“Hm?”

  I turned to see Nel sprinting toward me.

  “Yo! Mister Pax!”

  He stopped a few feet in front of me, bent over to catch his breath.

  “I came to—wait—”

  He coughed, wiping sweat from his brow.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Came to check on the sword!”

  He straightened, speaking with a firm pride.

  “The sword?”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah! I wanted to see if it suited you! As a whitesmith, I take pride in my work!”

  He beamed with admiration.

  “It is of high quality, Nel. I'm grateful.”

  …

  “Tell you what. I'll buy you something from the market.”

  “Chicken skewers. Your favorite.”

  I smiled faintly.

  “Wow! Yeah!”

  “Hell yeah! Actually—let’s go right now!”

  He turned quickly, starting to walk ahead.

  I swiftly raised my blade and sliced his head off.

  “It’s Uncle Pax.”

  I muttered as the head hit the snow and shriveled to a husk. The body collapsed shortly after.

  “The quest did say there were two…”

  I sighed deeply, eyes narrowing.

  “But they’re definitely not Natums.”