Past.

  Gray gloves. Black stripes for seams. Holding her hand.

  Through the gaps of her messy green hair, the little girl, Fina, looked up toward the man in black suit. Her stare from within the shade had a special sparkle to it. That of respect, admiration, and gratitude mixed into one.

  Cold, Fina thought. Yet warm.

  She liked this, walking together with him, her hand in his hand.

  She liked this, being accepted.

  ***

  Latla. Present.

  In the night, Latla walked through the streets of Khiva, alone.

  As the alleyways were dark, she navigated through the well-lit main road. At this time of the day, the atmosphere was calm and peaceful. The air was cool, the wind carried a tune, and the stars above provided company.

  … Should be around here, Latla thought.

  She searched left and right, then spotted a particular building:

  One story tall, made of wood that looked both ancient and sturdy, with a sign planted in front.

  The Crescent Moon Tavern, Latla read the sign. Knowing that she had found the right place, she entered the establishment. He should be here.

  ***

  Fina. Present.

  Inside the Crescent Moon Tavern, standing at a roundtable, a green-haired young woman was about to share her story.

  Think of it like a music performance, Fina thought.

  She glanced at her audience: people whom she had never met, who enjoyed listening to good stories whilst drinking coffee. One of them, she observed, was more focused on eating porridge though. A sign that she had failed to make an interesting impression.

  The harmony must resonate with them for this to matter.

  ‘Does any of you,’ Fina began, ‘have items which aren’t just items?’

  Her audience, pondering her question, swapped glances with each other. Then, a guy asked, ‘“Items which aren’t just items”? What do ya mean?’

  I’m hearing a good tune, Fina thought. It can be better.

  She kept the question hanging. Turned to face the young woman eating porridge. Reached out to her.

  ‘Can I borrow your spoon?’

  The porridge eater stared at Fina’s shaky hand.

  ‘Tremor. Ignore it.’

  ‘… Don’t get this dirty.’ She handed the spoon to her.

  ‘This spoon she was using,’ Fina addressed to her audience. ‘It’s a woodenware that the tavern provides to carry the function of scooping porridge from a bowl. An item whose value lies in its utility.

  ‘This is just an item.’

  As soon as she said that, she received stares that expressed disagreement. A huge man protested, ‘That spoon is not just an item.’

  Most of them nodded in agreement.

  Things took an unexpected course.

  Just like in music, sound rarely ever behaved according to expectations. The weather could affect the instrument’s string, the wind could muffle the melody, and noise could oppose many notes.

  Despite all that, it was still possible to maintain harmony. By turning hindrance to aid.

  ‘Why not?’ Fina asked.

  ‘The craftsman who made that spoon is someone whom most of us know. We know, for a fact, that a great amount of care had been given to that simple looking spoon. He had chosen wood because it won’t get hot like metal. He had also carved the spoon in such a way that it is smooth and that it can scoop porridge effortlessly.

  ‘We’ve used that wooden spoon for years when we eat in this tavern, and we would rather that spoon than any other.’

  ‘… This spoon is important to you—’ Fina summed up— ‘because it was given meaning, both by the giver and receiver.’

  ‘Yes.’ The huge man and most others nodded.

  ‘Alright. Now,’ she turned toward the man—whose question had been left hanging for a while, ‘does that explain what I had meant when I said items which aren’t just items?’

  Her audience was surprised. Her answer had resonated with them.

  ‘There are items that aren’t just items,’ Fina said. ‘Now, I would like to ask you:

  ‘How would you feel—if I had stolen such item from you?’

  ***

  Latla.

  The Crescent Moon Tavern was a lively establishment: hospitality warmed the air, laughter sustained the mood, and chatter filled the space. It was a place where someone could climb the table and receive cheers, where dwarves and dragonkin could mingle with humans and be welcomed, where anyone could talk and be listened to.

  Not a bad place, Latla thought, pleased.

  Being here, she considered that—if she was lucky—perhaps she could recruit Members here. However, she had come for a different purpose. In her hand, she carried a paper bag containing an item. One that she would like to hand over to someone.

  The tavern was rather full; finding someone was difficult.

  Fortunately, the person of interest was easy to find, for his figure was bulky: supposedly from training and from standing guard at Khiva’s gate throughout the day. The man who, Scarlet said, had carried her to the café when she was unconscious. The same guard who, Cirrus said, had conducted that mana check on her before going to the forest. Horuk, the gatekeeper.

  He was chatting with a lion-trait beast man.

  Latla had gone here because she wanted to express her gratitude to Horuk; without his help, she wouldn’t have been recovering this fast.

