2
The next morning Rone was up early. He had spent most of the night watching over the old ranger, making sure he did not need anything. His mind racing with thoughts of how best to begin his search.
He had just lit his cob pipe and sat down on the steps of the main house to think when master Decker came from the corner of the house. Decker Forgerun was both master craftsman and swordmaster for the Thorn Callers. His grace and deadliness with a blade were only matched by his expertise at working metals.
Rone had spent many a day in his training circles, getting his head and body covered with bruises from the wooden training swords Decker’s used during his lessons. Many times, Decker had told him he was both the best and worst student he had ever seen.
Praising his natural affinity for using two swords, while often scolding his brash and sometimes hot temper in the same breath.
The swordmaster was a Mortalis, slender, and tall. The years spent working a forge had nearly perfected the tone of his muscles. Giving his veins the defining appearance of leather chords, that showed just under the skin.
His hair was the coppery color of a cedar tree, which he kept in a neat ponytail. And his deep brown eyes spoke of a greater strength lying behind them. He moved with the grace of an elf. Which Rone always saw as another sign there was more to the man than just his crafting.
As Decker approached the bottom of the steps, Rone heard the low growl that emanated from Fang. The big wolf had never cared for the swordmaster, and Rone could never understand why.
Perhaps it was from seeing the beatings he took while training, during which Fang would sometimes get aggressive. At times to the point of having to be sent away.
Except for the last two times. Rone had won those sparring matches, causing Fang to howl in joyful approval. Which seemed to upset the swordmaster, who prided himself on the fact he was rarely ever beaten in a fair fight.
“Easy boy,” Rone said over his shoulder. Causing the blink wolf to huff his disapproval, but again lay down and pretend to be sleeping.
“One day, me and that thing is going to discuss our dislike of each other,” Decker said, glaring at Fang.
“I’d almost like to see that,” Rone replied with a smile.
“What brings you out so early?” He asked, curiously noticing the large item Decker was carrying.
He couldn’t make out what it was because of the way it was wrapped in a horse’s blanket. And unfortunately, nothing of the contents could be seen without first unfolding it.
“I hear you're going on a quest for Maximillian?” He asked, eyeing Rone intently.
“If that is so, I would assume it pertains to saving his life?” He added with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.
“If I have my way, it does,” Rone replied, taking another puff of his pipe.
“Then, I wish to offer what assistance I can. That old man is the reason I am alive, and I would see him well again.” Decker said with an expression that gave the impression there was much more to that story.
Rone considered asking what he meant when the swordmaster began unraveling the blanket he was holding. Causing Rone to shift his focus toward what lay hidden beneath its layers.
As the last fold unfurled, he was astonished by the sight of two blades. They were the most beautifully crafted long swords he had ever seen.
The first was of a metal he did not recognize, giving its blade a blackish hue that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the early mornings light.
The second was for all appearances, the exact opposite. Its blade was of the finest steel, so polished and gleaming that it seemed to emit light all on its own.
Rone stared at the beautiful weapons only to be surprised again when Decker held them out for him to grasp.
“These are the most prized weapons I have ever created. The first is called Shadow Foil. It will help you to hide in the shadows around you. Deepening and drawing them to you when you need to pass unseen.
The second is called LightVein. It will illuminate even the darkest places you could travel to. May it’s shining light always lead you from harm.
Rone looked up at the swordmaster in disbelief.
“Master Decker, I can’t take these. I have no way of knowing if I will have luck in my quest, or whether I could return them soon.” It hurt that he could not take such a wonderful gift, but he did not want to take the swordmaster's most prized possessions.
That’s when he caught the look of disappointment in the man’s eyes. He suddenly realized he might have offended him. He quickly tried to correct this statement by adding,
“I would love nothing more than to wield such wonderous blades, but I fear for their loss should something happen to me.”
He saw the spark of appreciation for his praise of the weapons and breathed a small sigh of relief as he genuinely did not mean to offend his friend and teacher.
“I wish for you to have them, Rone. If they can aid you in your search to help Maximilian. Then in some small way, I have helped as well.
My adventuring days are over. I have accepted this fate, but blades such as these need to be wielded. They deserve to be in the hands of an excellent swordsman, and I can think of none finer. If you can only level that hot head of yours, that is.” He added with a smile as he held the blades out even further.
Rone looked at them once more and slowly reached out to grasp their hilts. As his fingers closed around the pommels, he could feel the magic of their enchantments surging through his palms. The one called Light Vein flared to life, it’s brilliant light shining with the strength of ten torches.
So bright was it that Rone had to turn his eyes away from it. The blade finally settled, and he willed the light to fade. Shadow Foil now seemed to know it was its turn, as Rone began to shimmer. He now blended so well into the shadow being cast of the main house by the morning sun. That even Fang had to sniff the air to get a sense of where he stood.
He flipped the blade in a perfect arc end over end, catching it quickly by the hilt again. Then extending it outward, pointing it toward some imaginary enemy. Light vein as well seemed to move of its own will, effortlessly flicking outward in a mock parry in his hand.
He had never felt a better-balanced set of blades. The two of them worked in perfect unison, each seeming to balance the other. With each parry or thrust he cast, the blades seemed to become more comfortable to use.
After he was through testing them, he pulled his two regular swords from their sheaths on his back and handed them to Decker with a smile. Sliding his new ones into them, he noticed they fit perfectly.
He bowed his head and thanked Decker for such a marvelous gift, then swore that he would wield them with honor.
Decker placed a firm hand on his shoulder and locked eyes with him.
“Honor is fine, Rone, but I’d rather you swear to find a cure for our friend.” Rone gripped his shoulder in return and with a conviction that a priest of the high temple would be proud of, swore that oath as well.
After his meeting with Decker had ended. Rone went into the main house to say his goodbyes and get supplies for his journey. He had decided he would go to the city of Crag Moor first, to seek council with the mages of the Crimson Order.
An eccentric bunch of mages that studied and conducted their magic experiments within the confines of the Crimson Tower. A massive structure that rose high above the city, overlooking the bay of battery.
A shipping port, that for as long as the city has stood. Has been able to repel every naval attack it ever had. Be it from pirates or rival city-states. Part of the reason they have always managed to withstand any such attack. Is due in large part to the handy work of said mages.