"I'm sure we can, and I'm sure you will, but I want you t'be prepared. You may be surprised t'see how different it is out there, when the sun is beating down on you, and you have walked since dawn. I have spent a great deal of time in both--don't think I seek t'daunt or mislead you." She then gathered her things and rose to her feet.

"Well, come along," Rose said, and left the shop. She stood outside it for a few moments, gazing at the old brick exterior, and then from one of her many pockets, removed what looked almost like a stick of charcoal, and besides the door, she drew an upside-down five pointed star besides the door. She filled in the star, so it was all black, and then she drew a circle around it. To the left of the circle she added a crescent moon, and to the right added triangles, so it resembled the meeting of the sun on the moon. A similar design she wore on her pin, but the star was facing upwards. She sighed, and made her way down the street, after making sure Brant was with her, "We'll have to find you a weapon. I don't know what we'll face, and, well," She paused, not wanting to offend her companion, but not knowing how else to phrase her message, "you don't particularly seem skilled with your firsts. I have a knife, but a good dagger would be better. I'm not sure if you have sword training, but even if you do, I can't loan you my sword--you cannot wield it. And anyway, it is not mine to give."
 
She glanced at him. Then started talking and giving him validation by saying she thought he could do it, then took it away by saying that the world was different out there. She claimed it was different since the sun was beating down on you and you have to start to walk around dawn. She apparently didn’t want to mislead him. It’s like she kept forgetting he lived on his own on what was practically the streets. He was sure he could walk for three days.

She started packing up and left, and he shoved everything in his pockets and scrambled after her. Once he got to the front door, he shouted a thank you to the woman in the back, hoping she heard his thanks. He exited the building and saw Rose looking at the building. He then watched as she removed a piece of charcoal and besides the door, she drew an upside-down 5-pointed star. After she had finished, she then filled the star in, making it black. Then, she drew a circle around it adding a crescent moon, and to the right; she added triangles. When she finished, the image looked bizarre, but also pretty and fascinating. He wasn’t sure what the picture resembled, but he was sure it had meaning behind it. He was so fixed on the picture he didn’t even notice she walked away until she prompted him to hurry. He took one last look at the picture and jogged as fast as he could to catch up with her. As soon as he caught up, she started saying they needed to find him a weapon. To her, he wasn’t skilled using his fists, which had truth to it but she poorly worded it. Apparently, the best weapon for him would be a dagger. Or a sword, but the sword she had was not hers to give. Or she knew he didn’t know how to wield it and thought he would do poorly with it. He didn’t care what weapons he had; he was focused on the drawing.

When she finished talking, he completely ignored what she was talking about and asked about the drawing. ¨Rose, we can talk about that later, right now I’m curious to know what the drawing meant.¨ He asked cautiously,
 
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"It's a shadowmark, or the--secret language of my people. I mean--" she gestured to the star she wore on her chest, "it's easy t'go years without seeing each other, so we have t'communicate by others means. That one," she nodded back towards the building, "means rangers are not welcome. Any ranger who comes t'Oderfeld will see it and know to look for another apothecary. She may be a lovely woman under other circumstances, but I didn't trust her, and she didn't seem particularly enthused about me, either. We have an entire alphabet--we can have entire conversations in two symbols, which t'those who can't interpret them are utterly meaningless."

She glanced at Brant, but didn't break her stride. She was walking quickly for someone who still technically had an open wound, but it wasn't a moment to take her time, "If we can find a pawn shop t'find a dagger for you, it would be good. The knife I have isn't really for fighting, it's probably too fragile for fighting. Then again--" she chuckled, "neither was the dagger I now carry. If only I knew if it was safe for you to use, it would save us a stop. But finding information on it would take too long."

As she walked, she glanced quickly at all of the buildings until she noted one with a snake coiled around a staff painted on the sign, "Here," she said, and walked up to the front door. In charcoal, on the doorframe, was a similar sign to what she had left on the apothecary's door, except the star was not filled in, and was pointed upright, and below it was a rising sun. Both signs were clearly much older, and looked as if the charcoal had almost become part of the wood itself, "See, here? Rangers welcome, and medicinal. We'll face less trouble here."
 
