Chapter VI

'Why?'

In a city swordsmith on the outskirts of Plutus, the Girl pouts at her situation. Wearing the cloak of her saviour, she stands still, statuesque.

'Why?!'

As best she can, she carries a stack of swords: a superfluous souvenir from a sword sublimist. Sao, just in the black vest he wears under his cloak, scrambles desperately after the best sabres the store can offer.

'The texture, the weight, the regularity, what a beauty.'

'Why?!!'

The stack sprouted surpassing the short stature of the Girl. Spiteful it is, disregarding pure science to stand side by side with the sky. She slants so that Sao's skyscraper stumbles a top of his frame, his face forced to speak to the street stage.

'I think I may have gone too far.'

She disregards his comments and sends the stack back to the store salesman.

Transitioning to sitting upright, Sao dusts his shoulders and proceeds to slither out of the store, snatching her with his left (a sword with his right) to start their escape. They make haste, slipping between strangers peacefully strolling, saving their senses for a suitable spot to move out of the storming shop clerk's vision. Sao glances over his left shoulder; he anticipates the clerk's subsequent status. Squeezing threw a vast swarm of citizens and finding seclusion behind shunned crates in a quiet alleyway, Sao peeks out to assess their supposed security. Clueless was the clerk. The crowd shifted on, and he followed suit. Sao and the Girl wait behind the crates with just their three shadows keeping surveillance.

Time sways onwards. All shadows synthesize into one. Sao and the Girl conserve themselves in the Moon's shade; another swordsmith their destination.

'Another one? We were just at a swordsmith and you stole a sword, so why do we need to go to a new one?'

'I know that. We could've gone home if those weapons weren't fake. The demon! So well manufactured, I have never been so disappointed to not get stabbed.'

'Please will you grow up.'

'Don't worry, people call where we're going the cream-of-the-crop.'

'If this one is of such high praise then why did you waste my "precious time" in there?'

'Put a lid on it, I was just curious.'

'Curiosity killed the cat.'

'Honestly, I'm surprised you know that saying, but it was already decided that I would leave unscathed from there.'

'Is that so? How do you know that?'

'I couldn't be killed by those fakes.'

'Maybe not, but the clerk looked like he wanted to test your theory.'

'I could've taken him.'

'Oh really, and that's why we are behind a pile of garba-'

'Like I said, where we are going next is the cream-of-the-crop. I promise, I've been using his services for years now. One look at my face and you'll get premium treatment.'

The Girl's expectations plummet as the towering skyscrapers transform into tiny shacks; she stares on searching for the missing marble in the marsh. Below her sandals sit the summary of excessive neglect. Piles of sweepings slide down the rising hills, they lace the threshold of the streets built with crimson bricks. Air stuffed with homicidal tendencies, puddles consisting of non-watery substances mimicking mud pools, the looming stench of last week's meal. They stood in one of Plutus' few insecurities.

'We're here.'

In-front stood a shack, minuscule in size, the wood walls decomposing as sounds from the city centre disintegrate from the sky surrounding Sao and the Girl's ears. Silence falls as Sao knocks on the door. Only seconds passed until the door was flung open, soaring inches from the pair's noses.

From the shack surfaces a shrivelled senescent man, stunted of growth. A sizeable apron covers his torso, its dull-brown merges with the dust and stains collected over decades of craftsmanship. His voice fills the air with its roughness.

'You?! If you've come back then that means… if you've broken my pride and joy, I'll…!'

'Relax. I have it on me in one peace, but we're not here for me. We're here for her.'

'It's nice to meet you, sir.'

His bipolar face switches. A certain eagerness in his eyes arises while the visions of future masterpieces to his name take shape in his mind.

'Spiffin', it's been years I tell you since I've had a new customer. I've gotten bored of seeing the same child face each time. You'd do better than copyin' him, that's for sure. Maybe, you won't scare away my customers.'

'Please, Gramps, no need to batter me for that every time I see you. How many times have I said that I'll pay you back, and I'm sorry?'

'Too many for someone who hasn't paid a pinch. Besides, I have a new customer to provide for. And no, this doesn't count as paying me back. So, love, what would you like?'

'I feel that you would have a better idea than me. I do not know much about weapons, I am merely here to ask. You are far wiser than I; I believe that you would make the best decision after that.��

The girl lifts her hand and covers the petal on her neck.

'Don't fret poppet, I've got the perfect idea for you, give me a month, and it'll be ready.'

And then the deal was successful. A shake of hands and a set wait of a month is set into action. Leaving the shack, Sao picks up pace, rushing the girl's feet at the same time. The girl's face rests in confusion; she speculates several reasons for Sao's sudden shift in speed. Looking up, Sao's face widens. His eyes refrain from seeing the sides as if wearing a curtain around his head. His body tenses, his breathing speeds up. His grip on the Girl's hand tightens to the point pain dominates.

'Ow, why are you acting funny?' the Girl reacts.

'Don't turn around, always look forward. I noticed it when we were in the sidewalk: something. I don't know what. Something is following us.'

'What! Why didn't you say this earli-?'

'Sssh, it's about 5 metres behind us. When I say so, run into the woods, about a kilometre west from here.'

'What about you?'

'Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you. It's getting closer, about 3 metres. 2. 1. Now, RUN!'