As had been their growing routine, Quartes had left one of his weapons nearby as he set off to gather wood to see their fire through the night.  There were three that he would set on the vigil, two swords and a shield.  It was often one of the swords that he left, but at times the shield would be sitting there.  What drove his choice Keto wasn’t sure.  With a look she saw today it was what she considered the more elegant of the swords.  A straight blade, that tapered to a fine point, a hilt sweeping out like a pair of outstretched wings.  It was unlike the Landian, with his simple sword, his cared for but worn boots, the outdated cut of his plain cloak.  In fact, each of the trio of weapons seemed different from what Quartes seemed to otherwise prefer to carry.  She supposed that he had seen plenty of things, that it wouldn’t be surprising that he had collected some strange items over time.

The minstrel looked towards where Quartes had headed off into the woods, gave the stew she was heating a stir, and then stepped over to the sword.  With another glance towards the woods she reached and picked up the weapon.  There was a weight to it but it was lighter than she had expected, an impressive balance that made the point dance around easily as she spun her wrist.  She lifted and swung the sword, taking it through a hamfisted cut, stumbling as the sword seemed to carry itself through the cut and back up for another.  As she righter herself, the blade snapped up, pulling her hand and arm along with it as it returned to a guard, drew back and thrust forward.

Keto gave a startled yell, dropping the sword.  Except that it didn’t fall, it hovered there before her.  After a moment, the blade dipped, the hilt waggling before her.  Keto, still a bit shocked, reached out towards the hilt but caught herself.  Quartes had emerged back from the woods , bundle of woods tucked under one arm, his simple sword drawn in his free hand.  His pale eyes looked about the camp, to her, and then to the floating sword.

“I’m guessing that’s normal for this?”  Keto gestured towards the sword, its hilt still now even as it continued to hover before her.

In a clean motion Quartes brushed aside the edge of his cloak and returned his sword to its sheath.  “Whenever it wants to,” he answered as he began piling the gathered wood before settling down by the fire.  The floating sword for its part returned to where it had been leaned up against a fallen log, settling back down as if nothing had happened.

“How did you make a sword move on its own?”
“It’s not something I did,” the Landian responded, “it’s of the sword’s accord.”

“Not seen other adventurers with floating swords,” Keto retorted.  Quartes didn’t answer and she filed that away for another time when she could get him to talk more.  From there they settled into what was the next part of their routine evenings.  She tended to the meal and he cared for some piece of gear or another.  Tonight it was the third of his swords, the curved one that he wore strapped to his pack along with apparently his floating sword.

“Do you know any tales about a huntress name Cheriss?” his voice nearly startled her as she stirred their stew.  She looked to him but the Landian was focused on running an oiled cloth along the long curve of the sword, she noted that there appeared to be letters or inscriptions along much of the blade.

“I do not,” Keto answered, straightening.  Quartes looked up from his work, looking back down he forced Keto to wait as he finished cleaning the seemingly spotless sword and then set it down by his side, resting it against his pack.  Folding his hands into his lap, the Landian looked back to her as he leaned forward and started.

“She was one of the bravest warriors I’ve know in my time.  A hunai, she was as driven as any of my kin in her hunts against Dragons and their spawns.  Most of the others that followed me had been found by my kin, or brought their people to us as the stories of our battles spread.  Cheriss I found in a forest as I was hunting a hagerc.  I only realized that the dragonkin was fleeing to its Dragon when the creature lunged out a cave.  The thing that stopped its maws from closing in around was the spear that Cheriss lodged in its eye.”

“That was the first time of many that she saved me,” his gaze had left Keto and shifted to look down to the haversack by his side and the curved sword strapped there.  “A spear was her preferred weapon for Dragons but when the fighting got close and frantic she would use a blade like that one.”  Quartes cleared his throat as he looked back up, “Of all those from my Cycle, she killed more Dragons than anyone save myself and Lehn.”

“What happened to her?” Keto’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“The Cycle was ending,” Quartes started, his hands fidgeting in his lap now, “and I was making a push for the Archdragon.  She was at my side, one of a few as our numbers had dwindled over the day.  A pair of Dragons were going to catch us before we could reach our goal and she led everyone but Elhandriel and I to hold them off.”  Quartes looked up, meeting Keto’s gaze with a grim smile.  “She gave us time to fight the Archdragon.  That was the last I ever saw of her.”

“She sounds like quite the hero,” Keto responded, her mind already wondering at what kind of story she could tell of Cheriss, assuming she could get some more details out of the Landian.

“I found her sword decades later,” the Landian nodded towards the curved blade resting against his pack.  “Still embedded in the Dragon’s skull, still trying to end it.”  Keto looked towards the sword now, her mind thinking of the other sword and the shield.She opened her mouth to say it, that the Landian was carrying around mementos of his friends and that they were somehow still protecting him, but Quartes had drawn his own sword and with an oiled cloth was slowly polishing it.

“They must’ve cared for you very much,” Keto settled on instead.  Quartes’ hands paused for a moment but he then nodded.  “Cared enough to take care of you even now.”