How? How have I already been recognized? Is he more perceptive than I thought?

  Caius pulled Sethion into a fierce hug, oblivious to the other party's inner conflict. Still, ear to ear, the unwelcome aristocrat began speaking.

  "It's good to see you."

  Sethion found himself at a loss for words, stumped by the emotional reaction. He stood still without returning the hug, enveloped by the other man's patchouli fragrance. Finally, Sethion awkwardly petted Caius on the shoulder, more as a request to be released than a sign of affection.

  What is this? We barely know each other, right?

  One of the servants agreed with Sethion's evaluation, clearing his throat. The middle-aged man looked Sethion up and down, taking in the simple clothing and the lack of an entourage. A slight twitch of the upper lip revealed his thoughts on the young master mingling with the runaway. Slowly, Caius released the crushing hug, much to the appreciation of Sethion's empty lungs.

  "I'm glad to see you as well - what a coincidence to meet like this," Sethion managed after gasping for air.

  "Indeed," Caius answered with a bright smile, swiftly replaced by guilt as if he had broken an expensive vase.

  "Did I hurt you?"

  Sethion waved him off, taking a step back to keep some distance between the two of them.

  "Not at all." He quickly answered, happy that Caius didn't deign to ask about his state, clothing, or his purpose of strolling the streets alone. The less the thief had to reveal, the better in case the third son of the Junius family ever were questioned.

  "My deepest condolences. I have heard about your illness." Caius clasped his hands around Sethion's, indicating real concern. The last puzzle piece fell into place for Sethion.

  One of those.

  He struggled not to put on a strained expression. His teeth ground against each other while he stared straight through the other noble. Sometimes, it felt like someone else piloted his body in those moments. It was a conversation he had held as often as it was meaningless. Most of the time, it wasn't even about him but the other's conscience.

  "How are you faring?" Caius inquired. It was a dumb question, as the noble realized a moment later when he shifted awkwardly.

  Scenes flashed through Sethion's mind. A dark-green myth, a sea serpent climbing into the clouds, and a contract pressing against his fingertips. His tone remained firm as he answered, an excited glint dancing in his brown eyes.

  "Good - better than I ever expected, honestly."

  Caius remained frozen. Then his mouth parted, the lips opening slightly, forming an o-shape.

  "Truly?"

  Sethion gave a brief nod filled with certainty.

  "Truly."

  "I see. That's unexpected but not unwelcome news." The healthy noble's mouth curved into a soft line. "Eventually, we will all have to accept what fate has in store for us."

  Sethion was unsure what, by the pantheon, went on in Caius's head, but he had an inkling it strayed far from the truth. Not that Sethion would complain. The truth was currently not his ally.

  "Indeed, we have to submit to fate by our own free will," the runaway patrician validated the other's thoughts. Sensing the opportunity, Sethion turned to leave.

  One of the servants stepped forward, noticing the action.

  "Ere, I believe master Marcus is expecting your presence."

  Smooth assist.

  Caius's eyebrows furrowed. Clearly, he didn't enjoy being reminded of his obligations.

  "Sethion, you should join …"

  "I cannot. The eternal city beckons me for one last journey," he declared, stifling the spark before it could catch fire. Sethion didn't know when it had happened, but lying had become commonplace for him, and by now, the words flowed naturally off his tongue.

  "How unfortunate…"

  Sethion avoided his gaze as if ashamed. Caius patted him on the shoulder, a final gesture of valediction.

  "May your journey be devoid of dangers. Carpe diem."

  Oh, I will seize much more than just the day.

  "Thank you," Sethion said, speaking from his heart. The talk had been strangely pleasant for one about his imminent demise.

  "Best of luck." With those words, he left Caius behind. Hopefully, this conversation hadn't been a mistake. Still, for now, he had a certain store to find.

  ?

