Chapter XII - Savior

Struggling to breathe, she rested on the ground in a bowed position. Hand placed on the hilt of the blade, she gazed at the ground, sweat dripping wildly from her eyebrows. The sword was barely graspable anymore, constantly sliding out of her wet palm. With barely any power left in her, Amixia placed a hand on her chest in a desperate attempt to calm herself down as soon as possible. The sessions were beginning to exhaust her more and more. Looking up sluggishly, she noticed Wymmel who stood slouched, gasping for air but in a more controlled manner than she. For such an old man, he surely held up well. Around them, people went about their business under the setting sun of Faye, chatters showing no sign of slowing down anytime soon which somewhat distracted her from their spars. Then again, they were Fayes; constantly talking was second nature to them. On the horizon, white yellow lights began to fade, casting shadows as it fell behind the Mother’s Arm. This was the perfect moment they could’ve chosen to train, especially given that their work for the day was finished.

“Ready to go again?” Wymmel asked, straightening himself.

Amixia arose slowly and grasped the blade with both hands. “Ready.”

Wymmel smirked, planted himself firmer in the ground and struck downwards with his long blade. Amixia grimaced as she blocked, the heaviness of his strike almost kicking her off balance. By Mother’s name, how can I keep up? she thought, biting down on her lower lip. Lifting the blade, he shifted it to the other side and struck upwards. Caught off guard, Amixia cursed under her breath and ducked out of the way, the sword barely missing her hair strands. That was way too close for any of them to be comfortable. Was he trying to kill her or actually train her in sword fighting?

“Wymmel!” she protested, frowning.

“I apologize, child, but an enemy is not going to go easy on you,” he said, shaking his head. “You must learn to protect yourself.”

She stumbled to her feet. “You expect me to learn all of it after just a week of training?”

“You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Yes… but… it’s not what I expected.”

“Sword fighting is rarely what you expect. Enemies won’t pity you and try to be less of a challenge, they’ll constantly push and push until they win the battle.”

She sighed and gripped the blade harder. “I… suppose you’re right.”

“Again?” he asked.

She nodded. Wymmel attacked again, forcing her to react immediately. Their blades clashed, loud clangs echoing outwards, the pressure Wymmel was sending down on her forcing Amixia to move aside and escape. She dashed forward, trying to use her speed to her advantage and land a hit on him from behind. He anticipated her move and whirling, he grabbed her arm, shoving her on the ground.

“By Mother’s name!” Amixia said, her face flushing as she stood up. “Why can’t I land a single hit on you? This is nonsense.”

Wymmel chuckled and hauled his blade over the shoulder. “Were you expecting a different outcome?”

“Of course I was! I thought it was going to be difficult, but… just… not this difficult.”

“Have you ever wondered why there’s barely warriors around Faye?”

“No. I thought it had something to do with Faye itself.”

Wymmel shook his palm. “In a way, yes. Being a warrior requires a lot from you, you need to be disciplined, cautious, always alert and ready to face incoming threats. The blade needs to flow elegantly in your palms, and not like you’re fighting against it.”

Amixia lifted her sword and glanced at it. “That’s exactly what… I’m trying to be,” she whispered.

“It won’t be easy to achieve it, and the faster you understand this, the better it will be for you in the future.”

Amixia shrugged, her shoulders slouching forward slightly. “I… guess. I appreciate you sparring with me and teaching me.”

What was she expecting when she chose to do this? That everything was going to be easy and she wouldn’t struggle? Of course it wasn’t going to be as she imagined. Amixia struggled with basic tasks as a blacksmith when she didn’t have to hold up a sword but a tiny hammer, and yet that made her pass out after a couple of hurls. But there was something different now.

