The first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as Ebony stirred awake. His apartment, a modest dwelling in the heart of the city's underbelly, was bathed in a soft, ethereal light. He stretched, his joints creaking in protest, and yawned, a long, drawn-out sound that echoed through the quiet room.
As he sat up, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over him. He knew that Amilco would be returning to the monastery soon, leaving him alone once again to face the harsh realities of his life. A pang of loneliness washed over him. He missed the camaraderie, the shared laughter, the simple joy of human connection.
He glanced out the window, his gaze drawn to the bustling city streets below. The world was waking up, a cacophony of sounds filling the air. But for Ebony, it was a world of danger and uncertainty. He knew that he had to be strong, to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Ebony turned over, pulling the thin blanket tighter around him. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to reclaim him. He wasn't dreading the day ahead, just not eager to face it yet.
2 hours later, Ebony freshly bathed and dressed in clean clothes, made his way to the town square. He found a familiar spot near the fountain, a place where he'd often spent his days, lost in the rhythm of the city. As he sat, he watched the world go by, a tapestry of human activity unfolding before his eyes. Merchants were setting up their stalls, hawking their wares, while others strolled leisurely, lost in thought. The air was filled with the sounds of life - the chatter of people, the clinking of coins, the distant rumble of carts.
He’d grabbed a quick breakfast of local delicacies - fluffy Magyarian Ólady pancakes, golden brown and topped with sweet strawberries and a drizzle of honey. He found a quiet spot by the fountain, the soft lapping of water a soothing backdrop to his meal. As he savored the warm, buttery pancakes, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, and all his worries faded away.
As Ebony savored the last bite of his pancake, a melody began to form in his mind, a haunting tune both familiar and strange. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. As his gaze drifted towards the local blacksmith shop, the clinking of metal caught his ear, and he heard a beat begin to pulse in his head. He imagined the blades, forged in fire, infused with the magic of his music.
As he finished his breakfast, a melody began to form in his mind, a haunting tune that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the city. He picked up his lute, his fingers dancing across the strings. The music flowed from him, a torrent of sound that filled the square. The people paused, their eyes drawn to the young musician, captivated by his performance.
As Ebony played, a small crowd began to gather. Some were drawn by the sheer beauty of the music, others by the enigmatic figure of the young musician. They swayed to the rhythm, their faces lit up with joy. A few coins clinked into his hat, a testament to the power of his music.
A young woman, her eyes sparkling with admiration, approached him after his performance. "Your music is truly inspiring," she said, her voice soft. "It's like a breath of fresh air."
Ebony smiled. "Thank you," he replied, his heart filled with warmth. He knew that his music had the power to touch people, to connect with them on a deeper level. It was a gift, a responsibility, and a source of immense joy.
The young woman, with her elegant demeanor and captivating smile, was far more refined than Ebony had initially anticipated. She complimented his music, her voice soft and sweet. "You have a true gift," she said. "I hope to see you at the upcoming ball."
Ebony, taken aback, questioned the existence of the ball. He had never heard of such an event. The woman chuckled, explaining that it was a prestigious affair, a gathering of the city's elite. She believed that Ebony's musical talent would be the perfect addition to the festivities.
Intrigued and a bit hesitant, Ebony agreed to consider her invitation. The idea of attending such a grand event was both exciting and daunting. He wondered if he truly belonged in such a world of privilege and refinement.
"And what is the name of this talented musician?" she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.
Ebony hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Ebony," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.
"Well, Ebony," she continued, a playful smile on her lips, "I hope to see you at the ball. You'll be a sensation."
Ebony nodded, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within him. He promised to consider her invitation, his mind racing with the possibilities. As the woman turned to leave, Ebony couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. Perhaps this was the beginning of something extraordinary.
The idea of attending such a grand event was both thrilling and terrifying.
Ebony, buoyed by the woman's invitation, turned his attention to the blacksmith's shop. Intrigue sparked within him as he imagined the potential of a blade, forged in fire and imbued with the magic of music. With a newfound confidence, he stepped into the shop.
"Hey, Damir," Ebony greeted the blacksmith, his voice casual.
Damir, a grizzled man with calloused hands, eyed Ebony with a mix of recognition and skepticism. He knew the young musician, a dreamer with a heart full of ambition but pockets devoid of coin. "What can I do for you, Ebony?" he asked, his tone polite but firm.
Ebony, undeterred, explained his vision. "I'm looking for a blade, something special. Something that can be more than just a weapon."
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Damir chuckled, a wry smile playing on his lips. "A blade with a soul, huh? Well, those don't come cheap, boy." He paused, his gaze piercing Ebony's. "You know, I admire your ambition, but you'll need more than just dreams to afford a blade like that."
Ebony wandered the shop, his eyes scanning the shelves. A dazzling array of weapons, each more impressive than the last, caught his attention. Swords of varying lengths and styles, from the broadsword to the rapier, gleamed in the dim light. Axes, maces, and spears, each with its own unique purpose, lined the walls.
He picked up a dagger, its sleek blade promising deadly efficiency. It was light and easy to handle, but it lacked the reach he desired. A rapier, a slender sword designed for thrusting, caught his eye next. Its elegant design and swiftness appealed to him, but he worried about its fragility. The blade seemed too delicate, too easily broken.
Ebony longed for a weapon that combined power and precision, a weapon that could both defend him and strike with deadly force. But he knew that such a weapon would be far beyond his means.
He paused in front of a longsword, its blade long and sturdy, its hilt comfortable to the touch. It was a classic design, a balance of power and grace. But as he hefted the sword, he realized it was too heavy for him. He couldn't wield it effectively, let alone for an extended period.
