Kenneth walked along the street, passing whispering Aki after whispering Aki while holding the painting.

  There had been a little haggling but nothing worth mentioning.

  Kenneth wasn’t truly sure how to feel about anything that had happened lately, but he did know one thing. He was tired and just wanted a break.

  With that in mind, he just walked straight home and threw himself on his bed, but of course, not before carefully placing the painting he’d bought on the floor.

  He wasn’t too tired to actually sleep, so he just let himself relax and think about stuff like how many times people have tried to behead him and other such fun things.

  Kenneth wasn’t sure how long he stayed in bed, but eventually, the door to the living room swung open.

  Kenneth opened one eye and saw it was Nya.

  “There you are,” She said. “You know how hard it is to find you?”

  “I can imagine,” Kenneth responded.

  “So, how does it feel?” Nya asked teasingly.

  “How does what feel?” Kenneth asked back as she sat down on her bed.

  Oh, I don’t know,” Nya said sarcastically. “Perhaps healing the burning death, a feat, mind you, only Uloko and the combined fortitude of a hundred healers have ever managed to do.”

  “I… suppose it feels good,” Kenneth answered in a bored tone of voice.

  “You could sound a little more excited, you know,” Nya chuckled, her tail swinging from side to side as she lay on her side. “Do you even know what the people of the outpost are saying?”

  “Let me guess,” Kenneth said, his deep voice even deeper and sounding almost like a frog's ribbit in a strange way. “Oh, finally, the abomination is leaving. I hope I’m the one who gets to burn down the wagon he’s in.”

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Well, yes, there was a little of that in the beginning,” Nya admitted. “But after that, every time Ki and Di traded places, more and more of that kind of talk died down and was replaced with questions.”

  “Why isn’t the wagon getting burned yet? The abomination is probably only buying time, right? You don’t really think it can do it, right? Why is the food tasting so good now with the abomination gone?”

  “Now everyone is talking about how you healed the burning death and that the party tonight is only because of you,” Nya said in a happy tone of voice.

  “Oh really,” Kenneth responded, only really half listening.

  “Wait, what party,” Kenneth said, bewildered, sitting up.

  “Yes, not too long ago, the merchant said he’d throw a party in honor of his son's health and good fortune,” Nya said happily as she rolled in bed excitedly, her mouth getting wetter at the thought of floor juice.

  “If I hadn’t said before, I’ll say it now. Thanks, I didn’t think I’d get something good to drink this year.”

  “Errrrr… don’t mention it,” Kenneth said, slightly confused.

  For a moment, he thought about what he’d just been told, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, “That sly old fox.”

  “Did you say something?” Nya asked as she sat up.

  “It was nothing,” Kenneth responded, still chuckling.

  “Oooooooooooooooookay,” Nya responded.

  Kenneth thought it was strange how she said it and looked over, but as he did, Nya fell on her knees.

  “Nya, are you okay!” Kenneth yelled as he jumped out of bed.

  She didn’t respond; she only pointed straight ahead and seemed to try and say something but couldn’t.

  Kenneth followed the finger and saw it was the painting she was pointing at.

  “Oh, that,” Kenneth said, relieved. “I bought it from Solk, the merchant.”

  “I-I-I-I… so…” Nya stuttered, unable to say anything coherent.

  “Noktato,” Nya eventually uttered in her somewhat dazed state.

  “Who?” Kenneth asked.

  “You don’t know who Noktato is!” Nya exclaimed as she looked at him as if he was brain-dead until she remembered who she was talking to. “Oh, for a moment, I forgot you aren’t. Never mind.”

  “Noktato is the biggest heretic of them all, bigger than even Silvaka. Do you even know what this painting depicts?” Nya said, her tail and her ears moving almost independently of her body.

  “Can’t say that I do,” Kenneth said, sitting back on the bed. “Kind of been teaching more than I’ve been taught.”

  “Well, then, how about I educate you,” Nya said as she got off her knees. “This painting depicts the beginning of the end. Or the first major battle in the four-hundred-year war on the flatlands.”

  “More precisely, it depicts the battle between the two champions, Noktato, the accursed spear, and the blessed Akina, the mighty shield.”

  “Akina!” Kenneth uttered in surprise.