“Skilled, but sloppy.”

  “Teach me then.”

  “You can’t be taught.”

  “I’ve already learned—” The warrior cuts off Smith’s remark with the swift ssh of a stone bde.

  “You have learned nothing.” The stone meets metal.

  Smith twists away from the ssh and lunges forward with Branaphis’s bde. “I beg to differ.”

  “Begging is unhonorable.” The warrior parries the lunge. Smith grunts as they are struck backward into the armory’s wall.

  “I am not here to offer answers to feeble tourists,” The warrior sneers. Cassandra begins to step over to help Smith to their feet. Mystic stops her. “Do that and you’ll set back the entire day’s worth of progress.”

  Cassandra gres at Mystic yet returns to her position beside her nonetheless. She looks to Anvil to see if he’ll protest, but he continues to watch the fight with intense concentration. His eyes narrow as Smith stands.

  They grip the hilt of the bde and pnt their feet firmly on the floor. The warrior looks at them bnkly. Smith raises the sword toward him in a calm stance. The gesture shows a clear message and a clear challenge.

  The warrior shrugs. “Very well then.” He rushes forward with the assistance of his smooth tail. Smith knows that they aren’t fast enough or skilled enough to outmaneuver the natural speed of a Squideel. That’s why they have to time this perfectly.

  Smith kneels down the instant they see the warrior rush forward. They hold the bde out to their side with one hand on the hilt and the other on the pommel. They close their eyes. This is going to hurt. It does.

  The scar on their palm stings with pain as the pommel is driven against it. Smith opens their eyes. They twirl Branaphis’s sword and rise to see the wide gash left by the iron. The warrior rammed himself right into the bde without even stopping to look.

  “Skilled,” Smith states. “But sloppy.” They toss the sword to Anvil. He sheaths it with a look that Cassandra thinks may be contempt.

  The warrior ughs. “Well done.”

  Cassandra and Mystic are told to wait outside of the armory as Squideel servants flock into it. Mystic is reluctant, but Cassandra is able to drag her out with the same thing Mystic had previously told her: “Do that and you’ll set back the entire day’s worth of progress,” for the group has indeed made significant progress today.

  And it’s all thanks to Smith.

  “What do you mean, kill Adamus Atheneum?” Cassandra had asked them st night against the rolling tide.

  “I mean, I’m considering it.” Smith shrugged. “How else does it sound?”

  “It sounds like you aren’t considering it at all.” Cassandra folded her arms. “It sounds like you already have your mind set on going through with it.”

  Smith turned away from the pile of failed bows without arrows. “I don’t even know where he is.” They wrapped the bandana around their palm. “I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  Cassandra lowered her head, mumbling, “I know you told us Adamus killed Nadeden, but he’s also her son. I doubt that she—”

  “That she what?” Smith scoffed, “That she would want me to do it?” They began to walk down the beach and back up the hill. “I know that. This is for myself. I’ve thought it through, Cassandra. My conscience can’t be clear until Adamus is dead.”

  “Have you really thought it through?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  “A lot.”

  “How much is a lot?”

  Smith turned back to Cassandra once they reached the top of the hill. “A lot.”

  Cassandra locked eyes with them. The eyes were pleading ones. Sorrowful ones. Smith sighed, “So I take it you aren’t going to help me then.”

  Cassandra knew that she couldn’t talk Smith out of this. That much was clear. So what could she do?

  She honestly understood Smith. If she had the means to do so, she would probably seek out and kill Vanessa. The problem is that doing so would put her at odds with her Father as well. Smith is different in that regard. They have nothing to lose. Nothing except— “No, Smith, I won’t help you, and neither will Mystic or Anvil. You do know that, right?”

  Cassandra had hoped that Smith would at least feel something at the idea of abandoning their brother and sister. Her hopes died with their next words. “I know, Cassandra. I haven’t even told them about this. I don’t think that they would even care.”

  “Of course they would care.”

