The next morning, Malton slipped out of his room. The house was unusually quiet. The hearth had gone cold, and the table was empty. His chest tightened.
— Father's not here…
Following the rhythmic thud of an axe, he stepped into the clearing. Gérard swung at an old oak, each strike fueled by force and frustration.
— No need to hide, he said without looking up. I know you're there.
Malton lowered his gaze.
— Father… I…
— Stop thinking about it, Gérard cut him off. Yesterday… it was nothing. But the sword is dangerous. Too dangerous.
Malton clenched his fists.
— It's nothing…
Catching his breath, Gérard added:
— By the way… pick up my order from the bakery. Take your brother with you.
Malton searched the house for Eduard: room, living room… only the hill near their home remained.
— Eduard! Eduard!
At the top, he found his brother lying still.
— What are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere!
— …
— What's wrong?
Eduard turned his face.
— You're a liar.
— Seriously? Is that why I can't become a swordsman?
— My problem is that you're giving up your dream. And I won't accept that.
Malton grabbed him by the shoulder.
— I could do something else…
— But that's not what you truly want.
Silence. Then Eduard's lips curved into a smile:
— You want to become a swordsman like Mom… and I'll be the one forging your sword. I'll be your blacksmith.
He extended his fist. Malton met it with his own.
— Then let's go buy some bread.
Sunlight streamed through the forest, each beam highlighting the fragile peace between them.
----
At the bakery, Sacha, the owner's daughter, greeted them with a warm smile.
— Here for our father's order.
— His name?
— Gérard.
— Right away.
Eduard, captivated by Sacha's grace, stammered:
— It's… disgusting, you know that.
— She's way too beautiful, he murmured.
Sacha returned with the bread.
— Talking about someone? Got a girlfriend yet?
— He was talking about you, Malton said.
Blushing, Eduard cursed himself silently: traitor…
— Thank you, Sacha said, smiling.
— Will you marry me? Eduard blurted awkwardly.
Sacha laughed.
— You're far too small for me. Have a nice day!
On their way back, a merchant tried selling a sword to a hooded man. Eduard stopped.
— Don't buy it!
— Why? Malton asked.
— It's worn!
The merchant drew a knife. The hooded man froze.
— How do you know?
— Test it on this wood—it'll snap!
Seeing Eduard's determination, the man agreed. The sword shattered instantly. Furious, the merchant lunged at them.
— Run! Malton shouted, and the boys bolted into the forest.
----
Exhausted, they finally stopped.
— Keep running!
— I'm dead… I can't… Eduard panted.
Malton, catching his breath:
— How did you know the sword was worn?
— I saw it…
Malton blinked, confused.
— What do you mean, you saw it?
— Didn't you?
Silence. Then Eduard asked:
— Keep running?
— No… I think we lost them.
— Tomorrow, by the lake, we train with the sword. You in?
— Absolutely, Eduard smiled.
The next day, by the lake, Malton swung at wooden dummies while Eduard watched, ready to help if needed.
Malton collapsed, exhausted.
— Let's head back.
---
Back home, the door was wide open.
— Why is the door open? Eduard thought.
Inside, blood stained the floor.
— Father! Malton shouted.
Eduard was grabbed from behind.
— Let me go!
The merchant from yesterday appeared, a cruel grin on his face.
— You ruined my business. No one wants my weapons now.
— Serves you right, Eduard replied, biting his finger to break free.
The merchant chuckled.
— I see… still showing confidence, even while your father…
Eduard pointed.
— Where's my father?
The merchant motioned with a guard. In the distance, Gérard was tied up and tortured.
— Father!
— He can't hear you… he's probably… gone.
The men laughed. Eduard, furious, summoned a long dagger and charged. He dodged attacks, but a mercenary struck him from behind.
Just as the mercenaries moved in for the kill, a violent force struck them: one lost a leg, another an eye. Malton had arrived.