  When Sethion reached his destination, he had to double-check if he was at the right address. Surrounded by vast mansions stood the weapon store like a lone crow among swans. The two-story structure built from smooth concrete wasn't unsightly, just unusually plain. The only expensive part was the two windows occupying most of the storefront. It looked like a giant had picked up a house from the lower city and dropped it among the insulae of the merchants and aristocrats.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Sethion shrugged as the gold in his pockets weighed heavily, urging him to spend it. He hoped he could afford what he had come for if it were even sold. He walked closer to the place, realizing he was at the correct store as he glimpsed through the glass at various decorated swords on display, some even layered with gems. The showpieces showed a stark contrast to the simplicity of the store itself. It seemed bizarre to find such costly pieces in such a simple place. The young man raised an eyebrow. Not a single price tag marred the view, indicating that each weapon would most likely sell for a fortune.

  Hopefully, they sell more than this useless crap.

  He had never purchased a sword himself, relying on custom orders. The store's reputation had reached him before Quintus's recommendation. Sethion pushed open the door engraved with the symbol of an anvil surrounded by a setting sun.

  The interior followed the same style as the outside. A simple vaulted ceiling stretched above his head, from which two oil lamps dangled, casting the surroundings in a warm glow. Various forms of weaponry, from spears to battle axes to the common gladius, lay on wooden racks, each one of a kind, differing from the others and elegantly crafted. Each blade shimmered with incredible sharpness. None of them were adorned with gold or gems. Only a few other customers perused the wares, most clad in fine silks.

  "May I help you?" A black-haired man in his mid-twenties, wearing the symbol that embellished the door, questioned him—already frowning as if the outcome were a foregone conclusion. Based on the man's bulging arm muscles, the thief assumed he was, at the very least, a blacksmith apprentice. Why Sethion had been singled out seemed rather clear. Again, his clothing.

  The young patrician ignored the connotations of the seller, instead taking the words at face value, answering with a warm smile.

  "As a matter of fact, I do require your assistance. Does this establishment stock weapons made from more esoteric materials?"

  The frown of the other party deepened as sky-blue eyes peered into Sethion's brown.

  "What exactly are you referring to? I fear we don't sell any wooden swords."

  Sethion's smile cracked.

  What's this guy's problem?

  "Don't fret that you may be unable to fulfill my wishes. I'm searching for a weapon, a sword, to be more precise, forged from cold steel."

  The man's eyebrow rose to an almost comical degree. Again, he evaluated Sethion, skeptically glancing at the seventeen-year-old's scrawny physique.

  "You serious?"

  "Very much so."

  "For who?"

  "Myself, naturally."

  A deep sigh left the blacksmith's mouth as if coming straight from the soul. He pinched two fingers against the bridge of his nose, casting an annoyed glance at Sethion.

  "Tell Caelina, we don't take kindly to sending her goons for poaching. Now, leave before I have to make you." He shooed Sethion away.

  For a second, the patrician's features froze in stupor at the sudden insult.

  "Who the hell is Caelina? And who are you calling goon, you air-headed fool?" Sethion regretted the words as soon as they left his overeager mouth. Scratch that. He didn't regret them one bit. The other man didn't deserve such a sentiment. He only regretted the result, which his rash action would eventually cause. Quickly, Sethion focused on salvaging the last of the non-existing goodwill.

  The number of misunderstandings I have to endure… This is what happens when you look like you are in the wrong place.

  The blacksmith crossed his arms.

  "Ha, almost got me." He pointed with his thumb to the door. "Now get lost."

  Though Sethion was a liar and thief, he found such treatment of a customer, who was more than willing to pay, unacceptable. He put his hands on his hips.

  "What is the point of this farce?" The nobleman sneered. "Do you or do you not have what I'm looking for?"

  The seller's eyes narrowed while his jaw tensed, creating a nasty scowl. The man's bicep twitched, and Sethion almost flinched in reaction. A few curious customers began openly watching the spectacle. The store clerk moved closer, his chest hovering about a hand's length away from Sethion's.

  "How much is she paying you? Is it worth selling your morals for?"

  "What by the depths of Tartarus are you referring to?"

