Chương 72: Chapter 046 Rust And Ribbons (Part 1)

Jack, Zia, and their mom wandered down cobbled lanes shaded by flowering trees. Baby Richard, strapped to their mother's chest in a woollen wrap, babbled nonsense while Zia held Jack's hand. It was early Friday morning—the day before the hunt—Jack was tagging along with his mother on an errand. At first, he'd been worried about running into the adventurers Linda and Sam. But they'd said they were going to go into hiding, so he thought there was little risk of running into them.

To be on the safe side, he wore a different hat than normal and made sure to hide his dark, messy hair. He also had his dagger hidden under his jacket, out of sight of his mom.

"Richard likes you." Their mom glanced at Zia.

"I like him too." Zia's face flushed a light pink.

"He makes funny faces and smells nice… most of the time." They all laughed. Jack leaned over and blew a raspberry at Richard, who squealed with laughter. They passed a street vendor selling caramelised nuts. Jack bought a large cone and crouched beside Zia, offering her the first pick.

"These are magic." He smiled.

"Try one." She picked a glossy almond and took a bite.

"Mm… It crackles, and it's sweet and smoky." Their mom told them stories from her days at the Marquis Banquet, how nobles insisted on food shaped like flowers, and how one Viscount thought butter was a kind of imported cheese.

"He offered me 2 gold to make him a butter-steak." She grinned. Jack snorted.

"Did you?"

"Of course not. I served him mashed potatoes and told him it was rustic mousse. He cried at the taste." Anna chuckled at the memory. Zia looked confused.

"What's a… rusty muse?"

"Rustic mousse," Anna corrected, "is what you call mashed potatoes when you're lying to a Viscount." She smiled.

"We'll make some meringues later, then you'll understand what mousse means." As they walked through the market, Anna stopped at various stalls, picking out herbs and spices, a few small trinkets, and a length of cloth that had caught her eye. Jack and Zia had just browsed a stand with art supplies. He'd bought the little girl a drawing pad and a bundle of coloured pencils. She held the new treasures tight to her chest, smiling like she'd won a prize at the fair.

Then, as they passed a merchant selling weapons, Jack felt her hand grip his like a vice. A very weak vice, given she was only eight. He glanced down to find her staring, stricken, at the merchant's stock. The half-eaten caramelised nut dropped from her hand, forgotten.

"Zia?" He crouched down beside her.

"Are you alright?" She didn't answer. Instead, she pointed a shaking finger towards the weapons on display.

"Th-that's Daddy's," her voice almost too faint to hear. Jack followed where she was pointing. There were multiple weapons for sale: a spear, a large sword, and a pair of daggers. But one stood out, a long blade leaning in a barrel, its surface spotted with rust. A frayed blue ribbon was tied just below the hilt. He glanced at the blue ribbon in Zia's hair. Then she buried her face in his shoulder and began to sob.

"That's my d-daddy's. That's my daddy's sword…" Jack pulled her close, cradling her as she shook. I have to keep her safe. She's important. He pressed his hand to the back of her head, brushing his fingers through her hair to comfort her. Anna arrived, a bag of fresh herbs and cooking supplies hanging from one hand. She stopped, brow furrowing.

"What happened?" Jack met her gaze, his voice low.

"Zia said something here…" he nodded towards the weapons, "was her dad's." Anna knelt, brushing a hand over Zia's back.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" Zia didn't speak. She only shook harder, pressing herself closer to Jack. Jack scooped her up, rising to his feet. The little girl wrapped herself around him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck as the rest of the world blurred away.

"It's alright," his voice wavered despite himself.

"I've got you. We've got you." He looked to his mom for help. Anna pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Zia's damp cheeks.

"We're here for you, love." She pressed her forehead to Zia's as the baby gurgled from the sling on her chest and waved tiny hands towards the crying girl's face. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Zia stopped crying for a moment, blinking down at the tiny hand brushing her skin, and gripped it as if it were a lifeline. For a few moments, they stayed like that.

Other shoppers passed by, brushing past the quiet scene, too wrapped up in their own business to notice the heartbreak in that tiny circle. Then Zia spoke, voice shaking.

"Th-that's Daddy's sword." She pointed towards the weapons again. Jack looked at the blade resting in the barrel. It was long, and the handle and scabbard looked well-made, but the guard was spotted with rust and scuffed from use. A blood-stained, faded blue ribbon was tied around the hilt. He felt a lump rise in his throat as he glanced at the matching ribbon in Zia's hair. Her mom and dad are dead. I have to keep her safe at any cost; she's important.

