“It is an honour to meet someone from the Order of Black Mountain,” Lady Marcia said, pouring Dunes some wine from her wineskin. It was fruit wine reserved for the officers stationed within the minor fort. It was only slightly more refined than the alcohol meant for the rest of the troops, which they were allowed to drink once a week or so, or when they could order some from nearby travelling merchants authorised by the nearby nobles.
“It is an honour to be welcomed within your fort,” Dunes replied, flashing a charming smile, bowing his head lightly. “An audience with the Commander of the fort is not something I would refuse.”
Marcia was certain the noblewoman with them would have accepted her invitation, but she wasn’t going to shirk Dunes. There must have been a reason as to why they had sent him instead. “I hope the swill is to your liking.”
Dunes smiled. “It is not the alcohol, but the company, which makes the meeting.” Dunes sipped wine, before making a face. “Though…” His face relaxed into a smirk. “A good drink certainly helps.”
Marcia smiled, taking a sip of her own wine from the tiny cup. “I am inclined to agree.”
“I would like to apologise for Adam, and the Iyrmen,” Dunes began, still smiling brightly. “Adam is quite the fool, a good man, but a fool, and the Iyrmen… well, they’re Iyrmen.”
“I should dare not call any man a fool who seems to lead such a band of mighty warriors, and one who works for an enchanter, no less?”
“Would you like to hold the blade the Enchanter created for me?” Dunes asked, and after a bow of the Commander’s head, Dunes unstrapped his sword belt, holding the blade’s sheath flat, near both ends for her to take. He offered the blade in the old Aswadian way, and not the way of the newer Aswadians and the Aldishmen.
Marcia plucked the sheath from his hands, holding the handle of the blade. She drew it slowly, noting the jagite blade, not true jagite, but that which was sold to the masses, though it still held some respect. It was pricier than typical steel, and considered better forged. She eyed up the flakes of gems within the metal, almost perfectly smooth to the touch, only the slightest difference between the materials, betraying that it wasn’t true jagite. The gentle tingle of magic ran through her fingers, clasping against the hilt tighter.
“It is a Basic Enhanced blade, one with the ability to allow me to strike true a few times a day, and to regain some of my vigour when I do so,” Dunes said. “A worthy weapon to use in Lady Arya’s name.”
‘It has so many abilities?’ Marcia thought. Most magical weapons were of the Basic variety, that which allowed one to bypass the resistances of certain creatures, but also struck truer and heavier than mundane weapons. There were some which only held the property that they were magical, but they were far and few between, and worth much less than the likes of the typical Basic weapon.
However, if a weapon held more than just that property, it was considered Basic Enhanced. Some Basic Enhanced weapons, though in the category of Basic Enhanced, were even greater than Greater or Greater Enhanced weapons. A weapon such as Dunes would be able to match the likes of some Greater Enhanced weapons.
“Ah,” Dunes said. “It also strike greater than some blades, with its fire.”
“What a magnificent blade,” Marcia said, brushing along the blade’s side. Many Basic Enhanced weapons also held a certain amount of charges to deal additional damage, and to hear this blade was the same, it made sense.
However, that was not what Dunes had said. Dunes had said it struck greater than other blades with its fire, not that it held charges like Wraith or Phantom. It, technically, dealt more damage than most weapons, even weapons like Wraith and Phantom, if one was to ignore the fact they were Greater weapons.
Marcia realised this was the perfect blade for the likes of a Guardian, those who swore their oaths, for they could use those charges for striking true and the damage, along with their own smites, and to regain their vigour too? Such a weapon was more than worth its weight in gold.
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‘Five thousand gold would be too little for a blade like this…’ Marcia tried to imagine how high the price would be if auctioned to nobles across the land. ‘There is a chance it would reach ten thousand, and yet this… Expert is walking around with it so casually?’
“It must serve you so well,” Marcia said, already feeling her coveting such a fine blade. There was a way to gain the blade without spending any gold at all, but the price was far too high. She sheathed the blade and held it out, holding it as one might do to casually hand over a blade, holding it by the sheath with a hand, while Dunes took it by grabbing just above her hand. It was the Aldish way of returning the blade, as an Aswadian might have said, though it was the most common way in many parts of the world, and even across their own land.