He half walked, half limped, trying to keep pace with Rose as she explained what the drawing was. The Elven people had a full alphabet and their own language. But it differed from English because the alphabet was only symbols. It was fascinating. He zoned out and only came to when Rose slowed and he was ahead. He walked back a few paces and looked at the small star badge Rose was pointing at on her chest. She then pointed towards the building, explaining it meant that Rangers were not welcome there. Any ranger in Oderfeld will see the sign and look for another apothecary. To her, the lady didn’t seem trustworthy or enthused about her. To anyone else, the symbols would be insignificant.

He kept pace with Rose and didn’t break her stride, trying to walk as fast as he could manage with the hurt leg. And as she walked, she was talking about the next topic. She was talking about getting him a weapon again just this time, Rose figured out where they could get him a semi-cheap dagger without giving up her “fragile sword.”And the dagger was "too dangerous” and digging up the information would take too long, meaning one more stop for them. The pawnshop. He had never seen a pawnshop in the city, so that would be a journey.

We continued walking a little further until Rose stopped. She stopped in front of a building that had a snake coiling a staff on the sign.
“Here,” she said, then walked up to the front door, and he saw a drawing similar to the last one; this time, whoever drew it didn’t color it in and the star pointed upright. Below it was a setting sun. They drew it on the door frame, and it looked like it had been there a while. She pointed to it and told him the symbol meant rangers were welcome and it was medicinal. He looked at her and stepped ahead, opening the door and entering. He always felt the need to go first to protect her? He wasn’t sure. But if there was a threat, it was better he was hurt, not her. He stepped in and waited in the doorway for her.
 
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Rose raised an eyebrow as she walked into the building after Rose. Brant always seemed to enter before she did, and she couldn't fathom why. If there was danger ahead, it would be much easier for her to fight them off. Brant was a skilled human shield, sure, but in Rose's estimation, sending the capable fighter in first would save them the most trouble in the long run. Oh well.

The inside of the building was clean and well-lit, but small, with only a few adults dressed all in yellow scurrying around the largely empty room. A few beds were beneath the windows, and most were filled with the ill or wounded. Rose noted as she entered, none of the men they had fought earlier were in the beds. She approached one of the women who seemed to be the least busy and barely needed to explain she was wounded before being led to one of the open beds.

"Come on, Brant," Rose said as she followed the woman and explained, "He needs aid as I do. I couldn't do much for him in my state. And there's a shard in my arm, it's poisoned, but I don't know with what. I did my best t'treat it on my own, but I think I only slowed the poison, I didn't neutralize it."

"And your friend?"

"No poison, they didn't use weapons on him--only fists. Have any come through here?" Rose asked, and then described their assailants. The woman paused, and then explained two had tried, but were turned away.

"We know their type around here," She said, "We don't like turning anyone away, but those folk? We fear they are friends to the starless night, if you understand me."

"I do. And I knew it without you saying so. This is a dagger they carried," She revealed the weapon she bore, but as with the woman in the apothecary, would not suffer it to be handled, "Do you know it?"

The woman shook her head, "I know only that it confirms the troubles in my mind. Meneldur may know more, but we can ask him after you both are healed." She then pulled a curtain close, for privacy, and bid Brant and Rose to allow her to treat their wounds.
 
A few seconds later, Rose entered the building. She had a confused look on her face. Confused why he always went ahead of her. He just wanted to protect her from danger in any way he could to pay back her kindness. He would rather die than admit it but he liked her and thought of her as a friend. He just didn’t want her to get hurt again after everything she has done for him. Even though he disliked her attitude and outlook on life.

The inside of the building was a lot brighter than the mages was. But It was also a little smaller. It was mostly empty except for the few adults dressed in yellow and a few sick and injured people placed beneath the windows. He did a quick sweep to see if anyone he knew was here and spotted no one. He glanced over at Rose and saw she was doing the same thing, and by her expression, she also saw no one. After one more sweep of the room, she started walking over to the woman dressed in yellow, telling her they needed a bed.

