(Chapter 1 - A coming of ways)

He was told to wait until nightfall, on this day, at this time. Or so Kape was quite sure, as it was spelled out in a letter hidden deep within his pocket.
They had left him with a name, nothing more, nothing less. “Manis,” it was said to be. “You will meet with him in a clearing, the one among the willows. He will know what it is you must do.”
A familiar name, he had thought, though he was unsure of why. He would’ve inquired further if he was young again; Stupid, though he knew well enough where he now stood, and it wasn’t among them.
He had walked across the whole of the lands for a damned letter, his preferred choice of words, and now he was stood at the edge of it, waiting for the unknown amidst a darkened forest.
The pay will be worth it, he had told himself, but it was just one of his many lies for the journey, the ones to keep him going. I’ve been good to them for long enough, they will return the favour. Though deep down, the truth was clear, clearer than any clearing he had been to before. For nothing, all of this is for nothing. This was the truth. The one he knew to be.
Though he thought not of any of this as he stood, waiting, staring vacantly out into the unknown distance, welcoming the cool night air onto his face.

After many minutes of contemplation, accompanied with the realisation that he had never walked this far in his life for anything, let alone a name, Kape lifted his cloak further over his head, tucking the strands of hair that had fallen down onto his face, deep behind his ears.
He knelt down and placed his hand onto the cool, wet grass, pulling, ripping and rubbing a blade of thin grass between his fingers. He had longed for the feel of proper, untrampled grass, for it was nothing like what the endless lines of carriages had destroyed, once similar to that of what he was feeling. He flicked the piece of grass away, resuming his blank stare out into the forest. 

Darkness set in soon after, like a blanket of black, vanishing even the slightest hint of light.
He longed for a fire, for not even his thick woolly cloak, fur gloves, long pants or leather boots, which rose to the tops of his shins, could keep the cool out.
Though, even as the cold grew thicker, he remained quite still, fingering a piece of parchment in his pocket, trying to align a sentence that would explain perfectly what had happened and what was happening. Though nothing was piecing together, nothing convincing, nothing legitimate, so he continued until his thoughts were plagued with anticipation and doubt; the possible road ahead and where it could lead, nowhere, he thought, all roads lead to nowhere.
He grew impatient in his mind, though he was perfectly content out of it, for he knew, truly, what it was he must do.
Kape wrapped his right hand tightly around the grip of his sword, unsheathing it in one clean pull, the sound of steel ringing out into the night. He stared intently at it; its imperfections were clear, stains of blood now a dull purple. He spat into his hand and began wiping fresher blood from the tip. Though it wasn’t the stains or the slight imperfections that had him wondering.
He rose the blade up into the moonlight, for the moon was full, stretching his arm to its limit, refining his view onto three symbols engraved into the blade, shinning a brilliant blue. He remained like this for many seconds, pondering their meaning and how they came to be, though, in the end, he was lost for any answer. He sighed.

His eyes shot to a light winding its way through the willows in front of him. He sheathed his sword, listening.
Stopping and starting it flickered until all was black again, all but a voice filling the quiet with noise, a humming, a song, he thought, a waste of precious words, so he blocked his ears, it remained, he pressed harder, the pain was bearable, though pointless, for the song remained in his head, all roads lead to willows, nothing but sweet, sweet willows. Let them touch your soul; let it unmould, for nothing is truly hidden.

The song held no meaning to him, yet it was wedged too firmly in his thoughts for him to flick it away; he had heard it sung elsewhere before, though he was unsure by who. Let the willows wind through your soul, let them take control. See them grow and you will know, that all roads lead to willows. He hummed it without a thought, continuing to fiddle with the parchment, watching a figure come into view.