  She had missed his shift when visiting the gate this afternoon. Though, after asking other guards, she found out about this place. And here she was.

  ‘May I join this table?’ Latla asked. A seat beside Horuk was empty.

  ‘Are ya new?’ asked a guy. ‘Course ya may! Don’t even need ta ask!’

  ‘You can always join any table here in this tavern, you know?’ said a woman.

  As she sat and settled down, Horuk finally took notice of her.

  ‘Oh, hey! It’s the manaless!’

  Latla winced at the word, hated it. He had meant no ill intent, sure, but that didn’t change the fact that she wanted to hit him. She refrained, of course.

  ‘Latla! How are you?’

  ‘I’m getting better, I should be at my best in a day or two.’

  ‘Wait, wait, she’s the manaless?’ asked the woman, leaning forward onto the table, interested.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Horuk declared.

  ‘Tha one who had got one of Shadow Wolf beat?’ asked the guy. ‘Tha one who had beaten tha damned unlisted monster?’

  Horuk nodded. ‘The very same.’

  ‘If she is the manaless,’ said the beast man, ‘then she has to share her story!’

  ‘I agree,’ Horuk admitted. ‘However, she’s new here; therefore, we’ll have to welcome her.’ Then, taking the lead, he raised his hand and a finger. An old man, the owner of the tavern, Latla assumed, saw that and gave a thumbs up. ‘Order made,’ he said to her. ‘Don’t worry, it’s on the table.’

  ‘Ya can thank us by sharin yer story.’

  ‘Once an order is made, there’s no taking it back, you know?’

  ‘Do forgive us, manaless, but you have to share your story!’

  I didn’t agree to this. Latla rolled her eyes, irritated. She ignored what just happened and proceeded with what she had come here for. She offered Horuk the paper bag she had been carrying.

  ‘Horuk, I’d like to thank you for your help the other day.’

  ‘Huh? Oh. No, no.’ He pushed away the paper bag. Didn’t even check the item inside. ‘It’s my duty. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Your duty was to guard the gate. But you’ve abandoned your post and ventured into the forest to fetch me.’

  ‘What? I didn’t venture into the forest to fetch you.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But you carried me to the café.’

  ‘That, I did.’

  ‘Then who carried me to the gate?’

  ‘The cat.’

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  … Noir? ‘The cat carried me to the gate?’

  ‘That’s what the boy said.’

  What can the cat not do? Latla thought, annoyed. She had to ask Cirrus about this whole thing later. ‘Still, I’d like to express my gratitude. Please accept the gift.’

  ‘No.’ The refusal was firm. ‘It is my duty, Latla.

  ‘If anyone is at the gate and needs aid, I have sworn to set aside our differences no matter what it may be and help them without any expectation for material returns! I will continue to uphold it—and I will never break it!

  ‘Instead of expressing your gratitude to me through this gift, I’d rather that you choose to extend your hand to those who need help.’

  Latla was surprised by Horuk’s conviction. Impressed by the part where he would set aside differences no matter what.

  ‘Give it up, he’s stubborn like that, you know?’

  He was, by her observation, someone who wouldn’t waver. Someone who had his own standard—and would never give up on it. Not bad, she thought.

  ‘Very well,’ Latla took the paper bag back.

  ‘… I said all that,’ Horuk added, cooling down, ‘but you were already helping others before I even ask you to. So, that was… rude of me. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No.’ Latla shook her head. ‘Nothing to apologize for. You simply told me what you believed; I find nothing wrong with that. If anything, Horuk,’ she looked at him straight in the eyes, serious, ‘I’d like to ask you something:

  ‘Would you be interested in joining my guild?’

  ***

  Fina.

  How would you feel? If the items which you considered weren’t just items—were stolen?

  ‘Angry,’ the young woman answered Fina’s question. She gestured for her to return the spoon.

  ‘You’d be angry. But, more than that,’ she handed the spoon, ‘you’d want your items back…

  ‘I… lost my items on my journey toward Khiva…

  ‘The group I had traveled with turned out to be bandits who had drugged my drink, stole my items, and left me behind.

  ‘I lost my items... The ones which aren’t just items.’ Her eyes welled with tears.

  Huge man remarked, ‘Hey, it could’ve been worse—’ ‘This is worse enough! Fina retorted, angry. ‘Those items were important to me!’

  ‘Whoa, whoa,’ huge man leaned back. ‘Yes, I understand that those items mean a lot to you, I do. However, what I wanted to say was that—you could’ve been killed by those bandits. The situation is bad, worse enough, but it’s not the worst. As long as you’re alive, you can recover your items! And we’d be glad to help you with that.’