The woman looked at them and saw their condition, eventually agreeing to let them have a bed. As they walked over to the bed, Rose explained what happened and what kind of attention they needed.

Rose tried to inform the woman as much as she could, telling them about his injuries. Telling them how she only slowed the poison and didn’t neutralize it.

¨And your friendl¨ the woman asked.

¨No poison, they didn’t use weapons on him—only fists.¨ She said. She also asked if their attackers had been through and, to his horror, the woman said yes. He started eyeing the exit, preparing to bolt. His hands were clammy and he could feel himself sweating, his breaths were getting rapid. But he didn’t let the woman finish and when he did, he found out the woman turned them down. Which calmed him down.

Apparently, the men were friends with members of the starless night. Another thing he didn’t understand and would have to ask about.

Once they got to the area, Rose took the dagger out and held it at arm’s length, which was enough to see it. But just because it was visible did not mean it wasn’t secure. He could see her knuckles turning white so he knew the only way anyone was getting it was by prying it out of her cold dead hands ¨do you know it.¨ she asked. And to his demise, she didn’t. But a positive is she knew a guy named Meneldur who she thought might know more. And after getting help, she said we could go see him.

After the two finished conversing, the woman pulled the curtains closed and started getting to work first on Rose. There was a small metal table with three tray-like layers sporting all kinds of medical things. He slumped on the ground, closing his eyes for a few moments while waiting his turn
 
After taking her supplies from where they were stowed, the healer stepped away for a few moments, and when she returned, Rose removed her shirt so the healer could have access to her wound, and sat calmly while her wound was tended to. It certainly was not the first time she had been in this position: she didn't even flinch while the healer began to stitch her wound after some small but fragrant flowers were ground together and applied to the wound.

"I spoke briefly to Meneldur," She said, "and he told me what to use for this. Galenas," she said, "It should be enough." Rose thanked her, and then the healer turned to the aid of Brant

"Well--you're certainly not as roughed up as you look," She chuckled, while examining him, "that's good. You'll be back in fighting shape before you know it." After Brant was fixed up, the healer excused herself, and a few moments later returned with an older man. He walked with a cane, but his eyes were bright. Unlike everyone else, he didn't wear yellow. Instead, he dressed about the way anybody out in the street would.

"These are them," The healer said, "they're the ones curious about... You know." The man sighed, and pulled up a chair besides the beds without a word.

"You can go," He said to the healer, "but make sure no one else can hear us. Hm. Well," He looked at Rose and Brant, "The dagger belongs to a group called the N
âlu Zadan. I can't tell you what they want. I don't even know--but the magic they use, the sigils they leave behind... well, it reminds me of--"

"The helm." Rose said gravely.

"Yes."

Rose inhaled slowly, and then ran her hands over her face, "But those of that order died. They were defeated."

"You defeated Terthaithiel, not all of her servants."

"Terthaithiel wasn't Agannâluthani, though."


Meneldur furrowed his brows, "And what makes you think the Nâlu Zadan are?"

"Nâlu and Zadan are both Agannâ words--and the blade," Rose replied, "what should I think?"

"Well..." Meneldur paused for a moment, and then said, "There are many groups working for malice out in the world, regardless of if we like to consider it or not. It's been many years since the Helm. Multiple groups may fold into one, and the current point of origin may be lost. I suspect you oppose them?"

"What else would I do?"

"And the boy?"

"He's with me. For a time."

Meneldur nodded, and sat silently for a few moments with his eyes closed. Rose looked over her shoulder at Brant, but didn't say anything. Finally the old man spoke again, "More of the Garb of Gwânen has been, hasn't it? You should not linger here."
 
He lied on the floor trying to rest his eyes and only opened them when he heard footsteps walking away. He thought it might have been Rose leaving him, but as the footsteps faded away; he glimpsed the healer’s shoes. The ones he saw earlier. And when she returned, he saw a shirt fall to the floor and knew the healer was tending to Rose’s wounds. As the healer did her thing, he heard no noises of pain or discomfort from her. Only the sounds of the healer working on her.

