The door was much larger up close than Leaf initially realized, standing up to twice of his height. It was cracked open, the crowd of people clustered around the opening obscuring the view within. He tried to listen in at any of the on goings past the crowd, but the wave of newly excited voices from behind drowned them out, and he felt the beginnings of a headache start to throb at his forehead.
As they closed in on the door, a second wave of people filed in behind them. Many took notice of Majorie, triggering the energy in the air that was steadily growing. For all of her wants of a quiet affair, the Hawk did not shy away from the attention directed at her. Her voice was prominent amongst the chattering that plagued him along with that of her companions, and he could only sigh in disappointment as his own dreams of a quiet event steadily scattered.
Jahora scratched her head, “It feels odd,” her voice was low, only audible to the rest of their group
Leaf looked at her with confusion.
She gave a weak shrug, “After everything we’ve been through. It just feels… strange.”
“Underwhelming? Empty?” Helbram suggested, keeping his tone level with hers.
Jahora wringed her hands, “Tis selfish, I know.”
Helbram shook his head, “It is merely normal, but after a certain amount of time you learn to ignore such feelings,” he said, “better to distract oneself with the rest of what the world has to offer.”
The mage gave a weak nod, her expression still looking unsure.
Helbram placed a hand on her head, “Fear not, if the sword angers you in any way you have my permission to set it ablaze,” he said in a coy tone, “I am sure that will get people talking.”
Jahora chuckled and brushed his hand away, “The moment you break something of immeasurable history, I won’t let you hear the end of it.”
Helbram smirked, “I am looking forward to it.”
Their exchange brightened the air around the group, and soon the noise behind them was nothing more than a dull roar, no longer able to reach them. The group around the door thinned, signaled by the steady stream of people that pushed out of the building in various stages of anger, disappointment, and ambivalence. In due time, Leaf was finally through the door, seeing the Shrine from within.
The interior felt larger than the outside had suggested, but it was made of the same stone that composed the outside. Like its exterior, the building looked to be carved from a singular piece of stone, possessing no seams between pieces. There were no rooms, the Shrine serving merely as a chamber for the Sword that sat at its center, a blade of silver embedded into a darkened, blackened tree that reached towards the skylight above. From its branches grew pale, silver leaves, their color almost blending in with the surrounding stone were it not for the way that they swayed in gentle breeze that billowed through the Shrine. No leaves dotted the grass that surrounded it, and as the man in front of the Sword yanked at the blade, none fell to the ground as the tree shook from the force.
The man continued to pull at the blade, his body trembling, veins bulging across his face as he strained with all of his might. Still, the Sword would not budge, and the man’s arms dropped to his side as he sulked away, defeated. He trudged across the grass and into the surrounding walkway, subjected to a mix of pity cheers and vindictive jeers as he melted into the crowd that filled the passageway, which wrapped around clearing at the center like a ring. Pillars served as a border between the paved walkway and the grass, the smooth stone holding up the roof that hung over the crowd’s heads.
As implied by the people that trailed around the structure, the building was filled with a surprisingly orderly single file line that wrapped around the ring, with people waiting their turn to attempt their pull of the Sword. The crowd was a mix of emotions; some eyeing the blade in the tree with such desire the Leaf half expected them to sprint towards the tree in fervor. Others rubbed their hands and flexed muscles - both physical and magical - as he spotted a handful of Spellcasters and Awoken amongst the crowd. Given the displays of strength, most of the Awoken were of his level, and the Spellcasters only ever displayed two rings of Aether at the most as they meditated. He felt himself grow tense at their presence, nervous even, which triggered a flare of irritation that made his eye twitch.
Behind him, Helbram whistled, “And this is supposed to be a slow day? I shudder to think what a busy day would look like in such a place.”
Leaf turned to his armored companion, finding the man’s face to be relatively passive as he looked over the building itself. Jahora and Elly held similar expressions, and Leaf could not help but feel silly at the tightness in his chest. He shook his head, and noted that Helbram’s eyes lingered on the tree, examining it for a moment before directing his attention to the dome above, “Pictures… looks like they tell a tale of some sort.”
The rest of the group followed Helbram’s gaze, and where Leaf’s vision was previously distracted by the pale leaves, he now noticed the murals that lay painted on the dome’s interior.