Disappointed, he put the sword back on the rack. He needed a weapon that was both powerful and practical, something he could handle with ease. As he scanned the shop, his gaze fell upon a peculiar blade, a bastard sword. It was a hybrid, a cross between a sword and a longsword, offering a balance of reach and maneuverability. Intrigued, he picked it up and examined it closely. It felt right, a perfect fit for his needs.
"How much for this one?" he asked Damir, his voice filled with hope.
Damir quoted a price of 2000 Pearlcoins, a figure that made Ebony's heart sink. It was far beyond his means. With a heavy sigh, he placed the bastard sword back on the rack. He knew he couldn't afford such a weapon, not now, not yet.
As he turned to leave, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment. He had come so close, so very close to finding the perfect weapon.
Ebony hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. He was about to leave, defeated, but something held him back. With a renewed determination, he turned around and walked back to the display cases. As he scanned the shelves, his eyes fell upon a collection of short swords. They were smaller, more manageable, and perhaps more affordable.
He picked up one of the swords, turning it over in his hands. It felt surprisingly light, yet sturdy. The blade was sharp and well-balanced, perfect for both offense and defense. A surge of hope surged through him. Could this be the weapon he had been searching for?
"Can I take a closer look at these?" he asked Damir, his voice filled with anticipation.
Damir shrugged. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, knowing full well that Ebony couldn't afford any of the swords on display.
"How much for this one?" Ebony asked, his voice filled with hope.
Damir quoted a price of 650 Pearlcoins. Ebony pondered the figure, a mix of excitement and apprehension. It was a significant sum, but it was worth it. "I think I can make that work," he said, a determined glint in his eye. "Can you hold onto this for me? I'll try to get the money together as soon as possible."
Damir nodded. "Sure thing," he replied. "I've got plenty of these short swords. If you can come up with the coin, it's yours."
With a renewed sense of purpose, Ebony left the shop, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew he had to work hard, to hustle, to make enough money to buy the sword. But he was determined. He would do whatever it took to achieve his goal.
As Ebony turned to leave, Damir called out to him. "You know, for a musician, you sure are interested in weapons," he said, a curious glint in his eye. "The way you handled that sword, it was almost like you were born to wield it."
Ebony paused, a blush creeping across his face. "I've always been fascinated by blades," he admitted. "There's something about the way they gleam in the light, the way they can be both a tool and a weapon."
Ask the two exchange conversations a man in golden armor, a familiar patron, stood silently in the doorway. His golden armor, a testament to wealth and power, shimmered under the dim light. His face, usually stern and imposing, was now a mask of patience. He waited, unmoving, as the two men inside continued their hushed conversation.
The armored man had been here before, a silent observer to countless exchanges. He knew the shop, its secrets, and its patrons. He had even offered cryptic hints in the past, vague prophecies veiled in enigmatic language. Yet, today, he remained a silent sentinel, his knowledge and power held in reserve.
The golden man watched the Ebony wield the short sword, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. It was a weapon of simple design, a tool for a warrior. In his youth, he too had wielded such blades, venturing into the unknown, seeking fortune and glory.
But those days were long gone. Now, he stood as a silent guardian, a watcher of worlds. The short sword, though a relic of a bygone era, held a certain charm. It reminded him of a time when life was simpler, when challenges were physical, and solutions were forged in steel. Yet, he knew that the true power lay not in the weapon, but in the wielder. And Ebony, with his future, was a force to be reckoned with.
As they were still having a conversation amongst themselves. the gold man appeared right Next to ebony. He didn't even notice the door open and he came in. He was so silent. He didn't even notice him except for damir. He saw The golden man the minute he walked in. the entire time. But it really didn't face him. Here to deliver a commission for damir.
The golden man, a silent figure of authority, placed a small, ornate box on the counter. "You can leave it here," Damir said, his voice barely a whisper. The man nodded, a single gesture of acknowledgment, before turning to leave.
As the door swung shut, Ebony found himself alone with the mysterious figure. A tense silence filled the air, broken only by the soft clinking of coins. Damir returned, a small pouch filled with Pearl coins in his hand. "Here you are," he said, handing the pouch to The Golden man. "3500 Pearlcoins, as promised."
The golden man took the coins and left without a word. Ebony, still stunned by the encounter, watched the figure disappear into the street. He turned to Damir, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"That man," Damir said, a hint of reverence in his voice, "is Aurum. He leads his own mercenary group. A formidable warrior, a silent force."
Ebony's eyes widened in awe. "A living legend," he murmured, still processing the encounter. "He's more intimidating than I imagined."
Damir chuckled. "He's a man of few words, but his actions speak louder than any speech. You're lucky to have caught a glimpse of him."
"Something to strive for, huh?" Damir replied, a hint of caution in his voice. "Be careful what you wish for, boy. Aurum isn't the man he used to be. There's darkness within him, a hunger that consumes."
Ebony, intrigued, pressed on. "What do you mean?"
Damir hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "Let's just say that the path to power is often paved with sacrifice. And sometimes, the cost is too high."
He paused, his gaze fixed on Ebony. "The juice isn't worth the squeeze, boy. Best to admire him from afar."
After a moment of silence, Damir returned to the original topic. "You know, it's strange," he mused. "For a musician, you have a natural affinity for weapons. Most people who come in here don't even know how to hold a sword properly. But you... you handled that blade like a seasoned warrior."
Ebony smiled wryly. "I've always been fascinated by weapons," he explained, his voice a mix of pride and embarrassment. "I suppose my musical training has helped me develop a sense of rhythm and timing, which translates well to swordsmanship."
Damir nodded, still pondering the mystery. "Perhaps," he said, "or perhaps there's something more to you than meets the eye."
"We'll see," Ebony replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. He turned to leave, but not before pausing at the door. "I'll be back with the Pearlcoins," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Just make sure no one else buys that sword."
Damir chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll hold onto it for you. But remember, no refunds."