He remembered his own grief when he lost his family; he forced the rising tears behind a wall of practicality. He realised someone must have found Zia's father's sword and sold it here in Lundun. It wasn't an uncommon story. A caravan raided by goblins or bandits, a fallen warrior stripped of weapons and gear, another passing group salvaging what remained. Just another day in the Kingdom of Mercia. Jack drew a breath and waved towards the weapon.

"How much for the sword?" he called to the merchant. Zia tightened her grip around him as she watched.

"That's a fine blade, young man. 1 gold and 25 silver," the merchant replied with a glint in his eyes. It was far more than it was worth, but Jack didn't hesitate or haggle. He nodded.

"I'll take it." Fumbling one-handed in his coin purse, he counted out the coin and handed payment over. The merchant smiled and passed him the blade. Anna watched her son with a faint frown but said nothing. Jack adjusted Zia in his arms and showed her the weapon.

"It's alright." He smiled.

"I've got your daddy's sword. It's yours now." Through fresh tears, Zia smiled and pressed herself closer to him, brushing a tiny hand down the rust-spotted ribbon. Jack turned back to the merchant.

"Where did the sword come from?" The man shrugged.

"A young fellow, not much older than you, sold it to me as part of a batch a few days ago." Jack nodded while mentally noting the location of the merchant's stall.

"Is this your regular spot?" He gestured to the stall. The merchant smiled.

"We've been a fixture here for almost five years. Can I interest you in a dagger or a spear?" Jack shook his head and cast [Assassin's Mark] on the merchant. Healthy, smug, no armour, no protections. He frowned as his assassin's instincts stared. Anna stroked Zia's silver hair.

"We'll head home early." Jack tightened his grip around Zia as they started towards their home, the weight of the sword resting in one hand and the weight of the moment resting in his heart. Poor kid. Zia pressed her head to Jack's chest as he carried her home, while whispering words of comfort too faint for the bustling market to hear. Back home, Jack set Zia down and knelt beside her.

"Do you want me to clean your dad's sword? Make it as good as new?" Zia nodded.

"Is it all right to take the ribbon off to clean it?" His voice was soft; Jack had realised it must hold some special significance. Zia shook her head, her eyes widening in alarm. Anna stepped in, brushing Zia's hair out of her wet eyes.

"We'll clean the ribbon together, as we did with your own." She kissed the girl on the forehead.

"Then we can tie it back on afterwards." Zia swallowed hard and nodded. She watched Jack as he worked the ribbon loose from the hilt. Her hands clenched tight every time he pulled at a stubborn knot, as if fearing it might tear, losing this tiny piece of her lost family.

"There we go." Jack held the ribbon out to Zia. She snatched it and pressed it to her chest, burying her nose in its soft, frayed threads. It still carried faint traces of her parents' love, or perhaps that was only in her heart.

"I'm going to get all the rust off your dad's blade." Jack smiled.

"Do you want to watch?" Zia nodded, still cradling the ribbon like a treasure. Jack collected the whetstone he'd looted from the rat-faced rogue from his room. He returned to the kitchen and sank down in a quiet corner, out of Anna's way. Time passed as he worked, cleaning, sharpening, and oiling the steel until it shone in the light. He honed the edge and polished every inch of the sword. All the while, Zia was perched on a low stool watching.

Every few minutes, Anna glanced across, frowning before returning to her cooking.

"Do you want to clean the scabbard?" Jack offered her the muddy item. Zia hesitated before nodding. Jack passed the huge sheath to the little girl and instructed her on how to clean it while he continued to care for the blade. When the blade was done, they worked together on the sheath. She sat in his lap until the scabbard was sparkling clean. All the while, he explained how and why things were cleaned the way they were. Jack stood, pulling Zia up with him.

"There you go. All done." He smiled and sheathed the cleaned and oiled sword before passing it to her. Zia smiled and wrapped both arms around the huge weapon. It was over half her size, awkward and cumbersome; she pressed her face to the scabbard nonetheless, brushing a quiet kiss across its surface.

"Th-thank you, Jack." He smiled, brushing a hand down her hair.

"No problem, I enjoyed it. Maybe when you're older, you can learn to use the sword." Zia nodded, glancing down at the still-dirty ribbon in her hands, then towards her new mom.

"I guess that's my cue." Anna smiled.

"Jack, put the sword in your room until we're ready for it." Zia's face fell, terror and heartbreak rising in her eyes as if the blade were about to be taken from her forever. Her tiny fingers tightened around the scabbard. Jack sank down to her level.

"It'll be in my room whenever you want to see it. I promise. I'll keep it clean and oiled until you're old enough to do it yourself. You can help me with the scabbard. Okay?" She nodded, and after a long moment, relinquished the sword. Jack carried it to his room while Anna and Zia set about cleaning the blue ribbon. Together, mother and daughter dipped it in warm water, worked the grit and dried blood from its threads, and laid it on the warm stove to dry.