There were seven in total, painted in a style that bordered between the realistic and fantastical. The people in them showed normal proportions, but were displayed only in silhouette as the environments around them were displayed in vibrant colors that stood stark against the white stone behind them. From what Leaf could guess, they appeared to be within chronological order, transitioning from one stage to the next in a clockwise manner.
The first depicted a city, it’s design far different than anything displayed within Southsheer. Where the town held a more rigid, rustic air to its make, the painting displayed taller structures with a rounder, more elegant design, but that paled in comparison to the large, black silhouette that encapsulated it all. It hung like a shroud over the city, the only thing discernable about its shape the large, claw-like hands that wrapped around the painted buildings.
“Ah, I see you’ve all noticed the history of the Sword,” a voice said behind them. When they turned to it, they saw Marcus standing behind them.
Elly nodded, “Yes… it is quite interesting. Do you happen to know the name of the city that is depicted there?”
Marcus shook his head, “I’m afraid not. That is a name that is lost to time, as far as I can tell. Not even the Maiden is aware of it, so far as I can tell.”
Jahora leaned against a wall, eyes still peering up at the paintings, “Would you mind elaborating the tale depicted? You seem to be quite familiar with it.”
Marcus beamed, “Not at all!”
He pointed towards the first painting, “In a far off land, there was a great evil that threatened to consume all.”
Leaf rolled his eyes, but Elly shot him a frown that stopped the words at his throat.
Marcus drew their attention to the second painting, which depicted a faceless figure, adorned in a fanciful, silver armor hefting a silver sword into the air. Around him were more faceless people, arms raised up as the man stood above them.
“The people of that tormented land forged armor and blade of the purest silver, enchanted to stand against the darkness that plagued them, and bequeathed it to their finest hero,” he explained, the excitement of his tone fading, but replaced by what Leaf could only hear as want, as need as the younger man gazed upon the paintings.
Marcus’s gaze shifted towards the third painting, and the group’s eyes followed them. In this painting stood the faceless, armored hero, standing on top of the black mass from before, his blade impaled into it, flooding the creature with what could be interpreted as a white light. He did not stand unscathed, and tendrils of darkness pierced through his chest.
“The hero slew the darkened beast, but in the battle he took a fatal blow, the darkness of his foe seeping into the wound.”
The conversation forced their eyes to the next painting, depicting the hero walking away from the city, clutching his shoulder and dragging his leg in a wounded pose. He was still in his armor, battle damaged, and revealing a festering, black wound at the center of his chest.
“The hero, sensing that the beast still lived within him, took with him the armor and sword and left the city, never to return.”
The next painting showed the hero standing atop a cliff, one that looked just like the isle that they stood on today. Only his back could be seen, but his silver armor had been almost entirely enveloped by the darkness, and his sword hung limply from his hand. A sun stood off towards the horizon of the painting, shedding an orange red over the sky that hung over him.
“Eventually, the hero could walk no longer, and found himself at the edge of a sheer cliff, the sun just about to be swallowed by the horizon itself.”
The sixth painting was the subject of their attention next. Only the hero was displayed in this painting, the silver sword impaled into his chest, bleeding a painted white light out of him as darkness enveloped his body.
“The hero considered ending it all, letting himself fall into the dark depths of the sea so the darkness within him would lay beyond reach, but it is then that the Sword spoke to him, told him to impale himself with the blade in order to slay the last of the darkness within him.”
They stared at the final painting through the pale leaves of the tree, showing the same cliff that the hero stood on before, except instead of the hero there was now a tree. Black, twisted, with leaves of silver that sat as a crown over its unnatural make. The Sword jutted out of it, just as it did from the same tree that stood before them.
“Upon impaling himself the hero’s form twisted into that of the tree we see now, destined to rest as the last of the darkness died from the bite of the Sword.”
In his passion, Marcus’s voice carried across the building, and his tale had drawn the attention of others who had leaned in closer to listen. Leaf and his group let silence sit over them for a moment as they processed the tale. Elly spoke first.
“That… is a very interesting tale. Though I have to wonder, if this hero was alone, then how was this tale told?”
Marcus grinned, “From the Sword itself.”
Elly rubbed her chin, “Strange that it would not mention any specific names… I would be greatly interested in knowing the name of a civilization capable of developing a weapon, and armor, of such potency.”
