he preferred were slim pickings. He practiced a style that wasn’t common in Isin, Fal, or Od. It was an off-world way of fighting, and it required off-world swords that were much longer and slimmer than the short bronze type common among soldiers and commoners alike.

After encountering classes taught by a foreigner in the capital, he’d fallen in love with the unusual sword and the unique way of fighting that went with it.

“I’d like to see the special sword,” Xerxes said. “Axes and spears aren’t really my thing.”

The old man nodded knowingly. “You’re that type, eh? Well, sorry to say, unless you like gigantic silly-looking swords, I doubt this one’s for you.”

Xerxes’ ears perked up, but before he could say anything, Gandash said, “Gigantic swords. My friend loves gigantic swords!”

“Is that so? In that case, you wait right ‘ere, I’ll be back in a minute.” He hopped off of the stool he’d been sitting on, then hobbled away into the rear of the shop.

“Getting excited?” Bel asked.

Xerxes pshawed. “Yeah right. What are the chances a shop at the edge of the world has a longsword for sale?”

“You never know. My favorite bow doesn’t come from Od. I found it in a second-hand shop in a back alley in Fal.”

The three mages continued to browse the weapons for about three minutes until the shopkeeper returned.

When Xerxes saw the sword he carried, his heart skipped a beat.