Ever since they began training, there was a change within her, one that was hard to dismiss. When waking up, she didn’t dread the way to the shop as she used to, but she looked forward to it with anticipation. There was still work to be done, there was no way to avoid that, but after that was when she could toss all the worries of the day aside, and focus on one thing only. Sparring. It gave her a sense of fulfillment unlike anything she felt before and it was the first time, as far as she could recall, when she did something for herself. Not to prove something to others. She smiled as she thought about it. Finally, after such a long time, she was doing something that made her… happy. It was tough, she knew that, but the toughness of it all made sword fighting even more desiring. She felt as if it was meant for her. As if this was meant to happen. Which was odd, never had she envisioned herself hurling a blade up and down, left and right and hoping the enemy fell before she would. Growing up as she did, the thing she longed the most was power and she believed blacksmithing gave her the necessary environment to gain that strength. In reality, it only deepened the wound and made her realise her own foolishness. Thanks to Wymmel for initiating her into sparring, things were changing. She glanced at her blade, jolting it slightly. This felt like power to her, power that was there, within reach. Power that would be hers, even if it meant getting maimed in the process.

She perked up suddenly. “Let’s go again.”

Wymmel frowned. “Child, it’s quite late. The sun is almost down completely and we need to close the shop. We can spar again tomorrow,” he said, walking towards the inside of the shop.

“There’s still some more time, the sun is not completely down. Come on, let’s go again, and then we leave.”

“Amixia, I-”

“Please, Wymmel,” she said, raising her voice.

He paused, glancing at her with widened eyes. “You’re not goin-”

“I just want to go again, please. At least one hit I need to land on that training armor of yours,” she replied with her eyes focused on his sword, jerking her blade.

Finally, Wymmel sighed and smiled faintly. “You just don’t know when to give up,” he muttered to himself.

He gripped his blade and gestured for her to strike him. Amixia maintained her focus, planting her feet firmly in the ground, biting down on her lower lip as she thought about the best way to advance. Strike up? Can be a good idea, but his height is a clear disadvantage for her. It was obvious that her speed was something she could lean on to catch him off guard, but even then it was hard to determine where exactly to strike. The moves he taught her were useful, just not as much as she needed them to. Maybe striking at his feet could be a better idea, specifically in the lower part. Given their height difference, it should be difficult for him to block such an attack. Pulling the blade closer to her face she finally advanced, running as fast as she could. Wymmel prepared himself, glancing at her with a smirk on his face. He struck to the side, making Amixia duck and stumble as she stood back up, closing in on him. Wymmel balanced his weight on his right foot, shifting the other one quickly and meeting Amixia right as she was about to get behind him. Her eyes widened as she noticed his blade coming down and she blocked, pushing herself against his sword and rebalancing to strike again. Whirling, she swiped at his feet and noticing the blade coming closer and closer, she smiled confidently. Her blade stopped right before it could reach its destination and a loud bang echoed in the shop’s garden, a few people turning to look where it came from. Wymmel’s blade stood there, dug in the ground, blocking her advancements further. She cursed and flared her nostrils, stepping backwards.

“I was so close!” she said, clenching her palm with short, sudden shakes and letting out a frustrated sound.

“You were, but you forgot to glance up at me. Were you watching my movements?”

“I… I… wasn’t,” she admitted with a sigh. “I thought that by using my speed I could take you by surprise.”

“You can’t take me by surprise if I constantly see you, can you now?” he asked, chucking.

She glanced at him with squinting eyes. “This is not the right moment for jests, Wymmel.”

He raised his palms. “Apologies, child. But my point stands. You need to pay attention to your surroundings, not only to what you are trying to do, that way you won’t ever land a hit, not on an opponent that is taller and heavier than you. Not to mention more skilled than you,” he said, pacing inside the shop.

She glanced to her side, feeling a slight tremble emerge in her body. Nothing ever seemed to work in her favor. Her smithing? Terrible. Her sword fighting? Even worse. Wymmel was better than her in every aspect, just like everyone else had always been better than her. Stronger, faster, more skilled, more cautious. Worthless of her to try and pursue this, to try and become better when there was clearly nothing she could do in that regard. Nothing she could change. Her eyes fell on her arm and she clenched her jaw as she noticed it. Everyone was right about her; she had no place in this shop, no place sparring, no place doing anything physical. She was weak and that was how she would remain for the rest of her life. Just like he always said she would. Why was his face constantly haunting her, his words constantly telling her just how worthless she is, how incapable and weak she is? Were they all true? Maybe she deserved the beatings, the pain, the grief. Probably he thought he was strengthening her, molding her into what he wanted her to be. No. That man could never be right in anything he ever did or said. Amixia simply cannot allow the words of her father to be true, not after everything she lived through. The scars on her arms were proof as to why she must persist. She had what it took to be strong. Didn’t she?