“Tis the will of the Sword to reveal such secrets,” a woman’s voice said in a bright, enchanting tone.
The source of it emerged from the far end of the shrine, revealing herself from behind the tree. As she did, a hushed silence filled the shrine as everyone’s breath caught at once. Her hair caught his eye first. It was a flowing, metallic silver that reflected light off of it like a blade would and granted the woman an aged air beyond her youthful appearance. It was long, flowing down her back and marked with a number of braids that wrapped around it to keep it tidy while also framing her face, which bore thin lips curved into a small smile, a small, pointed noise, and piercing eyes that matched the color of her hair. She was dressed humbly otherwise, wearing the same loose fitting dress other women native to the town wore, but possessed curves that made it cling to her more closely. Leaf shook his head as instinct drove his gaze to her hips and he rubbed his eyes, cursing his wandering gaze.
The woman walked to them, all eyes on her as made her way in her slow, but purposeful pace. Marcus’s expression grew gradually brighter as she drew closer, and Leaf could see the beginnings of a smirk form at the man’s lips as she did. When she was finally in front of them, the young man held out his wrapped basket with a slow, obviously rehearsed bow
“I brought you breakfast, Maiden,” he said in a reverent tone. Helbram snorted at the exaggerated tone while Elly covered her eyes and shook her head.
The Maiden looked at him with an exasperated smile and took the basket with a gentle touch on his hand, “Thank you again Marcus, but please, you of all people need not call me by my title.”
Marcus stood upright and returned a mischievous smile of his own, “Oh but how could I not? Tis a position of most importance.”
The Maiden frowned at him until the man threw his hands up in defeat, “Fine, I suppose I shall follow your wishes… Sophia.”
Sophia beamed at him. It was a sincere smile, the kind only seen between those that had known each other for a long time, “Perfect,” she looked back over the crowd, “though I’m afraid I do not have much time to talk.”
Marcus made a flippant gesture, “Tis no trouble, don’t let me take away from your responsibilities.”
Sophia nodded with a thankful expression and walked back towards the tree. As she did, Marcus’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he directed his attention to the Sword. He squeezed his fist tightly, a determined look on his face, ignorant of those that were measuring him up.
“So, the Maiden is a childhood sweetheart is she?” A voice behind him said.
They turned, seeing Marjorie walk up to him with a smirk, “I can see why you fancy her, or why the men talk as if she was Mellisandra incarnate.”
Marcus flushed, “I-I wouldn’t call us sweethearts, but yes, we’ve known each other since we were children. We share a birthday.”
The Hawk of Dunwich smirked, “Seems as if the stars themselves are telling you something lad, and with the way that she looks at you… well, I shan't cast anymore judgment.”
She looked up at the paintings on the dome, her eyes searching, “But, that tale you told… tis quite something.”
“Yes… were she not so occupied I’d be inclined to question the Maiden further,” said Elly, who had already produced a notebook and was writing down notes.
Majorie nodded, “Indeed, but I do wonder… with such a tale you would imagine that a blade of such power would be more well known. The Six Kingdoms, at least, would be scrambling to acquire such a weapon should they have caught word of it.”
Elly shrugged, “Tis the nature of history. I’ve no doubt that many such artifacts sit across the star, just waiting to be found by some lowly adventurer or historian.”
Majorie looked back at the sword, “A gem hidden in the rough eh? All for the taking…”
Leaf noticed Helbram leaning against the doorway, noting that his armored companion was looking towards Majorie. He wore a face that Leaf was all too familiar with at this point, a plain observant expression that the man always wore when he studied someone. It betrayed nothing other than his attention, and Leaf could never figure out if such a look came to the man naturally or if it was forged over the years.
The Hawk sighed, “If I can even draw the sword that is, we shall see soon, won’t we?”
She waved at them before returning to her position in line, joining her companions who were entertaining the crowd that was once again forming at the door. The group of people cheered as she walked to them with open arms, any of her reluctance from before vanished from her posture, if it was even there to begin with.
The line returned to normal in due time, progressing slowly with each attempted pull of the Sword. The Maiden presided over each attempt, speaking to each person who attempted the pull. Over the chatter of the crowd, Leaf could not make out what was being said, but it appeared to change with each participant, as those that left the shrine did so with expressions that ranged from the sour to the satisfied.