When he no longer heard the metallic clicking that told him stitches were being put in he smelt the fragrance of flowers. The woman said when she went to the back; she talked to the man whose name was apparently Meneldur. He suggested something for Rose, which was Galenas.

After she finished with Rose, he heard the squeaky footsteps walking over to him. He sat up before she got over to him to show respect. After all, she was trying to help him.

“Well--you’re certainly not as roughed up as you look,” she said as she came over and examined him. She said he would be in fighting shape before he knew it and did little other than giving him a few bandages and some potions for pain. And after that, she left again.

When the woman returned once more, she brought alongside her an older-looking man who leaned against a cane for support. He had bright eyes and, unlike everyone else in the building, Meneldur was dressed in normal street clothes. And when he talked, it wasn’t like others. His voice wasn’t gravely or shaky. His voice was like the whistle of birds. Harmonious and youthful.

He asked if these were the people and asked if we were the ones with the question. After a quick confirmation, he pulled up a chair next to the bed giving a sigh as he did so. He told the healer she could go and told her to make sure no one could hear us.

As soon as she left, he started spewing information. Right away, he told us the dagger belonged to a group of people called Nâlu Zadan. Not even he knew what they wanted or what magic they used. But the sigils remind him of the helm. Which Rose also knew.

He listened to the conversation, intrigued. He listened to them talk about how he defeated the Terthaithiel but not everyone in it. And then he lost track. They were just saying a bunch of useless names that had no meaning to him. He was getting so irritated at not knowing anything and being in the dark. It made him feel stupid and like a pet to Rose.

When the man finished talking and finished saying something about Garb of Gwânen he talked.

He stood up, fists by his side, and said ¨I’m not doing this anymore. You guys will either explain to me what’s going on and how much danger I’m getting myself into, or I will leave. I need to know everything about these people and the history behind it. I’m not going to sit her clueless anymore. And if I leave, I hope you know how much power you just gave me. Just because I don’t know what any of this means doesn’t mean I can’t recite it.¨ he said, sitting back down on the floor, waiting for the explanation he deserved.
 
Rose sat up a little straighter, and then turned with a look of mild surprise on her face towards Brant, "What do you mean?" She asked, "What have I kept from you? You know we seek the Shield, and that it's powerful, but dangerous. And you know--at least in brief--the history of the Hidden City, I told it t'you, and from what I recall, your response was, 'why do I need to know this?' You can't hold me responsible if you chose t'shut your ears t'me when I spoke. And what Meneldur and I speak of now, well, the Helm is part of history, so we have not kept it from you. Terthaithiel and her order are not secrets, and I am learning of the Nâlu Zadan at the same time as you... but if it is not enough for you..."

She turned around, and folded her hands in her lap. Her face was grave, "Many years ago, long before even your grandparents were born, Terthaithiel discovered the Helm of Gwânen, which afforded the wearer great knowledge, and the ability to deceive, as well as protection from disease, and resistance to flame. Using the Helm, she waged war, and those who lived in the region were decimated by plague, and by fires, and even the strongest were turned into thralls. Terthaithiel had her followers, who desired to have her as their leader, and she sought dominion over all. For five years war waged, until finally her tower was thrown down, the Helm was reclaimed, and Terthaithiel was slain. The region of fighting is still beset by monsters, and little life thrives there... and once it had been a lush valley. I fought in the war, along with most of my friends, many of whom did not return home." Rose paused for a moment, and looked away from Brant for a few moments. She was the only one in the room who had actually lived through the events, rather than simply learning about them in school.

While she collected her thoughts, Meneldur spoke, "The Shield absorbs all magic, and can be abused as the Helm was, and all the power it stores can be cast back out and weaponized. If it is found by this new group, or by any with ill-intent, we could well be cast into a second darkness. That is the danger you are in."
 