“Amixia,” Wymmel said, waving his palm in her face.

He stood barely a few inches from her now. When did he come so close all of a sudden?

Wretched excuse of a father, she thought, sighing forcefully.

“Are you alright?”

She forced herself to nod.

“You’re lying to me,” he said, frowning.

Glancing at him, she forced herself to shake her head. Perhaps, her father was right. In beating her, in torturing her and her mother, in being a monster to them, in shaping her to be the woman she is today. Or the excuse of a woman she is, to be more precise. Things were never going her way and the more she realised that, the more her pain increased, throbbed harder, became more unrelenting in its pursuit to tear her down further. With each new day, with each new failure. Peace, if something like that ever existed, was not meant for her. Not even the love of Nakol was strong enough to heal her wounds. Which was a pity, for he was the only one that taught her the meaning of love. And still, after years spent together, it wasn’t enough. Hopefully at the end of her days, she would find some peace. Tears welled up in her eyes. Life isn’t capable of giving her that. Death maybe could.

“I’m… weak, right Wymmel?” she asked with a cracking voice, her lips downturning.

“Nonsense! You are not weak, Amixia. You just need to grow.”

“I am… you just don’t want to… hurt me by admitting it. Everyone said that I’m weak.”

Wymmel’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned in closer. “Child, what are you talking about? Who told you those things?”

“Everyone… everyone did. He did.”

“Who is he?”

Amixia paused for a moment and started to sob, tears finally flowing down her face. How foolish of her to not be able to hold the emotions in. Besides her hut, there was no other place safe enough to let it all out. Safe to cry, safe to dwell upon her troubles, without merciful eyes looking down on her, pitying her. Mercy meant one thing – that all she heard throughout her life was true. That she is indeed this tiny, meek person that her body says she is. Strength on the other hand, proved otherwise. Those merciful eyes shouldn’t be directed at her. People that saw her with such eyes needed to be shoved away, to be fought against, to be shown that they are wrong in their assumptions. Compassion was necessary as long as it came from Nakol and only him. Anyone else should mind their own issues.

Wiping her tears away, Amixia adjusted herself, entering the shop like nothing happened. Wymmel stood for a little while, visibly confused. I have no need for your pity, old man. Stop looking at me like that, she thought as she climbed on a ladder, dust flying with each step, and placed her sword up on the wall from where Wymmel took it. The sparring session of tomorrow must be better than that of today. Landing a hit was without question.

Wymmel adjusted his voice. “Child, why did you lie to me?”

Amixia gave no response and chose to pack her things up and return back to her hut. Wymmel was right; the sun was barely noticeable anymore. Training in the dark was going to be way worse than doing it in the sunlight. Yet, darkness at least hid them from Fayes. That way, at least she wouldn’t be seen by others as she failed.

“Amixia. You know you can talk to me.”

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“There is nothing to speak about,” she replied, sniffing. “I need to return to my hut.”

“There is clearly something troubling you. Something bad.”

She swiveled and eyed him. “I’m fine, Wymmel. Just tired.”

“Child, you can keep lying to yourself if you want, but I-”

“You what? Do you want to help me? What makes you think you can?”

He folded his arms, straightening his back. “What makes you think I cannot? If you won’t allow help to come your way, you won’t know.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“And this is another lie. Do you want me to start believing you a liar?”

“Believe me however you please!” she snapped at him, clenching her jaw. “I don’t care how you see me.”

“Amixia, I think your anger is misplaced.”

She turned away from him, sighing. Perhaps he was right. Lashing out at him, treating him this poorly, especially after all he did for her… maybe wasn’t the right choice. Still, the way he was insisting on this topic, when she clearly had no interest in discussing it any further, gave Amixia the feeling that he was trying too focused on solving her issues. The way he cared for her, helped her and showed up for her felt… strange. Too familiar, too caring, too involved. Too much like a parent.

“I don’t… need you to be my father,” she said, her voice cracking.

