Ello, ‘ello.What we ‘ave‘ere then?”Asked a gruff voice.


    “Can I help you good sir?” Applerepliedtheman who had just jumped out some bushes in front of him.


    The man beamed, “‘elp? Why yes, I think you can be a ‘elp–yacan.” The man replied with a crooked grin. Crooked in both design and the stained shards of what were once teeth the smile exposed.


    “Marvellous.” Apples declared,“always happy to assist a fellow traveller. Tell me, good sir, what is the particular thing in question, that is of your request?”


    “Erm, what?” He replied with the cock of his head and a blank stare. “Yasee,meleg don’t be too good these days,yasee.”HeGesturedto his right leg that now suddenly seemed to be unable to support his weightof his evident pot-belly. “I know a healer that can mend it all good, but I don’t ‘avethe coin ,yasee.”


    “Oh, I see, I see. You need not the aid of labour or good humour, but instead require of memy very ownprecious coins.“Applehummed, stroking his chin in thought. “How much to fix that poor leg of yours, good sir?”


    “Erm,I’d say thirty irons should suffice - they would.”


    “Oh my. That is a hefty request, good sir. Why, I would be delighted to sacrifice my own wealth for somestrangeunkempt lout, who can’tseem tolet go of the hilt of the sword strapped to his side, but alas I do not possess the amount you sodesperately need. A thousand apologies, good sir.”Hebowed his head slightly as a sign of apology.


    The man stared at Apple in silence for several seconds. His eyebrowscrunched togetherand his eyes squinted in deep concentration. “Well.,gimmewhatyagot then!” He barked.


    “He’s not very good at this. It’s kind of cute in a strange way. Like watching a dirt-stained child happily dine from therumpof an ant hill.”Apple thought.


    “Oh, but good sir. The coins I own are not enough for your leg, theleg thatseems to have miraculously healed,by the way.” Apple gestured with a nod of his head at the man’s right legthat was now once again easily accepting his girth.


    The man’s face began toflushbrightred. His smirk was now replaced with sunken lips that vibrated ever so softly. “Enough of this horse shit!” He yelled. “Gimmeyamoney, or I’ll gutyalike a pig – I will!” The man drew his sword. An iron spatha with nicks so large Apple could see them from the distance of ten paces that separated them.


    Apple wondered how to proceed. The bandit seemed in no rush to attack him. Perhaps Apple’s confidentdemeanourhad made him wary. If only he knew that Apple’sbehaviourwas a result ofbecomingdesensitisedto being mugged and not because of his martial prowess. The first months of the reign of the Circle was certainly a tough time for him,wandering the open roads in his tattered noble garb; like a beacon to the unsavoury folk that stalked the roads.


    In a way Apple was flattered by this confrontation. Notasingleperson had even attempted to even pickpocket him inthe past few months. Itwasquite amazing what a fresh pair of study clothes, a shave,and no longer smelling like an excitable mongrel will do fora man.


    “Well, yougonnagive menyacoins, or what?” The bandit yelled, freeing Apple from hispondering.


    “Tell me, are you alone?” Heasked the bandit with a calmness that did not suite the situation.


    “Huh?”


    “Are you alone?”


    “Yes I’m - Wait!No,I’m not alone. All me mates arehidin’ in the trees, justwaitin’ to fire an arrow upyaarse.” He boldly claimed. Enhancing his threat with a few jabs at the air with his sword.


    “My word, he is bad at this. I almost feel sorry for him. So stupid that not even otherlow-livesdon’t want to team up with him.”


    “Last chance!Gimmethe coin,or me ‘n’ the boys aregonnafillyafull of‘oles!”


    Apple cursed himself. He was acting too much like a smug arse, even though the possibility of being slain by this man was very real. All he had on his person was a hatchet and the foggy memories of swordplay. “Sorry, good sir, but I can’t do that.” He replied almost sadly. He yanked his small axe from the leather hole it rested in at his waist. “Have at thee!” He bellowed, immediately feeling likeapompous foolafter the words left his lips


    The bandit surprised Apple; he charged immediately. Hegripped his sword in both hands and raised it tilted above hisleftshoulder. The bandit’s sudden boldnessstartledApple. Hefailed toregain his composer until the sword had almost met hisflesh.Just before the sharp iron kissed him, his instincts managed to place his hatchet in the blades path. The collision numbed his arm and slammed it down to his waist. Sadly, the hastily formed block was no match for the two-handed swing from the bandit.


    Applewrist began to burn. He insultedhimself immenselywith a barrage of witty remarks.Hehad alsomostly likely already nicked his new axe with that poor move.