As they stood in line, the man ahead of him, still smelling of alcohol, leered at the Maiden with a dazed expression.
“You think whoever gets the sword gets to claim the Maiden with it?” he said in a slurred tone, “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on a woman like that…”
Marcus scowled and made to move towards the man, but was stopped as Helbram caught his shoulder.
“Let it go,” the larger man said in a low tone, “tis an arse thing to say but I doubt that Maiden would be appreciative if you fought everyone that made a leering statement at her.”
The younger man looked at him with an annoyed expression, “So would you just let others say such things about those that you care about?”
Helbram held his same passive expression, “Aye, because I trust that those I care about are strong enough to not be incised by something so shallow as japes. Do you believe that your friend is so fragile that she need defending from such statements?” his voice was measured, but biting to the point that Marcus’s expression faltered, “Even if she was, would it not be better to build her up above such things rather than shelter her from them?”
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He let his hand fall from the younger man’s shoulder and gestured towards the drunk man ahead of them, “The choice is yours.”
Marcus looked ahead, his face now unsure as he looked between the Maiden and the drunkard. He stepped back, though it appeared to be more from confusion rather than any sort of realization. Jahora gave Helbram an approving nod, which he responded to with a shrug.
The younger man retreated into himself as they progressed up the line, and in a short amount they soon found themselves near the Sword. The drunkard that incised Marcus stood in front of the blade, snapping a finger at the Maiden with a wink as he walked up to the blade. Sophia showed no reaction to the gesture, but the man’s companions, and Elly, audibly groaned in response. With no preparation, the burly man pulled at the blade with a grunt and a prolonged straining sound that showed no effect for his efforts. By the time his hands left the sword, he was heaving, hands on his knees as a wheeze escaped with every breath.
“Gods, you’d think the Sword sucked the life out of him,” a voice called out from the crowd in a sardonic tone. It was the Hawk’s armored companion, Holden.
A chorus of laughs erupted from the line, and the drunk man stumbled back, a mix of the alcohol and embarrassment driving him out of the shrine before he even spoke to the Maiden.
“Good, the man could do with some fresh air, and a bit of humility,” said another voice in a deeper tone, originating from Geren, who stood at Majorie’s side. The Hawk did not join her companions’ japes, but she was smiling at their words.
Sophia held her hand up, and Leaf noted a brief flash of Aether sparked from her fingers that trailed into the air. It was silver in color, something that Leaf had never seen before, and from the raised eyebrows on both Elly and Jahora, they had not seen it either.
“Now now everyone,” the Maiden said in a soft tone, but one that managed to carry across the shrine with little effort. The barest hint of an ethereal echo exuded from her voice, indicating the spell that had been cast, “All shall be measured with no bias, there is no need for us to cast judgment in its stead.”
It was the gentlest of admonishments, but enough to calm the crowd.
Sophia regarded Leaf next and bowed before she gestured towards the Sword.
Leaf sighed, bearing the awkwardness of the newfound silence on his shoulders as he walked up to the blackened tree.
Up close, the unnatural growth held a twisted appearance to its bark, as if the wood had wound itself up like a piece of twirled wire into the semblance of a tree rather than the real thing. The Sword remained embedded into it, only an inch of blade revealed as its silver hilt gleamed. Leaf looked up, noting that the Sun was obscured by clouds, which made the sheen of the weapon stand out all the more in overcast light.
The hilt itself was the most ornate he’d seen, its grip reflecting the twisted design of the tree and wrapped around a ruby that served as the Sword’s pommel. The same curved runes could be seen in between the raised ridges of the grip as well, and without any stimulus pulsed with a soft silver light. The guard also bore the same twisted design, and was wide enough to cover his hand. On the bit of blade that was revealed, Leaf could see a hint of the same runes, which also pulsed with light.
It was the light that gave him a brief moment of pause, not trusting the strange Aether that seemed to generate from the Sword. He shook his head when he realized it had not affected any of the others who tried to pull it, but he could not help but feel cautious about it.
Leaf grabbed the hilt, the touch of its silver cool against his skin. He felt the blade’s Aether pulse through him, triggering a wave of gooseflesh that raised through all of his body. The sensation almost made him let go, but he grit his teeth and pulled the blade, triggering his own Core to let Ether flow through his body.