She gave him a smug look and sat up straighter. She had a look on her face, which was a mix of surprise and irritation. She then turned to him and spoke in a slightly agitated voice. “What do you mean? What have I kept from you?” She scoffed, listing everything she had told him. As she continued to talk, he agreed with her. She told him information, but in moments like these, she talked and talked without giving him any information. Everything she just told Meneldur made no sense, and he deserved the right to know what he was putting himself into. She was keeping things from him and knew it. And he would not be clueless. He wanted to know information.

He noticed she paused and looked at him, so he turned to face her better. Her face was expressionless and grave, but she started talking. She explained more about a corrupted man named Terthaithiel and his greed for great knowledge. He was after the Helm of Gwânen, which granted him the abilities to deceive, protect from disease, and resistance to flames. Which was good to know, but it still felt like she didn’t tell him everything she told Meneldur. But it wasn’t worth it to push it and piss her off, so he stayed quiet. He just wished she didn’t think he was too dim to understand all the history. She continued her story, talking about all the fighting that happened and how she became involved in the war. And apparently, the area where all the fighting happened still had monsters. He felt sorry that Rose lost her friends in battle, but that was what they were sent to do. He didn’t know what to say, so instead of saying anything, he just sat there in silence, trying to muster up the courage to talk. He wanted to say sorry for what happened but also ask questions. He just didn’t want to appear insensitive.

Before he could speak, Meneldur beat him to the chase. ” The Shield absorbs all magic and can be abused as the Helm was,” He said, explaining that people can use magical items as weapons which was something he already knew. He stood up and this time he looked Rose and Meneldur dead in the face and spoke. ¨I’m sick of not knowing, but if you think it’s better that I know the bare minimum, then fine. But I am going and I will do what it takes to help you hear me? ¨ He said, sitting back down.
 
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Upon hearing Brant complain about only knowing the bare minimum, Rose's face hardened as she tried to not appear frustrated with him, "Brant, you must understand--there is limited information on the armor and sword of Gwânen. They were forged and enchanted in the first age, centuries before today, by the Elf-Smiths of old who had skill greater than any we know today. How they were forged remains a mystery, and how they were enchanted is even less clear. What we know, or say we know, about their power, comes from old poetry and legends. We have recovered some of the pieces, the Helm, as you now know, but also the gauntlets and the boots, but the cuirass, sword, and shield are still, t'this day, lost. We are tracking the shield, but the sword and cuirass are still lost t'us. We have no idea where they are--nobody does. And although we have theories about the power they possess, we don't know with any true certainty, and we assuredly do not know what will happen if the power is abused or manipulated. It isn't that I'm purposely keeping you in the dark, it's that the most learned scholar--which even I am not--is in the dark. The preeminent scholar on the history of these artifacts has a lantern at most, and I have a single, lit matchstick. Nothing is an attack on you, and nobody is trying to mislead you. And as for Terthaithiel--for some of us, the events of those years are still raw, and has not yet faded into history. What else do you hope for me t'say? What enlightenment do you seek? What questions do you have? If you wish still t'come with me, you are welcome t'it, come with me, learn with me, do as thou wilt, but understand in this life, and in this work, there are, and always will be, more questions than answers. Everything is darkness. Every moment is spent wishing I knew more, but the core of what I do is removing the veil between myself and the shadow, and the mysteries which there reside."

She stopped, and took a breath, and tucked her hair behind her ears. For a few moments she sat with her eyes closed, recentering herself, and then she turned to Meneldur, "With what you know about this new organization, would you say the dagger is dangerous?"

The older man shrugged his shoulders, and sort of squinted at the dagger for a few moments, before gingerly lifting it and washing it in the same salves used to cure Rose of her poison. As he did so, he softly chanted over it. Then he handed it back to Rose, "I've cleansed it," he said, "if there is a deeper curse upon it, I never sensed it, so I suspect it's safe enough. It is ceremonial, to be sure, but not enchanted."

"Thank you," Rose said, and as she did so, she handed the dagger to Brant without a word, "for everything. We have a long march ahead of us. It may be three days through the forest to arrive at the next town, but it's nearly two days before arriving beneath the trees. We must make haste."
 
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