Lindley shook his head and quickly covered the damaged hilt of the harbinger blade that was pointing out of his garment before yelling in pain. "Mine!"

"Yours?"

"Y-es.." Nodding his head, Lindley struggled to suppress the bitterness in his heart. "It once belonged to my father."

Byram took a step back in surprise. "It once?"

"Yes. He's dead now. This is the only thing left of his memory. I can't allow you to take it from me."

"Hmm, I see."

Determined, Lindley continued to stare into the eyes of the mercenary for a long time before asking. "Why should someone be buried with my ancestral sword?"

"You really don't know?!" Byram stared at the boy as if he had seen a ghost. Then, he leaned forward, eyes shining with a dark intent. If the boy wasn't related to the godking, he was as good as dead. "I'll answer that, young man, but first, tell me your father's name."

Lindley leaned back against the wall of the cavern and said, "Arundel Stormfire, that's my father's name."

"Where is he from, before Waterpond?"

"Azmar."

"Now, keep your voice low, boy." Byram uttered as he let out his breath in a ragged gasp. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, but why?" Lindley asked, eyes knitted in a frown.

"Let's just say, a number of people want your father dead."

"It no longer matters, he is dead now..." His voice broke, but he snarled at his own weakness and went on "...killed by a dragonrider, along with my mother. One day, I'll avenge their blood."

Seeing a smile of happiness on Byram, Lindley was startled.

"Really?" Byram demanded, suddenly embarrassed. He lowered his sword, looking at the lone survivor of a village attack..

"Yes, I'll kill him one day. This is my path."

"You're really amusing, boy." The knight said gently, "sit down here."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mhm." He sheathed his own sword and sat on a large rock. He sighed, and brought out a small liquid container. He removed the stopper and held of out to Lindley. "Do you care for a sip?"

Lindley eyed the container, realized that he was very thirsty and stood up. He took a step closer to the adventurer. "If you can give me some answers and promise not to kill me."

"You have the word of Byram, the half-knight of the Freelands. My word is my bond." Byram regarded Lindley with a nod and said. Then, he cleared his throat and continued, "I'll also answer your question, but first you need to tell me your name."

"My name is Lindley, son of Arundel Stormfire, the chief of the Waterpond village."

"Only son?"

"Yes, the only son," Lindley said, taking the liquid container. "I've given you your answer. Can you answer mine now, please?"

The knight smile broadly at Lindley. "Yes, young one. I'll tell you what you asked, but I need one more answer from you."

Lindley stared at the man in apprehension. "What now, sir half-knight?"

Byram nodded his head as he looked at Lindley in astonishment. "Please tell me, do you have any relatives, like brothers and sisters?"

Lindley shook his head. "No, only me."

"And your mother?"

"I don't know, probably among the ashes of the village." Lindley shrugged and spread his hands before taking a long, thoughtful drink from the urn.

At once, his nose and throat exploded in simmering fire. He fell on his knees aa he choked and gasped. Through his watery eyes, he saw Byram shifted swiftly forward to assist him, and to save his urn.

The knight's strong hands helped him to a sitting position and gently shook him. "Not a Firewater drinker, are you?"

Lindley managed a shake of his head, hanging it in a bow.

Byram roughly patted him on the arm and said, "Well enough. Back to your question. It seems your parents prefer to tell you nothing for your own safety. Tell you the truth, I agree with them, but..."

"But-?"

"Hold on." The knight raised one amoured hand to halt Lindley. "...but I already gave you my word. A knight keeps his promises, however rashly made they are."

"Thank you." Lindley said.

"Okay, how much do you know about your parents? I mean your ancestral lineage?"

"Nothing," Lindley shrugged and said bitterly, "beyond the names of my parents. My father you already know apart from the fact that he was glad that I didn't venture outside the woods of Bristlecone. My mother was Amora, a monk and a gatherer. That's all."

Byram rolled his eyes, sighed, and said, "Well, then. Listen and learn about your lore. If you live pass these days, I suggest you keep what I'm about to tell you to yourself. Wizards, and occasionally warlocks, hunt your ancestral bloodline in Azmar, these days."

"So, I figured," Lindley uttered bitterly.

"I think I must have forgotten about your recent predicament, young one." Byram sighed in sympathy. He spread armoured hands before him, and said, "This dominion, Azmar, is called the god's kingdom after one man, Godric Stormfire, the godking. He was a powerful ruler, warrior, and also your grand ancestor."

Lindley nodded. "That much I could guess from your words. Why then am I not in royal robes right now in some beautiful high chamber in Azmar?"

Byram gave him a grin of delight and chuckled. "Your wit and thinking is like that of your grandfather, young one."

He reached an arm behind him, found a rucksack, and rummaged in it as he went on. "The best answer to that is to tell you all I know about what truly happened. You see, Godric was my lord. Although I was a young half-knight then, I constantly graced his presence. He was the greatest swordsman I've ever seen. The godking. Are you with me?"

"Yes."

"Your grandfather eventually died during the Archaic war, I believe it was in the hands of the Barbarian king, Guadora the zealot. He knew what would happen going up against the destructive forces of the barbarians with no adequate support. It was as if he wanted to die that day."

"And why would my grandfather do that?"

"Can't really say, boy. Can't really say." The knight's voice sank to a whisper, all traces of his smile gone as he observed the young Lindley. "But I believe it has something to do with...."

"With what?"

"Yes..." Byram found what he was looking for. A medium piece of baked millet, and together with a piece of rabbit meat, he held it out wordlessly.

Lindley took it, nodded his thanks, and indicated the half-knight to carry on with his words. That gesture brought the faintest of smiles to Byram's lips.