  Smith raised an eyebrow. “Really? Mystic was the one who told me that not all life is precious. I doubt she cares about anything that isn’t reted to us Machinists.”

  Cassandra had to admit that Smith was right about Mystic. It’s no secret that the girl has something seriously wrong with her. During their first few weeks on Ourobeel, when Smith was so grief-stricken that they hardly even spoke, Mystic was the one with the least sympathy for their situation by far. However, she has been kind to Cassandra. Awfully kind.

  “I didn’t think that you would be so against me,” Smith said once they saw that Cassandra hadn’t moved.

  “I’m not, it's just—” She kicked her foot against the cliffside and entered the forest with Smith. “Have you changed your mind since Rome? Do you think that everyone deserves to live now? Even if they’re as horrid and reckless as Adamus?”

  “No.” Cassandra shook her head as she picked up her pace. “I just—” She had to admit it as much as it pained her to do so, and as much as she knew Smith would hate her for it, she had to admit that “Adamus is my friend.”

  Smith stopped walking.

  A Qrow nded in a palm tree above the pair. The flutter of its wings were the only sound in the night until Smith asked, “Why? I mean, I know you were going to marry him, but didn’t you tell me that was all just a ploy that Vanessa agreed to?”

  Cassandra didn’t know why, she still doesn’t, at least not completely. But she did know that Adamus was on her side back in Rome.

  He also has every right to despise Vanessa as much as she does. The woman killed his Father after all. Adamus probably doesn’t know that, though.

  He probably thinks he settled everything by killing Nadeden. The thought of that possibility made Cassandra want to take back what she had just said, but she couldn’t help but recall everything Adamus had done. Then she realized that he had indeed done more bad than good. But one fact remained. One justification that Cassandra hated, and still hates. “Because,” She said, “He’s one of the only friends I have.”

  Smith was silent at that. They wondered how Triminiv and Shanna were doing. They’re the only other people they might have left. Would they call Smith their friend? Did it matter?

  No. It didn’t. Not to Smith anyway. They sighed at Cassandra’s statement. “I understand,” was all they said to her before moving deeper into the forest.

  Cassandra followed but lost track of Smith when she returned to where Anvil and Mystic were sleeping. She thought to search for them, but the day’s exhaustion weighed heavily upon her. She yawned and fell asleep with her violin in her arms. She didn’t even notice that Branaphis’s bde was missing.

  The palm trees rustled in the distance, the Qrow called out once more, and the night was further interrupted as Smith drew a sword on the mother of its former owner.

  She awoke in her bed with the edge of the bde hanging over her throat. “When my companions met with you earlier today, you made a point to explicitly state that you couldn’t tell them about the bde’s markings.”

  The woman rose from her bed at the words. Her long green body stretched and snapped into pce to view them. Her four eyes squinted in the dark as Smith demanded, “Tell me where you got the sword itself then.”

  She told them, and then Smith told the group, and they headed out to meet the armorer Varaphis at dawn.

  When they arrived, Varaphis said he would only reveal the information to the group if one of them proved themselves worthy of it.

  And so Smith took up the runed bde and began to battle Varaphis.

  Now, Smith watches with Anvil as Varaphis has his wounds tended to by his female servants. His many female servants.

  “So you wish to learn the origin of your bde?” Varaphis asks as a servant winds a long bandage around his cut abdomen.

  Smith nods. Anvil holds out the sword and unsheathes it to reveal the runes of ones and zeroes. “Tell us about these runes first.” He bluntly demands. Smith grips Anvil’s hand and forces it down with the sword. “It’s fine if you don’t know about those.” They tell Varaphis, “Just start by telling us about the sword itself.”

  Anvil sheathes the sword and squints at Smith’s words. Smith either doesn’t notice the judgment or doesn’t care. Varaphis ughs regardless. “You’re far more clever than your brother. You know that answers don’t come easy and that one must put in effort to accomplish something.” He rises from his seat. His servants slither away clumsily.