  The wider man scoffed.

  "Caelina is obviously paying you to…"

  Sethion raised his voice slightly, just enough to overpower and drown out the other person's words.

  "And I'm telling you. I don't know this person that you are apparently so obsessed with that your entire world seems to revolve around her."

  "And I'm saying that you are full of shit." The man increased his volume as well. His enormous hands grabbed Sethion's shoulders, fully encompassing them. Dull echoes of what pain for a normal person would be traveled through the young man's nervous system. The bystanders abandoned all pretense of not gawking at the argument. Some were even grinning at the entertainment as if they were witnessing a fight in the Colosseum.

  Soft steps resounded off the floor, remaining unheard over the ruckus. They kept pace in a steady rhythm, hurried in a controlled manner. Only when the situation in the store seemed to escalate did the steps accelerate.

  Meanwhile, Sethion continued the argument.

  "Is that how you treat every customer in this establishment?!" He nearly shouted at this point as the volume of their voices climbed higher and higher.

  "Oh, as if you would ever be able to afford anything here, twerp."

  A single finger tapped lightly against the clerk's shoulder. The young man didn't notice it at first, but the taps remained persistent, unwilling to remain ignored for much longer.

  "What?!" His enormous biceps flexed as he spun around. In an instant, the store attendee's expression flipped from rage to horror as the blood fled from his face.

  Sethion regarded the newcomer. He was a giant of a man, more than two heads bigger than him, while Sethion himself was not small by any standard. Some gray hair covered his temples, hinting at an older age.

  "Livius," the man spoke in a calm and relaxed tone. "What exactly seems to be the problem here?"

  Livius, who now seemed quite far from confronting anyone, hesitated a while to answer.

  "Uhm, well you see, he was, uhmm," he stammered.

  Noticing that eliciting a proper answer would be challenging, the newcomer turned to Sethion.

  "Paulus."

  "Gaius."

  Sethion and the man exchanged a firm handshake after their introductions.

  Finally, someone reasonable.

  "So, what got the two of you so riled up?"

  "A mere misconception," Sethion answered swiftly, framing the conversation.

  "Oh, is that so? It seemed quite heated for a mere misconception."

  Sethion let out an awkward laugh, not wanting to speak ill of the apprentice as the two were obviously related.

  Livius found his bearings again, chipping in with a defensive tone.

  "He asked for cold steel. So I thought he is related…"

  "Oh, is that so?" The older man interrupted, clearly intrigued by the new information. "What would you need that for?"

  Half a dozen lies went through Sethion's head before he decided to ultimately tell the truth.

  "To cut faeries."

  "Why you wanna cut them?"

  "Mostly to prevent them gutting me."

  Sethion remembered the Cu Sith in its terrible glory.

  Never again.

  "Hmmm."

  Livius's eyes darted back and forth between the two.

  "You are believing him? He obviously isn't a warrior!"

  Wait, that's his problem?

  Sethion forcefully closed his mouth. Why would that even matter? He was willing to pay, so shouldn't that be enough? Noticing his confusion, the older man gave an explanation.

  "We had trouble with people buying up our already limited supply of such special weaponry and reselling it when news of troublesome faery myths surfaced."

  The man's knuckles turned wide as he balled his hands into fists.

  "Honorless, opportunistic behavior, exploiting treasure seekers and those desperate to defend their home. But there seems to be a simple solution here. You want a cold steel weapon for yourself, correct?"

  "Correct."

  "Then prove yourself a warrior."

  I can work with this.

  Sethion's eyes shone with a dangerous light.

  "How about a duel then?" he regarded Livius.

  "I like it," Paulus said.

  "That's a terrible idea," Livius spoke at the same time, far from his earlier belligerent attitude.

  Sethion felt a tailwind as the momentum returned to his side.

  "Well, it will only turn into an issue if you are going to lose. Tell me, smith, will you?"

  Paulus clasped his hands without even waiting for an answer, entirely too excited.

  "We have it then."