![]() ![]() Half-collapsed buildings and homes littered the outskirts of the town. ![]() He walked down the dusty road back into Khorell, the pouch of coins heavy in his hand, but regret and anxiety heavier in his heart. Rathen looked at the blade one last time. Eight gold or take your sword and be gone. What? I received that sword from King Delvant himself and it served me well for over a decade. Well… he spoke as he looked over every part of the blade. The merchant took the blade and tossed the scabbard onto a pile of old leather in a wagon next to him. He handed the man both the sword and scabbard. Well, give it here, the merchant said, with his hand held out. The forged metal held an ornate beauty only matched by its razor-sharp deadliness. It was a symbol of his strength and unyielding dedication as a commissioned captain. The surface of the blade bore the nicks and scars that evidenced the many battles it had seen. He gripped the tarnished metal handle and held it up in the sunlight. Rathen pulled his sword from its worn leather scabbard. ![]()
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