“It does,” Dunes replied, not admitting he barely ever used such a fine blade. “The Enchanter has shown me such great favour, though it was only through the Executives I was able to gain such a blade.”
“What did you do to deserve such a fine blade?”
Dunes leaned back, holding the blade tight in hand. “I do not know.”
“What?”
“No, it’s not that I do not know, but rather, I have not yet done much to deserve such a blade,” Dunes stated. “It is an investment.”
Marcia wondered how she could coax out more without sounding so offensive. ‘What a foolish thought.’ “To invest in a priest who is able to use Third Gate spells, and the member of the Order of Black Mountain, this enchanter is surely wise.”
“Most wise,” Dunes admitted, barely able to hide his smirk. To go from calling Adam a fool to calling him most wise, how could he not smirk?
“Lady Marcia,” a voice called through the door, before the veteran knocked against it.
“You may enter, captain,” Marcia replied.
Sir Katherine stepped inside, allowing the Commander to save some face. She noted the appearance of Dunes, bowing her head towards the young man, who was a member of a prestigious order within Aswadasad, one which made its home within their ally’s lands.
“I have heard many great things about the Order of the Black Mountain,” Katherine said. “I had the pleasure of meeting Basim many years ago, when I was training with my mentor in the mountains south of the desert.”
“Ah, Kal Basim?” Dunes replied, recalling the heavily bearded Aswadian, someone who had spent some times training Dunes. Though, Kal Basim was a Guardian, so the training was mostly limited to weapon training, with some lighter magical training every so often. He was also one of the order’s Sheaths. “Was your meeting… amicable?”
“Quite. I was paired with Kal Basim when we were still both training under our mentors. He assisted in escorting us through the mountains. His skill with a blade was of course as expected, though I did not fight beside him, rather, I fought behind him,” she said, placing her bow beside her. “It was around that time the name Mad Dog was becoming a distant memory.” The woman’s eyes fell to Marcia.
“You have mentioned the name several times,” Marcia noted, realising that was why the woman had arrived to meet with her. “Who was he?”
Dunes let out a long exhale, his eyes falling to the older woman, the pair sharing a look.
“Do you know of the tale of the Mad Dog?” Katherine asked.
“I have been told the tale a few times recently, sometimes from the man himself,” Dunes replied.
“You speak of him as though he is a nightmare,” Marcia stated, feeling the heaviness among the pair.
“His tale is second to who he is, for he is a man who brings trouble even to the Great Elders of the Iyr,” Dunes said. “Not just him, but one of his grandsons too.”
“If it is Mad Dog, then it understandable,” Katherine said, allowing Marcia to pour her a cup of wine. “Mad Dog was a name from before even my own time. He was the kind to clash against so many great names, but most of those names have also been forgotten. When the pair were still making names for themselves, Flame Blade and Mad Dog clashed together, and it was said to have ended in a draw.”
‘Flame Blade?’ Marcia thought, thinking about the current Flame Blade. He was a man who had retired fairly quickly, considering his heritage. He was considered the weakest of the Blades, but that was only because he retired so quickly. If he had continued, he’d be among the likes of Gold Blades and the others, so for Mad Dog to have clashed with him to a draw while he was still active, it was quite impressive.
Katherine could see the look on Marcia’s face, realising they had only scratched the surface of the one known as Mad Dog. “Mad Dog may have come face to face with the current Flame Blade, but one must remember what Flame Blade was like in his youth. Though we are considered to be of the same generation, even I have only recently managed to reach the height he had reached when he had retired.”
“Jarot,” Dunes said, picking up his cup of wine. “Jarot is the kind of Iyrman to come face to face with Lord Asa, knowing how truly strong he is, and draw his axe, eager to fight.”
“Do you know of Lord Asa?”
“Lord Asa is the father of one of the myths within Aswadasad,” Dunes said. “I had the pleasure of meeting both on my journey.”
“You have met Lord Asa and his child?” Katherine asked.
“I have met the one known as Lord Asa, I have met the one known as Lord Shama, I have met the one known as Lord Stokmar,” Dunes stated, slowly nodding his head. He decided against saying more, especially not that he had met a contemporary of his Lady Arya, the daughter of one of the Major Divine. “Whatever you know of the names I have mentioned, Iyrman or otherwise, that is not why you should fear them. It is not what you know, but what you do not.”