“A nice song.” It said, forming the shape of a tall, slender man, a long cloak flowing elegantly in his wake.
“Indeed,” lied Kape. “Nothing like a song to ease the night in.” The words tasted sour.
“Never thought music was your…” The man paused, clearly searching for an appropriate word. “Thing.”
“Oh yes,” said Kape nonchalantly. “I’ve never quite understood how anyone could go without music in their life, seeing as it’s been such a prominent feature in mine.”
The man grinned. “Do say who your favourite musicians are, I’m intrigued to know.” He waited.
Kape gulped, trying to recall a name, any name. “Ah, well, you know,” wiping sweat from his brow. “There are just too many brilliant musicians, and to name one, or even just a few, would be doing those I don’t mention a dishonour. But yeah, all great, sound is good from all of their instruments.” He nodded for effect, watching a blank stare grow sharply into a smile.
The man began laughing, quiet at first, though louder and louder he grew, causing Kape to shift uncomfortably where he stood, slightly confused.
Out into the night his cries went, over the tree tops and across the forest, and it wasn’t until several minutes later did he finally quieten down.

Kape had grown increasingly irritated in this time. The edges of the parchment in his pocket had been torn up into many pieces, and a sizeable hole had formed where he had been stretching his shirt.
“You’re so full of it, aren’t you?” Said the man after many seconds of calming himself, bursting back into a fit of it after a brief, sharp laugh leaped unexpectedly from him.
“It can’t possibly be that funny,” said Kape, wishing for him to stop. “No one else would find that funny.”
The man wiped the waterfall from his face, stepping a couple of paces closer to Kape. “It’s funny because you’re so full of it, you always have been, and always will be.”
“Full of what?” inquired Kape, aware of the answer he was leading himself into.
“Shit!” The word leaped from the man’s mouth and slapped Kape across the face, causing him to stumble. He laughed harder and louder than he had done before. Birds retreated from their nests, and wolves howled from off into the distance. The night was no longer the peaceful quiet Kape had previously enjoyed.
“Shit!” He shot again, missing Kape by only a hairs length.
“Okay! I get it,” Kape pleaded. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the whole of the forest gets it by now, maybe even those traveling on the nearest trail get it, so I don’t understand why you have to keep saying it.” Kape had grown tired of this night, all he wanted was to sleep, have a normal conversation, and then sleep.”
“Shit.” It hit Kape square in the chest, knocking him from his feet, giving him his wish.

The man wandered over to Kape’s limp body, staring inquiringly at him. He offered his hand. “You’ve grown fat,” he said, as blunt as anyone ever could. “Fat as the fattest man I know.”
“And who do I have the honour of being the fattest man with?” The fall had rendered Kape’s once deep voice raspy, like a blocked trumpet. Kape felt over his chest for a hole, confused when he didn’t find one. He grasped onto the hand.
“You,” he said, pulling Kape up. “You’re the fattest man I know.”
“An honour all of my own,” said Kape, reclaiming a decent breath. “A first,” he looked up at the man, for he towered at least a foot over him. “I would be calling you many things right now if you didn’t just shoot a hole in my chest, for I can hardly conjure up a decent breath.”
“I didn’t” He chuckled.
“Felt like it,” said Kape. “Where did you even learn to do stuff like that, knocking innocent people over with words?”
The man looked longingly at Kape, as if assessing him from top to bottom, expecting something better. “You’ve got to really mean it,” he said, staring hard at Kape. “Watch.” He walked a couple of paces away before turning to face him again.
“Sorry?” said Kape, still unsure at the sudden turn of events.
“Watch,” said the man again, though this time, a blue light shot from the tip of his forefinger, directed at Kape’s chest.
Kape stood in horror, watching as a beam of blue light flew through the air and entered him. “What did you just do?!” touching his chest in a desperate panic. “You’ve killed me?”
The man watched with a wide smile on his face, his eyes sparkling as a blue light illuminated from Kape’s chest. “Killed you?” The light grew brighter. “You’re nothing but a light source, I could simply flick my fingers and you’d, turn off, so to speak.”
“Turn me off, then!” urged Kape, trying to cover the light with his hands. “Turn me off before you fry me from the inside out!”
The man chuckled, flicking his fingers. All went dark.
“You’ve got to mean it,” he said, walking back over to Kape. “Like, really mean it. The word doesn’t control the spell I use, it is but only the source of power, I must generate enough of it to use the spell. Most people confuse how the word actually works, as they believe a certain word controls a certain spell, which is false. The word must have a meaning within yourself, whatever that word may be; it must make you believe the spell to be true, for that is how people falter, they don’t truly believe in its power, resulting in them doubting the spell to work.”
“What word do you believe in?” asked Kape, as direct as the question seemed, he felt it to be appropriate. “What would you have used if you had wanted to kill me?” As confused as he was at this sudden turn of events, he was intrigued none the less.

