“Ohh, Sword-smasher Bavor’s set. You have discerning taste.”
“There are many users of blades.”
Some demons had outer shells that were hard and smooth. Blades weren’t very effective against enemies like that because the blade would slide and leave you open. If we needed to, both Reystov and I could perform stunts like using our swords to deal a blunt-force hit or strike at the joins in their shells. Even so, I was grateful to have at least one person with a blunt weapon.
“Bavor was a wandering dwarven warrior, not part of any clan, but he had a playful personality. He was a master at bending and smashing blades of any kind, but he was friendly, you see. I don’t get on well with dwarves, but he could hold a friendly conversation even with me. He had that kind of wonderful warmth to him.”
“Oh?”
“He took part in the defeat of the High King. He called it revenge for the Iron
Mountains.”
As Ghelreis listened to this anecdote of a hero of his race, a subtle smile crossed his scarred face.
I heard Menel’s doubting voice again. “Oh, come on, don’t you think that’s just a bit too heavy?”
“No, I can handle it, I think.”
I turned around to see Al holding a hefty halberd, tentatively and gingerly swinging it and pulling it in as Menel watched him. It had a pretty bulky construction and was made fully of metal right down to the handle.
“Yes, it’s okay. I can swing it, no problem.”
“Ohh! That’s some impressive strength you have to be able to swing that around.” Gus was blinking his eyes in astonishment. “Its former owner was Ewen the Immense.”
I remembered hearing that name in Blood’s stories when I was a child.
“Skill aside, he was Blood’s twin in monstrous power. He had a round body and was always smiling. He was a good guy. He wasn’t very fond of fighting, though. If things had been more peaceful, he might have been able to continue as a skilled farmer, who knows.”
He’d had Blood’s back during the battle against the High King, plowing down the demons without end until he himself was ended.
It wasn’t just Ewen the Immense, it was Sword-smasher Bavor and Silver-string Telperion, too — in fact, all these heroes that Gus was now speaking of and that Blood had spoken of fondly in the past had lost their lives for the sake of the effort to defeat the High King. Each one of the hundreds of weapons and pieces of armor filling this armory had a story, and each of those stories was now concluded, the final period struck by war and death. Now only these arms still slept here in silence, with many stories that once mattered greatly to someone locked away inside them.
I found myself in prayer, as if something had prodded me to do it. I felt like it would have been wrong not to.
God, god of the flame, please, wherever they may go—
I whispered. “Let there be guidance and repose.”
When I returned from my transcendent state of prayer, Gus was smiling at me. It was a different smile from normal, a smile that seemed to say he was thinking fondly of his old home.
“Hey, Gus?”
“What?”
“After I do something about the mountain demons and the dragon and come home again, can I bring this poet girl back here with me? She’s a halfling and she does get a bit excited… if that’s still okay.”
“Sure, do what you want. I’d be happy to tell her any story she wants told.”
Gus really was wise. He was very quick to understand what I wanted.
“Thanks.” So many stories here had gone untold. I was sure that Bee would be very glad to retell them.
“Say…”
“Hm?”
“By the way, Will…”
“Yeah?”
“Could that girl be…” Gus’s eyes shone expectantly.
“She’s a good friend, but we don’t have the relationship you’re hoping for.”
Gus’s shoulders drooped. For some reason, he looked terribly disappointed.
After that, we found some well-built dwarven armor for Al as well. This city was originally a place where both humans and dwarves lived, so there was plenty of armor for the dwarven physique.
How was it that dwarves, a foreign race, had lived here? That had struck me as strange once or twice when I was training in the underground city, but now I understood. This lakeside city was a transfer point for trade with the Iron Country, which was why people and dwarves lived together here. Its ruins told of a prosperous city, big and wealthy to the point that Torch Port as it stood right now didn’t even compare. It must have been a place full of smiling faces.
I wondered — I wondered if one day I would be able to bring such a sight back to this area and this city. Would I be able to smash apart the demons’ schemes, avoid being roasted by the dragon’s flames, safeguard the peaceful activity of the city and help it to grow? I wanted to.
As I thought about this, I picked out a few items from the many weapons and pieces of armor here.
“A big shield?”
“Yes.” I nodded back to Reystov. “As a measure against dragon breath.”
It was an impressively large and obviously heavy-duty shield, big enough for a person to hide their entire body behind, and it had the Word of Protection engraved upon it countless times. The circular shield I’d been using so far was useful, and I intended to keep on using it, but that shield’s primary emphasis was portability.
“Considering our opponent, the bigger the shield, the better.”
There were disadvantages as welclass="underline" the larger shield would make it more difficult for me to attack with my own weapon, and its increased weight would be more of a pain to handle. However, I now had enough strength and skill that I didn’t have to give even the slightest thought to those differences.
“And some additional armor…”
I added on several pieces of metal armor. When I left this temple years ago, I had no idea how far I was going to have to travel, so I couldn’t possibly have worn these. But now that I knew the rough distance to the field of battle, that wasn’t a problem anymore.
“And this.”
It was a pretty thick — in other words, heavy — dagger with straight edges and a well-sharpened point.
“Hm? What’s up with that dagger?” Menel said. “Isn’t the handle the wrong way?”
“Ah, you’re right,” Al said, peering at it. “That’s unusual.”
“It’s meant to be worn on your right.”
Most bladed weapons are worn on the left of the body. That’s to enable the familiar movement of holding the sheath in place with the left hand while the right hand grips the handle and pulls it out. However, this stiletto had been made to be worn on the right, to make it convenient to pull out in a grappling situation.
It was made so that if you got into a close quarters fight where it might be quite difficult to draw your weapon, you could conclude everything with two actions: first, grabbing the handle with your dominant right hand and pulling it out with a backwards grip, and second, swinging it down forcefully.
“You take this, Al, and get yourself used to it. I’m sure that halberd will come in useful, but you aren’t going to be very nimble with it.”
“Oh! Okay! Umm… Who owned this dagger?”
“My dad.”
Al’s eyes went wide in shock. “I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay. Take it.”
Blood had once told me with a proud grin that this right-wield was a great trick. He said that he had claimed victory over countless monsters and formidable opponents in situations where he couldn’t use his more familiar two-handed sword. He had even brought it to that final battle, so there was no doubt it was one of his favorites.