Wymmel placed his arms at his side, glancing down. “I see. I apologize for trying to be like this. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t… take it personally. Please,” she said, turning to meet him again, noticing his droopy eyes.

He smiled faintly. “I won’t. I just want to see you glad, not filled with anger or doubt. Or with grief.”

“I told you already… It's personal.”

“Refusing to talk about such things won’t make them vanish. I hope you understand that,” he said, placing his blade up on the wall and preparing to leave.

Wymmel was right. Refusing to accept the issues of her past and discuss them, to put them forth and actually work on them, did nothing but drag her further down. For the longest time possible, she believed that pushing down on them was the right call, that it was the only way her heart would have time to heal. That they won’t return to haunt her again. Fighting them was worthless, not to mention that the only times she did it, Nakol was actually doing the fighting on her behalf, trying to make her feel better through any means. And yet, what did pushing do for her? The whole idea of becoming a blacksmith was what she believed could change things, a desperate attempt to change her life for the better. Acquiring what she was always called out for. Little did she know that this decision would open her untended wounds too wide to ignore anymore.

If before she could control the grief, nowadays it throbbed so hard that it made her wish to simply sit in her hut, alone. Rage had been a part of her life since childhood, a thing she unfortunately received from her father. But never was it this… intense as it is now. Urging her to want to smash things into pieces and to lash out at people, just so she can prove what? Her strength. There was no strength in rage and she’s a fool to believe so. There was no power in pushing people away, people that wanted to help her grow, to become something better. Amixia cannot allow herself to constantly push down on her sentiments, to shove them so far down that they were unable to be seen. Until, of course, something would make them come out in a flurry. Terrible as it was, the truth was obvious – she needed help. A lot of help. Walking down this road, a road filled with sorrow and anger, with pain and suffering led nowhere. That isn’t who she must become. Not if she wished to be different from her father.

“You’re… right, Wymmel. I apologize for lashing out, I know it was rash of me to do. I come from a… troubled past and I find it hard to overcome it. I do… need help.”

Wymmel glanced up at her, beaming. “I’m glad you were honest with me. I am sorry, child. For your past.”

Amixia glanced downwards slowly, faking a smile. “So am I.”

He approached her sluggishly. “I may not know what you endured, but… well… you’re not alone. However, you cannot allow the past to control who you are, who you will be. No matter the pain you endured, you must not allow it to pull you down.”

“And… how… Do I do that? I tried. Many times,” Amixia replied, shrugging.

“You don’t allow it to shape your present. If in the past you were led to believe you were powerless, weak, unworthy, you were constantly made to feel that way by those in your life, you need to fight back against those things. They are nothing but lies.”

“I sometimes… fought… but it was futile. Nakol always tries to help me up, to help me grow, to make me feel better… but… it works only briefly. Until I fall again. And I fall hard.”

Wymmel reached Amixia and hugged her tight, and she planted her head in his chest.

“Oh, child, I know it’s hard. But remember, those things that were spoken to you, the feelings you were made to have, the way you were treated, they don’t say anything about you. They only say something about those that did these things.”

She perked up, glancing into his eyes, noting the joy in them. “But… they felt so real. The words, the things done to me… they were real.”

“And did you deserve receiving them?”

“I… don’t think so.”

“You didn’t. I may not know what exactly happened, but I can assume. You were just a child, Amixia. And compared to me, you still are,” he said, chuckling. “What I’m trying to say is that you are not to blame for what you endured. Nor will you ever be.”

Amixia smiled, her eyes getting less heavy. The words he said made her feel… safe. Listened. Tended to. Not even Nakol, throughout all the years they shared and all the experiences they had, was capable of stirring such a feeling in her. Yet a man she knew for a few months had a stronger impact than her husband. Why? Was it because she viewed him as a father, even if she didn’t want to admit it?