The man took a seat on the ground, sighing the day away. “There are many I could’ve used, some even too powerful to be used relatively safely.” He produced a dagger from within his cloak, rolling it around his fingers. Kape admired its craftsmanship; the many golden heads protruding from its grip, the purple stones bridging each of them, though somewhat impractical. “Though, in that instance, if I was to make your whole-body glow blue...”
Kape waited expectantly, watching the man he knew to be his Brother twirl and bounce a dagger between his fingers, acting with the subtle certainty that comes from doing something many times. Kape wondered what his choice of words would be if he was to learn how to conduct spells using them. What do I believe in? He wondered, staring vacantly at his Brother, the one he knew to be Manis.

“Are you going to tell me, or what?” said Kape, realising how long he had been waiting.
“You’re rather impatient, aren’t you?” Manis was still fingering the blade between his fingers, bouncing it over his knuckles.
“I’m over waiting.” Kape went to stand up, but Manis grabbed him firmly by his waist. “You are fat, aren’t you?” Forcing his brother back into a sitting position.
“I’m sure we’ve already established that,” Kape readjusting a more suitable sitting position.
“What is it you really want me to do?” Manis questioned, refining his stare, waiting.
“I would like you to stop using me as a dummy to practice word trick spells on, as funny as you think it may be.” He thought harder. “I’d like you to hurry up, also, that’d be appreciated.”
“Fair enough,” said Manis. “Both very good options, though let us use the first one.”
“Use what?” Kape questioned, staring at his brother.
“Words,” said Manis, as if he thought Kape was as dimwitted as he thought he was. “You want me to stop, so you’re going to say, word for word, what you just told me you would like me to stop, and we’ll see if it works.”
“But, that isn’t a spell,” said Kape, confused. “Spells are like, shooting blue stuff from fingers and setting people on fire with a flick of a stick, not saying something you want and it working, surely?”
“How badly do you want me to stop? asked Manis. “How badly do you believe in it not ever happening again, once we’re finished here?”
Kape stared blankly at his Brother, unsure at how to act, or respond. “I’d rather you not do it. I don’t appreciate it happening, nor do I ever really want it to happen again.”
“Good, now say it.” Said Manis.
“Didn’t I just say it?”
“Mean it,” Manis grasped the air into a fist. “Make me believe.”
Kape thought hard about what he should say, Is this just another joke?
“Waiting. Anytime before death parts us.”
“Yes, yes, I’m thinking.”
“Act now, think later. More effective, trust me. Now go,” Manis waved his hand through the air, as if conducting a performance. “Make me believe it is so.”
I don’t like you doing spells on me, I don’t really like it happening to me, nor do I want it to ever happen again. Kape played it through in his head, as stupid as he thought this situation was, too weak, meaningless, if anything. One more time. I would like you to stop using me as a practice dummy for word spells, as funny as you may find it. Good.
“I would like you to stop using me as a practice dummy for word spells, as funny as you may find it.”
Both Brother’s stared at each other, Manis calm while Kape fidgeted, unsure of what to do next.
“Nice,” said Manis, nodding reassuringly at his Brother. “Very convincing, and I’ll be sure never to do such cruel things to you again, you have my word.”
“So, it worked,” said Kape. “My spell worked?” A slight smile forming.
“Spell? No, you casted no spell, nor did you do anything remotely magical, though it worked, so, well done.”
Manis got up and stretched. “About time we looked for some food and drink, isn’t it?”
“Wait a minute,” said Kape, taken aback. “How did it work, then? I just said some words, anyone could’ve said them, and it would’ve worked for them?”
“You’re completely missing the point, Kape,” Manis heightened his voice, evidently irritated at his Brother’s lack of comprehension on the subject at hand. “You’re convincing me. You’re not casting spells or waving pieces of stick through the air. You’re convincing me that you, Kape, believe it to be true that I, your dearest Brother, should stop doing word spells on you, or however you put it. It doesn’t instantly render me into belief, that still is up to me to decide whether or not I believe it, though if I believe that you believe, or anyone for this matter, we will be more inclined into believing it is so. It is simply the art of making yourself believe something is so, and in return, influencing others that it is so. That is the way, and will always be the way, to complete domination over an individual, whether it be yourself, or another. Belief is the key. Make me believe.”

