A Heavy Blade

The Blade drags her feet as she trudges back towards home. Each step is heavy, feet barely leaving the ground and often dragging through the thin layer of soot now covering the ground. The Blade is usually an image of strength, pride, and respect with her perfect royal red overcoat and spotless white undershirts. Today, she still commands respect of those who watch her pass but this time the respect comes from fear and awe. The once pristine clothing that made her seem larger than life was in tatters, revealing her short but powerful frame. No one approached, no one offered her a hand as she moved through the fields back towards her home.

If you believed the rumours, she dethroned kings and tore down governments during her youth. She even had a name during that time, but it was long lost to all but her own memory. It may not even be within her mind anymore since it is apparently fractured by the voices from thousands of gods and spirits. The rumours brought her the name of The Blade, but you did not call her that on the rare public appearance, just Madam.

The actions this morning was those of the rumours, a glimpse into the past long abandoned and fled. A single farmer says that he witnessed her marching past his barn as the sun was partially hidden beyond the treeline. The Blade was in her usual royal red overcoat but now wore a helmet with a fixed crown of jewels, a quiver of arrows on her back, and the tip of scabbard could be seen peaking below the length of the coat. No more than an hour later, the smell of burning could be found on the wind and soon after the sky began to revert to a blackened state even as the sun continued to rise. For the rest of the morning, the smoke continued to thicken but now came the smell of flesh. We were all too frightened to approach the source until a few curious children got close enough to make out the scene. According to them, The Blade was standing with her weight upon her sword as it pushed into the earth below. A fire raged in a large ring towards her left, dying slowly as the fuel ran out except for the bodies that were freshly fallen. In front of her were just three figures standing in a wide line. The closest held a massive claymore and stood tall, the furthest held a thick crossbow and a small dagger at their waist, and finally the third was just a young boy with a round shield and short sword. The next events happened so quickly that the children were arguing over the correct order of events, but the ending was all the same. The tallest figure took a single step towards The Blade, apparently speaking but the children could not hear, only see the movement of the jaw before it abruptly ended. Ezekiel claims to have seen The Blade move in blur as she raised a hand from within her coat and fired from a small crossbow straight into the figure’s throat. The silence that held from that interruption may have lasted hours or seconds; the children do not know. Next thing they saw was a crossbow bolt fly through the hanging coat of The Blade but that she was already upon the bowman, thrusting with her sword. The boy was all who remained opposing The Blade, scared and shaking he stared towards her, now charging with his shield before his eyes and sword held high. He was no match.

Word arrived before she did, children run fast when scared. Now The Blade drags her feet as she trudges back home. Each step is heavy, feet barely leaving the ground. The only sound is a sword that clinks as it strikes rocks beneath the thin layer of soot it is dragged through and a small murmur heard from The Blade, repeated over and over. “You choose blood, you choose blood, blood for the blood god, skulls for the skull throne, you choose blood.”