Katie: Just to clear up some misconceptions you might be having, Gaia is neither bi nor gay. . I've had my friends ask me that. Gaia's just a big flirt and attention-whore. Even though he's a guy.

Gaia: pops up

Katie: Why're you here? You're supposed to be in town skipping. I just put up in the last chappie you were skipping.

Gaia: You are too, I might add. And why do your friends think I'm gay and/or bi?

Katie: I don't think you are. And after all, I am the only person that matters. But you do have a snoring thing that I've heard can get out of hand.

Gaia: SHUT UP NOW.

Katie: A certain group of people have said it's like the Fourth of July.

Gaia: BE QUIET BEFORE I KILL YOU.

Katie: Or my dad when he snores. And I can hear him when I'm in the basement. Oh, and fyi – YOU DON'T OWN ME, I OWN YOU. Now get your blond ass back in the story.

Gaia: You're not my mom! And I don't have a "snoring thing" as you so kindly put it.

Katie: Is it nice on that boat-ride you're taking? On the river of DENIAL?

Gaia: You're lieing.

Katie: And you sleep on your back. I was thinking…if you slept on your side, like me, you wouldn't snore. AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT! You are not the only person in this disclaimer, my blond bastard, and me, being both authoress and having more power here because I have said more rule over you. That's right. Be afraid. Step away from your queen. Go on. Farther. VICTORY IS MINE!

Gaia: I'll get my revenge, Katie…

Katie: I'm so scared, Gaia!

"Justine! Where were you at?! You never came home last night! I couldn't find you anywhere! I almost sent out a search party!!" Margaret raged angrily at her young charge.

Apparently, the battle back at the inn was still in full swing. And Margaret, more known to be a calm woman, was dominating the conversation with her ranting. Justine, though clearly flustered, had an angry look on her face. It was contorted with rage each and every time she was put down.

"But, I was--,"

"DON'T—you ever interrupt me! I was saying how worried I was about you! And here you are, getting spotted coming in early without even an explanation as to where you were! What's all over your clothes?! What were you doing?" Margaret's own round face was cherry-red as she got on Justine about her mysterious disappearance.

"If you would just let me ex--,"

"NO! Go to your room! I don't want you leaving that place until I call for you! Leave tonight and I'll be forced to punish you!"

"BUT--!!"

"NO BUTS! GO TO YOUR ROOM!!!!"

Justine, finally pushed over the edge, jumped out of the chair where she had been pushed as soon as Margaret had gotten within reach. She reached down, angrier than a cornered badger, and grabbed the back of it in a vice grip; so hard, that her knuckles turned whiter than death…

"Woman, who do you think you are to boss me around? HOW DARE YOU!!" In a blinded rage, she whirled and smashed the chair against Margaret's shoulder.

The older woman cried out in shock and surprise. The once-kind girl that she had found an abandoned child in the slums of Alfitaria was towering above her with hatred blazing behind her glass eyes. Margaret's breath was coming in ragged gasps. She was getting on in years she realized as she looked at her shoulder where the chair had found target. She reached up and gingerly touched it and screamed. It was bloodied and bruised, though not broken.

"It's about time you were told your place. I don't care that you found me as a baby. You mean nothing to me. You are not my mother! My mother left me behind to die, and I will not let you take her place in my heart!"

Now it was Margaret's turn to get yelled at, to have no voice in the argument.

"But, Just--,"

"Forget it! You don't know what it was like! Living out there, with the bandits who were horrible and did all sorts of horrible things to me!"

"Oh, my! You mean they ra--,"

"DON'T TRY TO SOLICE ME! It doesn't matter now! All that matters is the now! And I'm living, but in another kind of hellhole. You don't know what it's like to be me. I have to disguise myself when I go out, because I am still living in fear of those men."

"I'm so sorr--."

"Don't bother! I don't want your pity. You try to shelter me, and I'll thank you for the free food, but you serve no other purpose in my life! Come to my room tonight to try and save me or apologize to me, DON'T! I said you are nothing to me, and I will make that a reality if you do so, so just leave me alone!"

With an angry huff and a raging glare, Justine stormed from the back rooms. She passed through the kitchen, and from Margaret's scared and shocked position on the floor, could hear the sounds of pots and pans being knocked from shelves and plates being thrown to the ground. From there, Justine went into a room to her right and slammed it closed and locked it so's not to be bothered by her caretaker.

huff huff Margaret sat there for several minutes; until the sound of nervous knocking came from a ways to her left.

"Come…in…!" She panted, still staring wide-eyed in front of her. She was imagining Justine standing there, above her, threatening her. Threatening to kill her…

"Um…Miss? Urm…We were wondering where you were at. You're normally out here by this time, and you never leave the register unguarded, and I wanted to let you know that I did so. Protected your money, I mean, and…are you all right?!"