Kape stared without an answer, attempting to register what his Brother had just spoken of and what it meant.
Manis smiled. “It is not an instantaneous thing, Kape, it takes time to believe, to believe in yourself. If you keep at it, you will improve, there is no other way.
Kape nodded, getting to his feet.
Manis grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer. “You can practice by convincing me that whatever is written on that letter of yours in your pocket is of any importance.” His smile was kind. “Though, let us do it over an ale, shall we?”
The two Brother’s smiled at each other.
And so, they exited into the night, as quickly as they could.

                                                          __________________

The air blew thicker east of the Wouldering Woods, even though they were but a mere mile away from its beginning.

The road had opened up welcomingly as they neared the town of Melen, the nearest to the woods, though not with the closest Inn. They shared the road with very little but themselves as they made the journey to the Bloodstone, an Inn hidden 50 paces from the where the road meets the northern intersection. Though not Kape’s first choice, certainly not for the company it held, the ale was decent, and the hearth was always alit.
Smoke was billowing from the chimney as they neared; embers being lifted up into the night air, flashes of orange and red, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.
The glow of the fire painted its many windows a deep, warm orange, while the silhouettes of its occupants sitting around its many tables glistened. Flashes of black appeared only for a second; the frantic movements of an innkeeper. It was almost a welcoming sight, almost.

“A busy night,” commented Manis, walking steadily next to his Brother, kicking loosely at the stones beneath. “I bet innkeepers’ wish every night was a full moon.”
Kape had never of thought he’d be walking with his brother to an Inn so far away from where he had last seen him, and never in his wildest dreams did he think the name he was given was that of his Brother’s, and the name actually belonging to his Brother. As pleasant a surprise as it was, his questions ranged far and wide. “I remember when you wanted to be an Innkeeper,” said Kape, looking over at his Brother; with the light on his face, Kape could now see how long it had been since he had last seen him. “Still care to do it, even as you approach the age of an Oldman?”
Manis shot a glare in his direction, narrowing his eyes. “You’re three years younger than me, and look four years beyond. I’d watch who you call old.” Chuckling as he looked out at the ever-approaching Inn, for now, the chatter was within ear shot, and pleasant enough it sounded, for the sound of glass shattering, screams and steel on steel was non-existent.
Kape smiled, he had missed the banter they used to share, though he always had scars to remind himself of it. “I’ll keep calling you old until you can down me in duels.” He knew that would get a reaction.
|“You don’t know what I’ve become in our time apart, or what I’m capable of.” Manis managed to keep his voice calm, adding to its effect.
Kape nodded, slightly off put by it. “Oh right, your word magic stuff. My apologies for forgetting.” Though he fuelled the fire none the less, for his own amusement sake.
Manis didn’t retaliate this time, smiling faintly to himself. “This letter is of our upmost concern for the moment, we can continue our false assumptions once we’ve dealt with it.”

They approached the inn shortly after. Two horses were tied up out the front, one drinking from a bucket, while the other stared, all forlorn, in through one of the nearest windows, soaking up the warmth through its nose. Kape pushed through the door first, closely followed by his Brother, a little bell singing their entrance, causing many eyes to drift their way. The door closed with a solid thump behind them.
“A table for two,” said Kape, loud enough for the innkeeper to hear. A plump Oldman shot his head up from the counter, evidently irritated by Kape’s sudden request. He shot his eyes over to a table in a far corner, they took the hint.
“An ale?” offered Kape, staring expectantly at his Brother. “Two?”
“Three.” Said Manis, taking a seat facing the rest of the Inn.
Kape walked hesitantly around the tables and towards the counter, receiving his fair share of sour stares. He noted how many of them had swords, too many, he thought, not that he was expecting any trouble, but this was the Bloodstone, he’d be lying if he wasn’t slightly off put.
“Five beers.” He asked, approaching the counter, reaching for his purse.
“Ten silver bits.” Said the innkeeper, staring close with his misty eyes, too close, thought Kape, counting out ten silver bits. He reached forwards and dropped the silver into the Innkeepers hand, his stretch revealing the sword strapped to his waist. He watched as the innkeeper’s eyes latched onto it, putting the silver from his hand into a purse.
“You know how to use that?” he queried as he went about getting the ale.
Kape thought about his answer, watching the innkeeper’s eyes float between him and the barrel. “When I have to.” He answered, ensuring it was polite.
The innkeeper nodded. “You take a seat, I’ll bring ‘em on over.”

