Legends said that divine power had sealed the mighty greatword Chandrabolg in place for a chosen hero to draw it, but it was clear that the weight and length was the real challenge.
I had watched a good few Holy Knights try prying it from its resting place, many of whom were my seniors. One Master-Class Paladin, the second highest in ranking for our kind, had tried with every expectation that it would happen. According to my master, this Paladin would either have pulled Chandrabolg out, or ripped the stone holding it out of the ground with it. Yet when his moment came, he couldn’t shake it loose. A half hour of struggling, grunts of effort, and eventually cursed shouting came and went as the Master-Class could not lift the thing to save his life.
When he eventually gave up, or rather my master told him to stop trying to snap the thing in two, it was my turn. I stood there the entire time and studied how my fellow Paladin had gripped the hilt, hoisted with his legs, and gave it everything he had, but there was something that bothered me.
Chandrabolg was placed blade down into the stone, but ever so slightly, it was leaned back in angle. It became clear that since the blade was too tall for your average human, almost unwieldy, most people would use their legs and back to try to pry it out like they were ripping an errant tree stump out. In doing so, they pressed the end of the blade buried beneath further against the stone, making it even harder to budge.
So when I took a stone platform to stand on, leaned forward, and drew it out in one go, you could imagine how upset people were at the sight.
“He used foul methods to pull the blade, look how he posed as he drew it, almost ghoulish in nature!”
“He did not use any oaths or prayers to draw it!”
“The Master-Class did all the work, how can this whelp be called a hero after riding on his back to success?”
The sneers and jeers were my applause as I held the greatsword up high. I didn’t mind, though. They were the witnesses to a great day, even if they didn’t accept it yet. My teacher, however, was just as jubilant as I was.
“All of you, praise be this glorious moment,” he started. “And yet I see nothing but scowls and mutters. Since when did we tear down our allies for the sake of pride?”
The grumbles went from an uproar to murmurs, like a sputtering batch of children still unable to contain themselves with a scolding gone sour. As I stepped off the stone platform and tested the weight of the blade, heavier than anything I imagine, my teacher continued.
“The fifth chapter of our Holy Scriptures reads as follows. ‘We raise our friends onto shoulders, and those seeking penance to knees’,” as he went on, others, including myself, vocalized with him. Some were less enthusiastic than others, however.
“Cherish every triumph, and harbor any sorrow. We seek not the destruction of others, but rather the continued creation of our fortunes.” we said in unison.
“That’s right.” my teacher finished. “We cannot blame Adrian for his triumph, or tear down those who have fortune. This is a day to celebrate. This is the day the Holy Knights turn a holy relic into a symbol of hope. Chandrabolg has risen once more.”
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“But master,” a younger Holy Knight chimed. “Chandrabolg can only be drawn when evil arises and a hero is needed! We’ve no enemies at this time, does this mean the prophecy is false?”
“Enemies? Evil?” Teacher scoffed at each word. I looked to him as he weighed each title, and a saddened look had flashed over his face for only a moment before returning to his stoic pose. The age was well worn on his face from years of service. He didn’t have much time left in his life to crusade, let alone preach to his students.
“Evil lurks in the heart of every man and woman, suppressed and casted out with every hope they get. Enemies… enemies are the people that cannot stand to reason or hope. This sword will bear both to witness. The Holy Knights, and especially our Paladins,” he added ruefully, looking at the young man. “Will be uniform under a legendary relic that is said to master the power of Aether itself.”
Aether, the fifth element, is the power that this shrine has long since represented in sacred duty. While Fire, Water, Air and Earth were the elements that claimed balance in the world, Aether has always been the element Paladin strived to tame. It is the element of both balance, and ascension. The power to call from light above, and further still. Wielding Aether as an element is akin to touching the hem of the divine, and even harnessing the smallest amount is what separates the Paladins from Holy Knights. Paladins can wield Aether, Holy Knights cannot. The distinction is what offers people like myself the ability to heal wounds, and cast down divine smites on my foes. All Holy Knights strive to become Paladins in this regard.
As I raised Chandrabolg to the ceiling of the shrine, assuming the Lion’s Humility stance. I felt the sword begin channeling its own mana from my own. The blade began to glow with a golden hue, the soft light brightening the Holy Knights around me. As they gazed into the light, they felt comfort and warmth. Some closed their eyes in relief, while others stared on in wonder. While some held dubious expressions, many faces held something different.
It was, as the teacher surmised, a look of hope. Of a future untold that holds prosperous riches for our people.
“And there you have it. The sword has clearly accepted him as its wielder.” The teacher finished. Many nodded as others continued to stare. I was among them, mere inches from the blade as I saw my own face.
The center of the blade was a soft bevel to meet the two edges, and I was startled with what I saw. On one side, I saw myself, confident and proud, with my chin raised as I had myself now, but on the other side…
Anger, despair. My face remained contorted as though I was in agony, in complete contrast to the other side. I focused in horror as I saw my uglier side writhe in spite of my stillness. This can’t be me, I thought. It was looking right at me, it’s face graying and skin ripping from invisible seams…
And it was smiling, a mischievous and devilish smile. Like it was the only other person that knew a secret I dared not share.
I closed my eyes. I felt both sides of my reflection boring into my face, as if waiting for me to peek back once more. I couldn’t look at myself like this, no matter the reason. Why would Chandrabolg, the legendary holy blade, reflect my face like this? Was it revealing the dark echelons of my soul to me to witness, to remind me that my body is not pure? I strive for my best, I have given everything for this. Surely, it wouldn’t reject me here?
The blade didn’t reject me, though. It stayed in my hands, still glowing with the comfort and warmth as it had moments before. I couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind all of this, but in the end, it stayed by my side. I would be a Paladin.
My grip on it remained iron tight. It was our new symbol of hope, after all, and I hope I can be the one that stood at its equal.