  A woman commented, ‘You should’ve started with that, you know?’

  Fina calmed herself down. Huge man had only wanted to look at the bright side of things. And, although he shouldn’t have started it like that, he was right. This wasn’t the worst. She could—would recover her items.

  A guy asked, ‘What items are ya missing?’

  ‘A lot,’ Fina answered. ‘But there are three items that I must recover.’

  ***

  Latla.

  Horuk, surprised, pointed at himself. ‘Me? Joining your guild?’

  ‘Yes,’ Latla confirmed. ‘You.’

  ‘Latla, I have my duty as the gatekeeper of Khiva. I can’t abandon that.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to abandon your duty. You can be both: a gatekeeper and a member of my guild. You can keep your job, take quests whenever you want if you’d like to, and get guild perks. Since you like stories, by joining my guild, you’ll get a good spectator’s seat of my journey.’

  Horuk pondered about this. ‘Why me?’

  ‘I believe that a guild’s job is to lead its Members. It would be reassuring if you could share your character with others and inspire them. It could be as simple as sharing stories with them over coffee.’

  ‘So… you’re asking me to help others?’

  ‘Is that rude of me?’

  ‘Ha!’ Horuk laughed. ‘That was good! Really good!’

  The woman joined, ‘You’re basically telling Horuk to do what he always does, you know?’

  The man too, ‘Bring yer Members here! They’ll be inspired by him.’

  The beast man followed, ‘He’ll help anyone.’

  ‘If I can still be a gatekeeper, if I can still get to help at this tavern, and if I still can get that good spectator’s seat, then I’ll be a Member!’

  He won’t join the guild examination, Latla was sure, but it’s good to know that I could rely on him to be an example for the Members.

  The owner of the tavern dropped a bowl of porridge and a cup of coffee on the table for Latla. It smelled delicious.

  ‘Latla! It’s good that you’re focused about your guild, but now that you’re here, you must enjoy the tavern! That right there is the best porridge in Khiva. Eat it while listening to a story! Oh, and look,’ he referred to a young woman who was approaching their table, her hair, green in color, was a bob cut with a length that reached her chin, ‘maybe she has a story to share!’

  Latla, believing that she had fulfilled her goal, followed Horuk’s suggestion and took a spoonful of porridge.

  It was—delicious.

  ***

  Fina.

  ‘Please,’ Fina said, ‘feel free to interrupt if you’ve seen the items I’m about to describe.

  ‘The first item is a violin. It’s an elven violin, white in color, made from the wood of sacred elven tree. It has a pattern inscribed to it that makes it look… eerie and cursed.’

  She waited a while. Hoping.

  No luck.

  She continued, ‘The second item is a coat. It’s a handmade coat, brown, with a length that reaches my knees. It has a tail at the back. Its inside pocket is large enough to store a violin and has my name tailored to it.’

  Again, she waited a while. Again, she hoped.

  Again, no luck.

  She was running thin on hope. Searching for her items was a difficult task. As difficult as finding a needle in a haystack, in which she didn’t know which haystack among many to search for.

  I can’t give up, Fina told herself. If I give up, the items would never return. I have to keep going. No matter what.

  ‘The third item is—’

  ***

  Past.

  The little girl walked hand-in-hand with the man in black suit, entering a town.

  Fina didn’t know where they were going. That didn’t matter to her.

  As long as they were together.

  ***

  They stood in front of a building. Fina’s face turned pale.

  This building had a playground for kids her age. With no parents within sight. It bore a sign that stated: “Symphony’s Orphanage”.

  I don’t want this.

  ‘Aa.’ The man in black suit let go of her hand.

  He gave her a smile, turned, and—

  Fina grabbed his hand. Preventing him from walking away. From leaving her.

  ‘I…’ she said, ‘I don’t want to say good-bye…’

  The man glanced over his shoulder. Saw her tears. Confused.

  ‘Aa!’ he remarked. He thought he understood.

  He took the item he wore, then—handed it to Fina.

  ***

  Fina & Latla. Present – Crescent Moon Tavern.

  ‘—a glove,’ she said. ‘Its color is gray, with black stripes for seams.’

  The porridge eating young woman, Latla, blinked.

  That description was familiar.

  ‘A woman’s gloves?’ she asked.

  Fina perked up. ‘Yes. Does it have a name inscribed inside the gloves?’