Her eyes widened with realization. Yes, that was exactly the reason why she felt this way. Lacking a real father, one that wouldn’t abuse her constantly for his own wretched pleasures, left a hole in her. A hole that Wymmel was now filling, with his love and compassion, with his ability to make her feel like a little girl again. Only this time, she wasn’t terrified. She was safe. She didn’t need to jolt every time he moved, to duck for incoming projectiles, to hide for when the… beatings would come her way. Now, Amixia could speak to someone older than her without fearing him. Could speak to a man far beyond her age and not tremble like a shivering dog, abandoned in the rain. She placed her hands around him and hugged him tight. And the more they stood embraced, the more Amixia could feel her anger dissipating, her grief taken from her, like an invisible hand pulling them out and tossing them away like pieces of dust.

“Thank you… honestly,” she said, smiling.

“No need to. I’m… doing what I should. What I should’ve always done.”

A note of sorrow in his voice made Amixia glance up at him. He gazed at the ground, lost in thoughts, his eyes shaking slightly. What got into him all of a sudden? Was it something she did?

“Wymmel, are you alright?”

He didn’t respond. Amixia jolted him and waved a hand across his face. Finally, he shook his head.

“I… apologize. I was reminded of something.”

“What?”

“It’s… not important, child. Just a thought, don’t worry about it.”

Amixia paced backwards and frowned. “You told me to be honest about my feelings and now you want to keep them hidden?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, chuckling nervously. “It doesn’t make me look good, does it now?”

She nodded and gave him a displeased look.

“Fine… I suppose you are right. Our discussion reminded me about something, something… I wished not to remember. It’s really no-”

“Wymmel, please. Tell me.”

He sighed deeply and scratched his head. “The truth is… I act the way I act because you… remind me of someone. Someone dear to me. Someone… I lost.”

Amixia’s mouth opened and her eyes narrowed. The man from before, the man she knew since joining the blacksmith, has suddenly changed. Sorrow flowed through him, almost flooding the entire shop in which they sat. Not only did he confirm her suspicion that he was trying to act as a father to her, but he did it unexpectedly. Joy had always been something only Wymmel was capable of feeling at all times, no matter how bad a situation looked and now… it felt like it wasn’t the same Wymmel that was sitting before her. Just a reminder of him. Of a distant Wymmel. She shivered. What could have happened to him to create such a sudden switch?

“You may have figured out that my name is not from these parts.”

“I figured. I never stopped to think about why that is the case.”

“Well, I am not from Faye. I came here two years ago, from the south, from a place called Yywan.”

Amixia leaned forward suddenly. “I heard about the place. Fayes talk about it being a very industrialized city and growing quite rapidly.”

“Now it’s growing, yes. When I used to live there, it was nothing more than a den of murderers and thieves, mugging people in broad daylight for food and lazugs. A place not welcoming to families.”

“And yet, you lived there.”

“I was foolish enough to, yes. My… wife didn’t want us to leave. Her parents were sick and needed treatment and so we stayed. And things got… worse.”

Wymmel glanced to the side, escaping Amixia’s eyes as his chin quivered. Poor old man. The more Amixia looked at him, the more pity she felt. Seeing him like this, on the point of crying, a completely different man than what she came to know, conflicted her. No, he shouldn’t shed tears, he’s stronger than this. Stronger than her. She needed him to be powerful. For her. Wymmel showed her too much compassion to go unnoticed. Now, it was her turn. Amixia approached and grabbed his hand, feeling its coarse texture and the little bumps from all the work he put it through.

“It’s alright, Wymmel. You can speak to me, I trusted you to do so, now it’s your turn.”

“It’s still a fresh wound. Otherwise it wouldn’t have bothered me so much.”

“Do you want to ignore it?”

He sighed, placing a palm on his forehead. “No. No I don't. One night I worked well into the night and as I returned home, I saw the main entrance open. Right as I stepped in, there was blood mixed with fragments of broken furniture and glass. And further down the hallway… I… I… saw them,” he said, struggling to speak as his voice trembled. “They were… dead… heads smashed, beyond recognition, my wife… naked… my… daughter…”

Amixia glanced to the side, closing her eyes and grimacing as she heard him speak. The image pierced through her head like a nail in the wall. The evilness that lived in some people was beyond her understanding. How could someone be like this? This vile? Lacking any sort of humanity? They deserved nothing more than to be tortured and to feel what they did. To feel what it’s like to suffer. Faye, for all its beauty and harmony, treated people too nice sometimes. Criminals were uncommon, but those that existed and caused chaos were always seen by the Matriarchy as needing love and guidance and to be accepted for their flaws and taught to be better. Love and guidance for someone that just committed a crime. The Matriarchy were wise women, but sometimes their judgments made no sense. People like this deserve nothing more than to be taught a lesson. A hard one. Taking a life, raping innocent people… that wasn’t something to glance over. Not if order was intended to be kept. Not if people cared about justice.