His efforts bore little results, as the Sword showed no signs of even budging as he pulled on it with the strength of a Journeyman Awoken. He braced his foot against the tree and pulled harder, feeling his muscles strain from the effort.
Still, the blade did not move.
He ceased his efforts, feeling his muscles relax and he dropped his foot back to the ground. His hand remained on the hilt, but as he was about to let go another pulse of Aether traveled through him.
With it brought a single whisper. It was subtle, more present at the back of his mind than something that wormed its way through his ear. He did not understand it, only hearing an echoed, distorted sound with the semblance of a voice.
Leaf dropped his hand from the grip, feeling a tremble up his spine as he stepped back from the Sword. He turned to the Maiden, her calm expression already soothing the confusion he knew to be on his face.
“The Sword spoke to you,” she said.
Leaf nodded, “I couldn’t understand a word.”
“All cannot, but I can tell you what it said if you wish to know,” she smiled at him, a polite expression that, in his eyes at least, felt sincere.
He scratched his head, “Aye, that would be appreciated.”
Sophia nodded and cleared her throat, “It says that you possess much potential, bearing the blood of a long and storied line.”
His blood went cold as she spoke, telling him an answer to a question that he never wanted to ask.
“But, you are not the one that will wield the Sword,” she said in an apologetic tone.
The words almost didn’t reach his ears, but he shook his head from his distracted thoughts and gave her a brief nod before stepping to the side.
“A long and storied line… the hells does that mean?” he muttered to himself.
He closed his eyes and sighed, pushing the thought aside. He could think about it later.
It was Elly who was up next. The scholar approached the Sword while scribbling something in her notebook, taking a moment to examine the blade and write something down before pocketing it. She turned to the Maiden and flourished her hands, producing a brief flash of green Aether from her fingers.
“Is the use of magic allowed in this task?” she asked.
Sophia nodded, “You may attempt to draw the sword however you want.”
Elly smirked, “Perfect.”
As the scholar walked up to the Sword she reached up and undid the top of her robes, letting the loose, baggy cloth fall to her waist to reveal the sleeveless shirt she wore beneath. She ignored the leering statements from the crowd and, now unburdened, let her arms move as yellow Aether trailed up from her legs and into her hands. She planted both of her feet, drawing in the Aether from the ground below and into her feet. Properly suffused with the energy, Elly slammed her palms into the tree.
Its branches shook, relinquishing no leaves but its bark filled with Aether as Elly forced the gathered energy into it. Leaf jumped from the impact, but Sophia bore no reaction to the action, and instead looked upon Elly with curiosity. The Aether focused around the Sword, and from the way it flowed Leaf could see that it was pushing against the blade from the inside. Elly wrapped her hands around the hilt then and pulled, letting a small grunt slip from her lips.
The Sword did not move.
Elly dropped her hands from the weapon when she saw that her efforts amounted to little, and she produced her notebook and wrote down further notes as she walked to the side.
She paused as she stood next to the Maiden, “The Sword spoke to me as well, though I don’t recognize the language…”
Sophia smiled, “I would be quite surprised if you did, would you care to know what it said?”
The scholar readied her pencil and nodded.
“It says that you possess a strong mind, one that will discover mysteries far and wide.”
Elly jotted down the phrase, but clicked her teeth, “Not as definitive as I would have liked, but tis something I suppose…”
In the midst of the curious scholar’s note taking, Jahora walked up to the sword.
The Thaumaturge cracked her knuckles, producing sparks of Aether as a familiar green glow flushed through her irises for a brief moment. She raised her hands to the Blade, which she had to look up towards given her size. Glyphs of green Aether appeared at her palms, their runes too numerous, circles too plentiful to count. The mage reached out and grasped the hilt of the Sword, and as she did her glyphs sunk into the blade, triggering a gust of wind that wrapped around Jahora as the Sword filled with her Aether. The Thaumaturge pulled at the blade, leveraging her weight against it as she tugged at it from below. The wind intensified at that moment, billowing from the blade and from where it had pierced the tree, blasting Jahora’s hair and robes back like she’d been caught in a storm.
Still, the blade did not move.
Jahora pouted at the result, but let go of the blade and dusted her hands off.
“Well, it was worth a try…” she said in a casual tone.
When she skipped up to the Maiden afterwards, eyes alight with curiosity.
“What did it say?” she asked.