Kape took up a chair across from his Brother, retrieving the letter from his pocket. He placed and straightened it on the table, frowning at its appearance, realising how badly he had torn at it.
“What did you do to it?” Manis moved his head closer to it.
“I was annoyed,” said Kape, looking at it closer, noticing the sections of writing missing from it. “Though I didn’t expect it to be that bad.” Kape put his hand back into his pocket, grabbing and placing the hundreds of torn bits of paper onto the table.
“Well isn’t that convenient,” Manis began poking through them all. “Not that we really need it, but still, it would’ve been good for reference.”
“In that case,” said Kape, looking back up at his Brother. “Tell me what it is we have to do, apart from what this letter says, for that is what I know.”
Manis grabbed a rolled-up piece of parchment from within his cloak. He unrolled it gently, placing it down in front of Kape, reading from the top. “You were told to go to the Wouldering Woods, which you did.” Muttering the rest to himself. Upon reaching its bottom, he placed his forefinger down onto a name, “Joronal Woodley,” Manis looked across at Kape. “This is our man.”
“We’re to kill him?” asked Kape, frowning at the simplicity of the instructions.
“Yes,” Manis nodded. “Basically.”
The Innkeeper placed three of the five ales onto the table, returning to the counter for the rest.
“Thankyou.” Said Kape, watching him place the rest in front of him.
He walked away without a word. Kape watched as he cleared away the mugs from the now vacant tables, humming silently to himself. I’d be a sour old man, too, if I had to do what he’s doing, and God knows how long he’s done it for. He felt oddly sad for the innkeeper, for he truly was nothing more than an Oldman, all alone. Kape watched as he walked out back, gripping onto the walls for balance.
“Where is it we must go?” asked Kape, looking back towards his Brother.
“Conveniently enough,” Manis began smiling. “Not very far at all.” His eyes moved towards the inn’s counter, for once it was lined with people, drinking and laughing, arguing and fighting, now completely vacant.
Kape paused in thought. He watched as his Brother’s eyes moved back and forth between him, and the counter, wondering what he could possibly mean.
“We weren’t send all the way to the Wouldering Woods just because they thought we needed the exercise,” he lent forwards, softening his voice. “Our Joronal Woodley is the owner and innkeeper of the Bloodstone.” He looked with evaluating eyes around the room, as if taking it all in.
Kape was shocked. “But…” he began, stuttering the rest of his words away. He couldn’t quite understand why an old innkeeper would be such a target. “He’s just an Oldman,” pleaded Kape, staring desperately at his Brother, who continued to show no sign of concern. “What could they possibly want with an Oldman?” Kape shifted his sight just behind his Brother; a painting of the Bloodstone and its surrounding, a Man and Woman positioned in the foreground, embracing.
“We don’t question, we act,” said Manis, noticing his Brother’s distant stare. “You should know this by now?” concerned at his Brother’s sudden show of compassion. “This is what we do, Kape, it is what we’ve done since Kingdom come, and there is no reason why we should stop for the sake of a saddened Oldman, sour at life and where it has lead him.”
The innkeeper returned from out the back, shouldering a sack of potatoes, dropping them with a grunt onto the ground.
Kape watched as he cut open the bag and began piling them onto the counter, noticing him glance over towards them. But it isn’t right, trying to convince himself, ashamed at the sympathy he was showing a stranger. Perhaps death would be an escape for him.
“Well,” said Manis in a vibrant voice, pushing himself up from the table. “Let us get paid.” He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a dagger, slipping it quickly into the back of his trousers, turning for the counter.
“Wait!” begged Kape, though at nothing more than a whisper, reaching and clinging onto his Brother’s nearest hand. He couldn’t quite understand why he did, but he couldn’t control it.
Manis turned his head to face him, looking at the hand that was holding his. “What are you doing?”