Her eyes squinted and her body tensed, squeezing Wymmel’s hand harder and harder.

Eventually, he eyed her. “I apologize if my story made you angry.”

She swung her head rapidly. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s those monsters that call themselves humans that need to. Abominations that walk Galaria and do as they please. Torturing. Inflicting so much pain that one would rather die than live.”

“Indeed. I agree with you.”

“I hope you taught them a lesson for what they’ve done.”

Wymmel shook his head. “I did nothing.”

Her eyes widened explosively. “What? What do you mean? You just let them go? No authority involved itself in this matter?”

“Yywan is not a place known to be friendly with authority. Or at least it wasn’t when I lived there. So no, I took no action. I just… left.”

She paused and took a few steps back. Doing nothing? When your entire family gets murdered? If she were in Wymmel’s place, she would have strangled them to death, she would have humiliated them before they were given the chance to ask for help and when they eventually did, she would’ve pushed harder, just so they could feel what it meant to suffer. To be tortured. Sometimes, she hated the idea that her father was no more. Because if he was still here, she wouldn’t have wasted another moment to enact revenge upon the bastard for all the suffering he inflicted. A pity he had to die so soon. And an even bigger pity that she didn’t get to see it at least, to savor it fully.

“I cannot believe this, Wymmel. Those bastards need punishment. Real punishment. They shouldn’t be allowed to breathe anymore, let alone walk without consequences. How could you?”

“Amixia, I had my time to dwell upon this,” he said, turning away from her, walking towards his desk with his head slightly bowed. “I had time to make peace with myself. It was my fault for what happened to them. I should’ve been there, not working. I should’ve been more… present.”

Amixia folded her arms together. “You cannot seriously believe this is your fault.”

“Well, I don’t have to believe it to know it’s true. I neglected them, I knew what the people of Yywan were capable of, I knew danger lurked around any corner. But I was… too afraid to do anything.”

Her arms dropped slowly. “Why?”

“Because… I knew I stood no chance against the crimes that rampaged through the streets. So I thought that by working more, by gaining more lazugs, eventually I could… get them out of there. Even if Yowa was against this idea. I could’ve… forced her somehow. So I worked harder and harder, days and nights, skipping dinners, becoming more and more absent. Until… my actions came back to haunt me,” he replied, placing his arms on the desk, his head falling downwards.

Amixia was left stunned. In a way, she saw how his plan could have worked, but she couldn’t deny how he had to step up against them. Leaving the criminals that murdered his family unpunished was the worst thing he did, not ignoring them to provide a better future. They could have still forgiven him, if they were still alive. Now, there’s no one left to do so.

Still, even if she was shocked to hear his inaction, she couldn’t judge the man too harshly. The instant shift in him made it clear that this situation was difficult. Unbearable even. Living as she did, she knew better than to keep on annoying him with the way she sees things. He needs peace and reassurance that he did what he could.

She paced towards him. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Wymmel. But you don’t need to blame yourself for it. You said that yourself.”

“I know what I said. Sometimes it’s just hard to follow my own advice.”

She chuckled. “I know the feeling. While I still want to punch you for doing nothing against the bastards, I… understand you. In a way. I just wish justice was served.”

Wymmel stood up, glancing at her. “Maybe we’re not meant to bring justice upon others. Isn’t the Mother supposed to do that?”

Amixia shrugged. “As far as I know, yes. Still… I find it hard to understand how nature itself can judge criminals after they die.”

“I guess we will find out for ourselves. Eventually.”

“Probably.”

“Thank you, child.”

Amixia beamed at him. “No need to. I’m doing what I should.”

Wymmel laughed, acknowledging that she stole his own words. “Indeed. Indeed you are,” he said, gazing into her eyes and seeing his own daughter in them.