  Latla, having inspected the gloves before applying for a loan, remembered its details. ‘3 letter name,’ Latla described. ‘Starts with a J.’

  ‘Yes! “Jun”, isn’t it?’

  Latla nodded.

  ‘Yes, yes!’ Fina was elated. After having shared her story so many times, too many to count, she had finally got a result! Sure, her other two items were still missing, but this was progress! ‘Can I please have it back?’

  ‘… I promise I’ll give it back when I can.’

  That’s vague, Fina thought. ‘Do you have it with you?’

  ‘More or less.’ ‘What is that supposed to mean?!’

  ‘I can’t give it back to you now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I had used it as a guarantee.’

  ‘What’s a gua-run-tea?’

  Latla rolled her eyes. Not this again…

  Fina noticed her eye roll. The gesture irked her. No matter how she perceived it, this crown braid young woman was—toying with her! She had her precious gloves but refused to return it! How dare she?

  You don’t know anything about the gloves!

  ***

  ‘No. No! I don’t want your gloves!’ little Fina had protested. ‘I… I want—

  ***

  ‘I want those gloves back,’ Fina told Latla, angry. ‘If you’re not going to give it back to me, then I’ll take it back by force!’

  Fina charged toward Latla.

  The people at the table were wary, but Latla calmed them down by saying this as she stood up: ‘I’ll handle this.’

  As green hair stepped within Latla’s range, she released a no-motion jab, a punch that gave no tell. Yet, she dodged it.

  Latla didn’t expect that. Thought she could end this with just a punch.

  Latla threw a hook. Green hair dodged by ducking. When she ducked, her hair lagged, and Latla could get a glimpse of her ears. Her ears, she observed, was sharp, elven, and—had been cut vertically in half.

  Wha—

  Fixated over the sight, Latla got tackled.

  Fina brought crown braid to the floor.

  Being on top of her, she had a positional advantage. Her hand suffered from tremor, but she could still form fists with them and—swung them down. Thus, she threw her hammer strikes at her.

  ‘We should separate them!’ the woman at the table shouted.

  Huge man agreed. ‘I’m on it!’

  ‘No!’ The beast man prevented. ‘She said she’ll handle this! We must respect her decision!’

  ‘I have ta agree with him,’ pitched another.

  Crown braid had her guards up against Fina’s relentless strikes.

  ‘Give it back!’ Fina shouted. ‘Give it back! Give it back! Give it back!!

  ‘You… You don’t know what those gloves mean to me!’

  ***

  Past.

  ‘I want to belong. With you! Please…’ Fina cried.

  Her words—fell on deaf ears.

  The man, with his bare hand, patted her head.

  Against her sorrow, he put out a bright smile. One that was, to her, as bright as the sun.

  ‘Seea yuou,’ he said to her.

  Then, as if the matter was resolved, he walked away.

  Not good-bye, Fina thought.

  She held the gloves dearly.

  I’ll meet you again. This is a promise. Either he would come back for the gloves, or she had to give it back to him.

  ‘See you too!’ Fina shouted.

  The man glanced over his shoulder. And they waved at each other.

  I will hold on to these gloves and give them back to you. I swear.

  ***

  Present.

  The hammer strikes were relentless, but none had landed clean. Latla had kept her guard up, blocked all the strikes, and kept staring at her assailant.

  How am I supposed to know what those gloves mean to you?! she thought, annoyed. She didn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know. She only understood that her assailant valued the gloves, that they were precious to her. And that…

  … made Latla all the more angry.

  ‘If the gloves are that important to you…’

  Latla lifted herself up by pushing against the ground with her body. Then, with the strength of her core, toppled Fina to the side and got on top of her, reversing the position. She raised her hand and gripped it into a fist.

  ‘Don’t lose it to begin with!’

  She swung her fist.

  Bam!

  … The fight was settled.

  Latla had—missed on purpose. Instead of bashing Fina’s skull, she made a hole on the wooden floor right beside her head.

  Latla stood up. Swiped dust away from her shoulders.

  The tavern’s warm liveliness had first changed to hot panic, then to dead cold quiet. Everyone was staring at her. At the person who could have obliterated someone’s skull with her fist.

  I suppose their response is fair, she thought. Can’t do anything about it.

  Fina was still lying on the ground.

  Seeing that, Latla offered her hand.

  ‘I’ll give your gloves back when I get them back. I promise.’

  Fina reached for Latla’s hand and—slapped it.

  Latla snapped.

  A second round occurred in that tavern that night. Finally, the people of the tavern were united as one—and worked together to put a stop to Latla’s outburst.