The courteous voice from the door had made its tentative way into the deeper recesses of the inn and saw Margaret sitting on the floor, clutching her arm where it was pumping blood through her fingers. It belonged to one of her usual customers: a kind and caring Lilty by the name of Venra. He was a young one, and thus shorter than an adult Lilty, which made him almost as tall as Margaret's hips.

"Miss, miss, are you OK? Do you need some medicine? Miss, can you hear me???" Venra asked loudly, rushing to the hostess's side and kneeling down.

Margaret wasn't listening. She was still gazing into the distance with her mouth hanging open, reliving the scene in her head; the fight she'd had with Justine. And she realized something. She realized that she was afraid. Afraid for her life, because even after all these years, she still knew very little about the girl, and seeing her flared temper for the first time frightened her badly. She didn't know if Justine was capable of murder. She was afraid for her life.

Venra shook Margaret gently on her good side, attempting to shake her out of her reverie. It worked: Margaret shook her head and blinked back tears and tried calming her racing heart. She reached up and wiped sweat that had begun to trickle down her forehead. Her breath came in shortened gasps. Her eyes searched the room for the person who had rescued her from her troubled daydreams and landed on the little Lilty who was gazing up at her with a worried expression on his young face. She put on a smile. For his sake. There was no point for needless worrying.

"It was nothing, child. I merely tripped over this chair here and bruised my arm. Nothing to worry about. But if you could please fetch the doctor Yuke for me, I'd appreciate it. I hurt my shoulder a bit and I want to get it looked at. And hurry, if you may. Thank you. Tell your parents they eat for free tonight," Margaret grasped the edge of the tumbled chair to heave herself off the ground and refused the little boy's offer to help. No need to worry anyone…

Venra cast Margaret's heaving form leaning against a table heavily as she righted the chair and dashed out the door.

'Justine…I don't know what you're capable of…I'm sorry…,'

"Well, here it is!" Gaia exclaimed, thrusting his arms wide at the shop before him. I had to admit, it was really impressive. Compared to McCarthy's ramshackle hut, this huge place looked like the Taj Mahal (sp? .)

It stood high with three stories to it, each with its own ventilation shaft out to the side that poured out grey smoke and steam, along with the sounds of avid workers hurrying around like bumblebees. It was red brick and had broad bay windows out front, through which I could see many swords, shields, and armor lining, hanging, and laying around it. It had black shingles going up at a vastly menacing point at the place's peak. Just above a wooden door with iron lining was a big flag advertising the place: Johavsven's Smithie Shop. I grumbled to myself and thought only of McCarthy's building as I went in with Gaia. I released his arm as we entered and gazed around.

Hanging on the walls were, as labeled, the more powerful weapons, said to be able to have its owner be able to release more amounts of chi in less time, to increase his strength, and to raise his attack power. They varied greatly in their design. One called the Rune Blade was a beautiful emerald green with moving Clavatian runes moving slowly around the sharp side of the blade, bouncing off the golden hilt and winding up again, all the while giving off a mysterious aura.

A smaller, less odd sword was hanging next to it: called "The Feather Saber". It was of a strange brown-looking metal. It intrigued me; I walked over to where it lay upon metal hooks and lifted it ever so gently off the wall. It listened to my hands easily, being as light as a feather.

'Huh. Well, that's neat,' I thought to myself, hurriedly placing the sword back. I gazed around at the other weapons with newfound curiosity, wondering if they held the same mystical name-like properties as the Feather Saber. There was the Marr Sword, Defender, Ragnarok, and even one called Excalibur.

'Hmm…Now where have I heard that name before…?' As I stood in the corner pondering this question, the Lilty they called Johavsven walked in from a back room, answering Gaia's call. He was wiping his greasy hands on a dirty rag in a way that reminded me reminiscently of McCarthy; only he had a-urm…peach head. Jo-for the sake of not misspelling his name later- jumped up on a box that was behind a counter displaying little elixirs and potions in small, multi-colored bottles and bright orange feathers in satin boxes.

"Ca' I 'elp ya'?" He asked our group, looking around.

I looked at him, sizing him up and trying not to smirk at his funny accent. He had care-worn wrinkles around his eyes and a hard, thin mouth that drooped down at the edges. There were puffy bags under his eyes, but they were not blue, black, or purple, which lead me to believe that they were going to be permanent reminders of his endless days in hard labor. His hands seemed calloused, for when he reached out to shake the prince's hand, it sounded like sandpaper was grasping Jakob's. Jake tried not to let the slight pain he was feeling show through. He stood up straight and took it with pride. Gaia took it upon himself to do introductions. As it would seem, he had spent a fair amount of time here in Alfitaria, and knew the weather-beaten traveler well.

"Hello, Jo!" He said chipperly. Jo cast him a patient look. For all the characteristics Gaia seemed to possess, knowing when not to bug someone seemed to be the one he needed to perfect the most. I took a wild guess and thought that Gaia had come down to this shop many a time; either with his caravan or on his own.