"Speak of Herobrine..." Dan remarks, ending the silence of our walk.
Leaning against Dan's cobblestone shack is a tall, scarred, tanned man. His bald, tattooed head is ribbed from the pressure of his scowl, the lips beneath it pierced with three gold rings. From the neck down, chainmail dirtied with red and green stains covers his body. Across his chest run two diagonal leather straps, holding a bow and quiver in place against his back. At his waist are strapped two scabbards: one iron, one gold.
The man's shrewd eyes inspect a pale red crystal turning over in his hand. It takes a moment for the man to notice us before he lifts his eyes from his study. The bulge of his brow gives his gaze a threatening undertone, but it does little to hide his slight uneasiness.
"I have bad news," The bald man begins to say, his voice deep and hoarse, worn and deepened from unknown trials worth reckoning with.
"That's not exactly the best way to introduce yourself after your friend was late on his payment," Dan responds, unamused, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.
The bald man shakes his head. "There's no other way to put it. There have been delays. There's been a..."
"I don't want to hear excuses." Dan snaps off the man's sentence. He walks out in front of me, then stops near the door of the shack, about two meters away from the man. There is hesitation in his demeanor for a moment, then the frame of his body relaxes a little. "I want an explanation of how your friend is going to pay me."
"He wanted me to tell you that the payment you desire is on its way. However, he also wanted to make it clear that it is a privilege to do business with him," The man replies, seemingly emboldened by Dan's concession to compromise. "He said that your deal with him is conditional upon your cooperation."
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" A calm and deliberate confidence returns to Dan's voice. "Because it certainly won't change the deal we've already made. I don't take threats for a bargain. He's late on his payment, and I want compensation."
"Fine. What do you want?"
"That sword," Dan points at the bald man's golden scabbard.
The man pauses for a moment, confused, his stare questioning if Dan is actually being serious. A flash of worry ripples across his brow, and then he nods, fidgeting with the belt until he unclips the scabbard from his waist. He hands the covered blade to Dan, handle first. "Collateral?" the man asks.
"No, interest." Dan takes the sword from the bald man, who lets go of it reluctantly. "There is collateral, though, and you can probably guess what that might be. Let your friend know that." Dan pauses a moment to let the meaning sink in. "When can I expect payment?"
"Within two to three weeks," the man's dark brown eyes lock upon mine, his scarred and tight-muscled face causing me to feel uneasy. "We also need assurance that the man over there will keep quiet."
Dan follows the man's line of sight until his vivid blue eyes fall upon my own.
"I won't say a thing; just don't get me involved," I reply.
"It's a deal, then." Dan turns back to face the man. "However, there won't be any leeway this time. I've been too forgiving already, simply because I'd rather resolve this issue peacefully while I'm in front of a guest."
The man nods. "Your urgency will be made understood." He pushes his back off of the wall and begins to walk towards the neglected gravel road.
Dan turns the golden sheath over, squinting at its vine-engraved design critically. He tilts it forward while slowly pulling out the handle from the upper end, the friction creating the tinny sound of gliding metal. Muted yellow sunlight travels down the length of the blade, sometimes amplified to a burning brightness with the pulse of a purple sheen.
He lifts the blade upward, then slowly rotates it back and forth. On either side of the blade is a geometric, crisscrossing design, its shapes resembling the exposed layers of sediment in a high cliffside. "What a shame," Dan mutters. "Even with the enchantments I've added, this sword is worth more melted down than kept as a weapon. The gold from it is worth a lot, though, which is what matters in the end..."
It seems somewhat strange that such a tough-looking man would be willing to accept a deal with Dan so quickly. Why would he give up his own sword, when he could have insisted that his friend pay the interest? The man looked as if he had seen many battles, not the sort of man who would give up one of his own possessions to avoid confrontation.
Dan pushes the blade back into its sheath, its entry ending with a metallic click. "I'll have to travel to Bluesteel to sell this for a good price. You may have to come with me."
"Why is that?" I ask, somewhat confused of why I'd have to tag along.
Dan looks at me, perplexed. "Don't you remember back in Mothy's shop, when I couldn't purchase the eggs I wanted? That man's friend..." Dan points towards the gravel road behind me. "... has been so late on his payment that I'm running out of money for food."
I can't help but draw a parallel between Dan's client and the customer that visited Mothy this morning. "You're not the only one having trouble getting paid, are you?"
Dan reveals a little smirk. "Lack of money is a common problem in Zomem." He turns around and opens the door. I begin to walk towards the entrance.
"It sure seems like it..."
Zomem seems to be a magnet for misfortune, from poverty to crime to disease. It's not exactly the best place to make a living. Still, its population is so isolated and desperate that it is the perfect place to begin germinating my power. If I go to Bluesteel with Dan, I lose that opportunity to begin my plans. Bluesteel is far too heavily populated, far too fortunate with resources, for me to be able to control it.
I close the door behind me, leaving only the flickering torchlight to illuminate our faces. Why should I think that way? Since when did power matter so much to me? I'm not like this.
My thoughts change shape. I feel as if my head has been dunked in water. The memory of last night materializes. I see the fallen guard at my feet, laying limp upon the dried grass. What if he wasn't actually dead? What if he was just laying there, because I told him to? What degree of loyalty would that take? In a rural town like this, he'll have few places to turn... and if Dan is gone, nobody will be able to stop me.
We begin to walk down the stairs. I resolve to convince Dan to let me stay. "Still, that doesn't explain why I have to come to Bluesteel with you."
"I'm afraid that if that book's control over you isn't severed in the next few days - and frankly, I highly doubt it will be that easy - then I have no choice but to bring you with me." A meter across the library at the bottom of the stairs, Dan stops and turns around. "Your compromised willpower makes you a danger to society... as well as yourself."
I stop after taking the last step down. "Is there any way that I can stay here?"
"No. I need money for food. Why must you insist?"
The Book speaks. "It's not working. If you try to press your demands upon Dan at this point, he will only trust you less. Bide your time."
I sigh in defeat. Since when was the Book the reasonable one, restraining the demands of the other mind-kin?
"I don't know," I respond to Dan, searching for a harmless excuse for my behavior. "I guess I'm just tired from the long trip yesterday."
Dan nods and smiles, seemingly accepting of my explanation. "You've had to endure a lot since your troubles with the book started. I recognize that. Don't worry; I still have a few days worth of food, before the trip will be necessary."
I work to conceal a glare with a sorrowful smile. Poor Dan. He's still naive enough to think that I want to get rid of the Book. He still thinks that my friend is solely a nuisance. The longer he's kept in the dark, the better.
"It seems that Dan does not suspect your motives," says the Book. "That is exactly what you need. I apologize from restraining you from your desires. Usually, you are the reasonable one."
It would cause me too much guilt to pretend that. On the contrary, I've been the demanding one. I greedily drew on your power to craft the armor, then insisted that Jonas bring me to Zomem to enchant it, ignoring the warnings you gave me. I insisted on staying here, when you knew it would be impossible. I should have known sooner that you were the reasonable one. I should have known that you were the one keeping me sane.
Dan lifts the cloth-covered basket, the motion in my line of sight helping me to climb out of the haze. "Do you mind joining me to make some eggs?"