    The bandit was on him again,swinging hisdamagedspatha from his hip upwards. Apple managed to dodge this time, returning a quick jab of his fist at the bandit’s nose. The blow was weak but it appearedtobeenough to stunhisopponentfor a moment. Apple took advantage of the moment and swung his hatchet at the man’s chest. The blade met its target,breaking skin and creating beads of crimson liquid.


    Unfortunately, skin was all the blow managed to sever. Apple withdrew the axe and quickly placed it in his other hand. The growing fireinhis once hatchet-wielding wrist told him it would notbe much use in this fight anymore.


    The banditcomposedhimself,swinginghis sword wildlywithsavageintent, forcing Apple to retreat.


    “Swing thy sword! Swing thy sword!”Cried an old voice in Apple’s mind. “Swing thy sword! Swing thy sword!”It repeated. Apple wanted to ignore the voice’smockingadvice. His vision became impeded by streams of sweat and the numbness of rage.


    “Swing boy! Swing!”


    “I am!” He roared. His hatchet became a blur, only becoming visible once again when It crashed into the bandit’s bladeand came to a grinding halt.


    Their weapons continued to stop one another. Again, and again. Sparks flew, warming their bare skin.Afrenziedclash of little grace or technique, theconditionof their blades mattered little to them while they fought tosurvive.


    Apple’s sudden rage made him unaware of the screaming of his arm muscles. He had long stopped seeing the scruffy bandit, the cobblestone path,andthe scattered birch trees. Now Apple was in a world long gone. In front of him now was ayouth,atall handsome lad in fitted chainmailwielding a spatha of an elegant design.Besides them both fromalargestable,witha tower of stone looming in the corner of his vision – all surrounded by lush grass planes.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “Stop running, boy!Stop using just your shield! Remember your footwork! Swing! Pathetic! Swing!Disgraceful! Swing! Are you really The Red Bison’s grandson! SWING!”


    Apple stopped swinging.


    He wasn’t sure for how long, but he regained composer he realised he was swinging at nothing but the air. He looked down on the ground and found his foe.Anill carved mess of deep gauges and bloody pulps riddled his body. Beside him was the shattered remains of his iron spatha.


    “Shit...I didn’t mean to kill the sorry bastard.” Hewhimpered,staringhard at the bandit’s corpseandburning every detail into his mind,lesshe may ever forget the butchery he committed today.


    Apple said a prayer, to no deity in particular, for his fallen advisory. He felt shame for what he had done. This bandit was stupid and pitiful, but that wasnot a reason forsucha torturous execution.


    He decided the least he could do was bury the sodor at least cremate him. It wasnotlike he had a shovel and he was awfully busy. A stranger that tried to rob youwas notreally worth at least six hours of manual labour. So, instead Apple began to slowly gather the volatiledwimmerhis palms forthe cremation.


    “Welp, might as well loot him first. Wouldn’t want his stuff to go to waste, after all.”


    OnceApple had retrieved teniron coins, seven woods, and a couple of driedbiscuits, he got to work on thecremation.


    He placed one hand on the man’s forehead, the other on his stomach. Thedwimmerthat had been nestling in his hands was sent forth into his corpse.


    “Brinro...Brinro...”He whispered,“Brinro...Brinro...”


    Slowly, the spell began to take effect. Apple’s hands were now glued to the bandit’s corpselike a leech, that wasexactly what he was, a leech.Brinrowas the old word for water and thatwaswhathis hands were feasting upon.


    The bandit’s body began to collapse in on itself, quicklybecoming crinklier than an old man who enjoyeda masochistic relationship with the sun’s rays.


    After aroundten minutes had passed, all of the corpses moisture now resided within Apple. Apple felt disgusting. His whole body swelled and pruned. Water leaked from him in every direction and he no choice but to urinate as soon as he let go of the man. He tried to express hisrevulsionby speaking but as soon as he waggled his tongue and spread his lips, water burst forth from his mouth. He then frantically pulled down his trousers and let loose a torrent of crystal-clear urine.


    After another of ten minutes of chaoticurinating, vomiting,and flailing his bodyin an attempt toflickthe moisture that leaked through his poresof him, Apple got to work on the second part of the cremation process.


    “Bloody shit biscuits! I forgot to give the water an exit!” He cried, in between sloshing burps. “Oh,my gods! This feels awful. Water’s my specialty, how the bloody hell did I mess this one up?”


    After acouple more minutes of yellingand burping, Apple finally calmed down enough to proceed with the next stage.


    This part was a lot easier than the previous one. All that was needed now was to ignite thehumanraisin, that lied upon the cobblestone floor.


    Once Apple’s hands were completely dry, he again placed them upon the dead bandit. This time it only took a minute for the spell to be cast.


    The dried flesh immediately became consumed in fire,spreadingfrom head to toe, engulfing everything.