Sophia must have found the mage’s excitement infectious, for she beamed at her with a smile to match the small woman’s bright expression.
“It says that your curiosity will not go unrewarded, that you will find that which you seek in due time.”
Jahora clapped her hands, “Well that is great news indeed! Though I must admit that such a prediction just makes me all the more curious…”
She bowed at the Maiden, who returned the gesture as she knelt to match Jahora’s height. Jahora joined Leaf and Elly, whistling in satisfaction as they all turned to see Helbram walk up to the Sword.
Like always, their armored companion held a relaxed, but focused posture, any signs of anticipation absent from his stance. His steps were quiet amidst the noise of the crowd, who, upon seeing that the man was not displaying any special talent like those of his companions, had wandered off into conversation rather than pay attention to his attempt. Given their glances, it looked as if they were anticipating the results that Marjorie would bear instead. Only the eyes of his companions and the Maiden’s were on him, and Leaf could only frown at the crowd as Helbram stood in front of the sword. If he was affected by the apathy, he made no sign of it, and the man’s hand wrapped around the hilt in a casual manner.
For the briefest moment, the tree went still.
Leaf blinked, seeing the leaves and branches of the blackened growth swaying once again, and were it not for the surprised expressions of Elly and Jahora, he’d thought he was only seeing things. The Maiden betrayed little to her expression, regarding Helbram with the same smile as everyone else, but there was now a stiffness to her posture that further sparked the alarm in Leaf’s mind. He looked back at Helbram, who’s hand rested on the blade.
He pulled, a brief yank that showed only the barest of effort.
The Sword did not move.
Helbram let his arm drop and turned to his companions, giving them a shrug as they looked at him with anticipation.
“As expected,” he said in a casual tone.
He walked over to him, the crowd around them not having noticed the slight abnormality to his attempt.
“Did the sword speak to you?” Sophia asked, her eyes studying Helbram with an impassive look.
He shook his head, “I am afraid not.”
“I see…” her brow furrowed.
Helbram made a flippant gesture, “Pay it no mind, I suspected that this would happen,” he looked at his companions, “I must admit that I am a bit famished, should we return to the tavern?”
“I suppose we should…” Jahora said. A pitiful expression was on her face, but she said nothing more.
Elly and Leaf nodded at him. Leaf felt the urge to say something, but kept his tongue. If the man needed anything, it was not his pity.
They turned to leave, but it was Helbram that stopped as he stepped forward.
“Ahhhh, I almost forgot, we need to bring Marcus back to his sister,” he said as he scratched his head, “we should probably wait for him.”
“Right,” Leaf said.
They all turned around as they saw the young man rush up to the sword, rubbing his hands in anticipation. The action earned a few pitiful chuckles from the crowd, namely the crowd that formed around Majorie. They looked at Marcus with bemused expressions, likely familiar with the young man’s previous attempts, from what Leaf could guess. With no build up, Marcus grabbed the hilt of the blade and pulled.
All went silent as the Sword moved.
It did not leave entirely, but there was no doubt that more of the blade was visible as Marcus continued to pull with all of his might.
“I knew it,” he growled, excitement and hunger clear in his voice.
But tried as he did, he could not pry the rest of the blade from the tree. The crowd leaned in with anticipation, wondering if the Sword would finally be freed from its abnormal sheath. Leaf found himself doing the same with Elly and Jahora, but he noted that Helbram studied the younger man with the same impassive expression he always wore. Minutes passed, but the blade would no longer move.
Sophia walked up to the young man, stilling him with a hand on his shoulder. He was out of breath, heaving with his hands wrapped around the hilt, refusing to let go.
“It’s right there… I can feel it calling to me,” he said, eyes still fixed to the blade.
The Maiden reached down and grasped the young man’s hand, “I know Marcus, I know. I hear it too. The Sword has chosen you,” her voice was soothing, but Leaf noted worry in her brow, “we can discuss what we can do later, for now you need rest.”
Marcus nodded and let go of the hilt, squeezing Sophia’s hand as he did so, “You’re right,” he said, “I think I’ll go back to the tavern… sleep for a spell.”
The Maiden smiled at him, “Yes, that’s a good idea. Get some rest.”