I don’t know, Kape looked desperately at him, at the dagger, the counter, the Oldman, and back at this Brother again, he couldn’t control how he felt. He let go of his Brother’s hand, holding his arm out at a reach, “Why are we doing this?” He asked, relaxing his arm. “Why him?”
“They gave you a choice,” Manis stood up as straight as he could, looking over his Brother from a great height, still slouched in a chair. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“The pay is what I wanted! Spat Kape, slamming his fist onto the table, watching his Brother take a hesitant step back. Kape saw the innkeeper freeze, glaring over in his direction. He returned his stare back up at his Brother, sucking in a deep, scratchy breath. “I just want the money, not the blood and the killing, just the money.”
Manis smiled. “Say it again, though this time, make me believe it.”
“Not this again,” said Kape, shaking his head, arising from his seat. “I refuse to go through this process again. And to think I thought it was magic.” He stood face to face with his Brother, staring hard into his eyes. “Fuck your magic.” It was late, and Kape was tired, all he longed for was a soft, warm bed. “If we don’t have a choice,” he placed his hand on the grip of his sword. “Let’s get this shit over with, so we can take his money, take his food, take his ale and sleep in his beds.”
Manis sighed in relief. “Let me take care of this, save me having to kill you as well.” He smiled, motioning towards the door.
Kape nodded towards the innkeeper as he neared the entrance, “goodnight,” he said as he pushed his way through the door, pausing for a moment, looking back at his Brother, still standing, smiling. He could see the blade hidden with his trousers, it was a nice blade. I'd be glad to die it, he thought, soaking in the last bits of warmth, breathing in the fire.
The door shut firmly behind him as he exited into the night, the little bell ringing off into the quiet. He looked up at the stars, the moon and then back down at the trees; it was a nice night, an ideal one to die on.
He listened for the subtle scream, as the knife enters the chest, silence usually follows, as it did, until a brief cough, mostly blood, a solid thump on the ground followed by the desperate sounds of life suddenly being taken away; screams, groans, whatever they see fit until enough blood has left them, leaving a lifeless body. An effective way to die, not Kape’s personal choice, for it tended to entail excruciating amounts of pain, lasts for an undesired amount of time and leaves a heartache of a mess.
The little bell rang again, Manis exited into the night, hands full of gold and silver, food and ale. “I really don’t know why you go on about it,” he said, passing a sackful of sorted potatoes to Kape. “It’s rather soothing, in its own brutal, bloody sort of way.”
“For some,” said Kape. “I choose a simpler sort of life.” Motioning towards the gold and silver, smiling.
“Fortune comes to those who wait,” Manis looked around into the night. “And right now, we must be going, for our presence will not be welcomed come morning.”

Kape’s spirits had been lifted from the sight of so much gold, so he didn’t mind having to walk to find a relatively safe spot to spend the rest of the night.
They finally came to rest half a mile down from the northern intersection, underneath a matured willow, giving them enough coverage and privacy to be hidden from plain sight, relying no one came looking.
Kape rested the potatoes against the tree, propping it up in such a way that he could rest his head on it.
Manis did the same, though with the sacks of gold. “We take all this to Alenvon tomorrow,” he began. “We get our cut and leave, wherever that may be to. A carriage would be handy, save for curious eyes falling our way, and I’d prefer not to be questioned every so many miles, I could do without the inconvenience-”
Kape had drifted off into a deep sleep almost instantly, so his Brother’s words went unheard. Drunk on his sudden come into great fortune, though it was only temporary, he felt richer than he ever had before, a feeling it wished to get used to.
Manis followed suit shortly after, realising only the tree was listening to him.
And it wasn’t until the sun shone high did they finally awake.