  “You also know…” Varaphis smiles, “That people like me don’t always have the best of intentions.”

  Smith stares into Varaphis’s four eyes. “People never have the best of intentions.”

  Varaphis ughs again and sps Smith’s shoulder. “I like this one.” He announces to his servants. Smith scowls as the servants trade uncomfortable looks, “The sword.”

  Varaphis huffs, “Right. I did forge it, before the Rusting, of course. Made it for that human fellow who took a liking to us. I liked him. Honorable type, he was. Conquering type. Much like yourself. Said it was to be given to that halfbreed love child of his once the thing came of age. Abomination that it was. I take it that since you have the bde, the thing is dead?”

  Smith and Anvil both nod.

  Varaphis smirks. “Honorable.” He slithers towards a rack of swords, looking at them with a clear, deep longing. “As for the runes,” He sighs. “I truly don’t know how they got on the bde.”

  Another dead end, Smith thinks, more annoyed than frustrated.

  Anvil frowns. “You’re absolutely sure that you don’t know anything about them? You don’t even know that those runes are ancient Machinist code?”

  “Machinist?” The word draws Varaphis’s attention away from the rack of old stone and wood weapons. “As in the ancient machines? Huh…”

  He taps his chin. His long tail taps the floor as well.

  “Come to think of it, a friend of mine, another I liked, different type though less honorable, more clever and cunning, he smelted the metal I used to forge that bde and sold it to me. He talked a great deal about it, made a great deal out of it as well. A grand deal. He boasted of its importance over and over until I could hardly stand the sound of his voice. Needless to say, because of his constant bbbering, I paid little attention to what he actually said. However, he did speak of the ancient machines. Cimed that’s where he got the metal I made that bde from. When I pulled it from the fire, it already had those runes written on it.”

  The female servants are silent. The two Machinists are silent as well. Anvil’s eyes are wide though. Very wide. Smith shrugs. “So? What was the man’s name?”

  Varaphis slithers back to his chair as Anvil runs outside. Varaphis slumps down on the wide cushion. His women gather around him again as he says, “Kaga. Ryomen, Kaga.”

  The door bursts open.

  “Tell us where to find him,” Mystic orders with a stomp.

  Varaphis rises once more, “The women were to wait out—” Mystic leaps atop Varaphis and grips his throat. The servants all slither backward in terror. Some of them flee outside. Smith rushes over to Mystic, “Get off him!”

  “What? Before he makes you fight him again and sets us back even further? We’ve come too far, Smith, he’s telling us everything now, one way or another.”

  “He was already going to!”

  Varaphis cws at Mystic's hands and nods, “I was already going to—”

  Mystic’s grip tightens. Varaphis begins to choke and cough. Mucus sputters out of his lips. His green flesh pops and contorts around Mystic’s hands, threatening to slip out of her grip. “Mystic,” Cassandra enters, pleading, “I know you’re frustrated, but-”

  “You know nothing, Cassandra! Now tell me where the man who gave you our metal is, Squideel!”

  Varaphis coughs, unable to respond. Mystic squeezes tighter around his malleable neck.

  “Tell. Me.” She demands.

  Smith clenches a fist. Cassandra looks on in terror, gritting her teeth as she watches the horror unfold. Smith prepares to reach out to Mystic, but Anvil stops them. “Sister.” He says, “Dead men can’t speak.”

  Mystic gres at him. Anvil uses the distraction of his statement to pull her off Varaphis. She kicks and protests as the Squideel recims his breath.

  “You’re… All… *huff*... Crazy.” He states through heavy breaths. “Terra, *huff* Draxus.” He pounds the table beside him and grasps his neck. As he ys back down, he pops his green skin back into pce. “Terra fucking Draxus, that’s where Kaga lives. Satisfied?”

  “Very.” Mystic states with her arms folded after Anvil sets her back down.

  Smith gnces at their brother, sister, and Cassandra, all the while thinking about how true Varaphis’s previous statement is.

  Everyone here is indeed crazy.