    Once Apple was confident the fire would not go out until there were nothing but ashes, he took off, not bothering to see his work in motion.


    As he walked away from the crackling of boneand the smell of roasting flesh. He shook his hands lightly;they ached and burned horribly. “I’m never doing that again.” He promised to himself.


    **********


    Once again Apple had found himself in a market. He was beginning to grow tired of the same sights. Same formation of stalls, selling the same merchandise, same buyers,and sellers, all infectedbythe Circle. He wasnot entirely sure what his next course of action would be after he had completed his staff, all he knew so far was that ithopefully no longerinvolvedcrowds.


    Pushinghisintroverted grumblingsto the back of his mind,Appletook off through theborough’ssquare. A smith of some sort was his target for today’s outing, or more specifically: copper. Glorious, conductive copper.


    Tom had told him that there was most certainly a blacksmith somewhere in thisborough calledWestin. Unfortunately, he hadnotmentioned that thisboroughwas on the largerside and the locals all wore sour unwelcoming faces.


    After an hour or so of searching Apple finally stumbled upon a little smithy called: Jim’s Nail. He entered the grey stone building and was welcomed to the sight of metal workings. Scattered around the room were horseshoes, iron chains, nails,and the occasional sword, axe,andwarhammer. It seemed this blacksmith specialised inthemore mundane forging, though Apple expected as much. It would be quite queer to find a weapon specialist in an ordinary old town.


    “Copper you bewantin’lad?” Asked a gruff voice.


    Apple looked forward. About ten paces in front of him was a large burly man clad in nothing but a giant apron and bushy black beard. “Yes I’m – huh?” Apple halted his answer. How did this person know what he wanted at a mere glance?


    “Don’t look so nervous, lad. Didn’t mean to spookya. I’ve hadnothin’ but strange folkcomin’ to my shopbuyin’ all me copper, thought you’d belookin’ for the same - ‘tis all.” He explainedina tone a slight warmer and friendlier than the tonehe used amoment ago.


    This information allowed Apple to breathe again, but not releasethe tension in his muscles.Strangers were buying this man’s copper, why? It couldn’t be the Circle’s agent. They would justtake the copper and be off again. So, either bronze is making an unexpectedcomeback, orthere wereothersorcerers afoot.


    “Yes...Copper. I would like to purchase some copper, if you please.” Apple replied. He decided it was best to get the precious metal and figure the rest out later.


    “It pleases me just fine. How much you bewantin’, lad?”


    “A single ingot should suffice.”


    “Strange, all the others asked for the same amount.” The blacksmith walked away into another room.


    “Well that doesn’t bode well,”he thought.


    As Apple stood contemplating what all this could mean, the blacksmith returned. In his hand was the clear sight of a metallic block, the colour of polished rust.


    “That’ll be ten irons, ifyaplease.”The blacksmith informed.


    For the third time during this encounter, Apple was disturbed. Ten irons for a whole ingot of copper. Even before theexistence of theCircle copper was still worth a lot more than that. He also found itoddlycoincidentalhowitwas the exact amount of iron coins he looted from that bandit earlier.


    “Yeah, that pleases me greatly. Here’s ten irons.” Apple said, as he reached into his coin pouch and retrieved the money.


    “Pleasure doing business withya.” The blacksmith replied, as he took the money and in turn gaveApple his new copper ingot.


    Apple didnotutter another word. No small talk or courtesy browsing. Heshouldhavebeenecstatic but the whole scenariohadstraightened the hairs on his body. He originally planned to ask to use the smith’s forge once he got the copper but right now, he had the uncontrollable desire to leave thisborough immediately.


    So that wasexactly what he did. He left Jim’s Nail without a word and walked as fast as one couldfor it to still be considered walking, right out of the borough, until he found somewhere that can loosenthefrightened hairs on his body.


    **********


    Once again Apple had found himself in a forest. He was notentirely sure why he kept finding himself hiding inain a maze of treeswhen he wastroubled. Perhaps it because he felt hidden inthedense trees and bracken. Maybe it was something to do with his magical affinitiesalthough he possessed the most talent for water out of the four elements,although that reasoning would mean he shouldbefindinghimself knee-deep in puddleswhen life got the better of him.Apple eventually decidedthatit was the first reason, no need to get all philosophical about whysomeonehidesin certain places.


    He looked at theingotofcopper in his hand, allthat was left was to melt it intofinewires and craft a wooden shell for the staff. Apple was certainly no expert on the ways of metals but he did at least know that it required a lot less heat to melt copper than iron. Unfortunately, he doubted his handsdevoid of acatalystwould be able to produce enough heat to do the job.Perhapsif he gathered enough wood and dry leaves tofeedhis flames that would suffice. With no better alternative than to risk finding another forge, Apple got to work.