The crowd was silent as Sophia led Marcus away, and while Leaf’s eyes followed the pair he noted Helbram was regarding something else. Leaf turned to follow his companion’s gaze, seeing Marjorie step up to the Sword while the rest of the crowd was distracted by the newly chosen’s departure. The red haired woman grabbed the Sword without hesitation and pulled.
The blade moved again.
Sophia stopped, her eyes alight with shock as the sound of the blade sliding echoed through the shrine. Marcus’s expression matched hers, and he joined her in turning around as they saw Majorie pulling on the blade further. The Hawk of Dunwich’s expression was calm, and when the blade no longer moved she let go of the Sword and looked to Sophia.
“Well, I guess that means I’m chosen as well,” she said in a casual tone, but Leaf could see the tremble in her fingers, the brief twitch in her eye as the woman tried to contain her excitement.
Sophia opened her mouth to say something, but could not find any words. She nodded slowly, and Marcus looked between the two in stunned silence.
Chatter erupted from the crowd, a distorted mix of confusion, anger, and excitement.
“Two?!” a woman from the crowd exclaimed.
“Were they really chosen? The sword is still in the tree!” a man yelled.
“Aye, maybe there’s more to be found!”
“It’s got to be me.”
“You? It’s going to be me you daft fool.”
Arguments broke out, and Leaf could feel the crowd start to push in towards the Sword. He stepped back, not sure what to do in this situation.
“I think it is best that we leave,” Helbram finally said, “as dramatic as this is I would rather not be in the middle of the arguments to come.”
The rest of the group nodded and walked towards the door, squeezing through it just in time to avoid the new tide of people that was trying to push its way through, all demanding to be the next ones to pull the Sword. Voices grew louder behind them, and while Leaf was glad to be away from the center of it all, he could not stop curiosity from making him look back, only to see Sophia staring directly at them as they left the shrine.
Helbram took point as they walked away from the crowd, his size serving as the perfect wedge to push through the steadily thickening crowd. News spread fast, however, and by the time they made their way across the bridge someone was already running to the town’s square, shouting the news of what just transpired through the streets.
Upon hearing the news, the townsfolk started to rush towards the shrine, news of not one, but two chosen by the sword leading to an air of thrilled confusion as the citizens of Southsheer started to amass.
To their fortune, they managed to make it to Cliffside by the time the crowd grew to its thickest, and they all breathed a sigh of relief as they found the street to be relatively bare in comparison.
“Gods… I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crowd form that fast, even in a city like Helios,” Jahora remarked.
“It is not often that one bears witness to prophecies fulfilled,” Elly said, “but I must say that the quiet is much more preferable,” she rubbed her chin, “though I am curious as to how this situation will be resolved.”
“With lots of bickering and mule headedness,” Leaf said with a sigh, “With two chosen and one blade… that sort of thing tends to lend itself to conflict.”
“Aye, which is why I proposed that we leave,” Helbram said, “I have not the desire to be caught up in such a maelstrom, as entertaining as it may be.”
He walked ahead of them again, “With that in mind, I propose we head back to the tavern, get ourselves a good meal, and then leave on the morrow” he shivered, “Bandits and ancient ruins are one thing, but bickering over magical swords are not the sort of adventures that I’m in the mood for.”
Leaf quirked up an eyebrow, “Not that I don’t understand the sentiment, but that’s a bit of a drastic measure, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it has been sometime since we’ve been in civilization,” Elly said, “bickering or no I think it would be best for us to stretch our legs a bit.”
Jahora nodded fervently, “Yes, though, admittedly, I just want to see what happens with the Sword.”
Helbram raised his hand as he was about to say something, but dropped it with a sigh, “Do as you please, but let us keep our involvement with the Sword to a minimum, shall we?” He turned around and eyed Jahora with a smirk, “that mainly means you.”
Jahora whistled, “I don’t know what you are talking about, I shall be but a mere observer.”
Helbram chuckled, “I will be holding you to that, but we should move. We can save any inquiries after we have had ourselves a meal and given the situation some time to cool down.”
They marched towards The Salty Breeze in relative silence, but as they drew closer to the tavern something sparked in Leaf’s mind.
“What are we going to tell the tavernkeep?” he asked.
Helbram shrugged, “The truth, she is bound to find out soon or has already found out, given how fast the news has traveled,” he scratched his head, “It is going to be quite the shock, that is for certain.”
The tavern was in sight by the time that they finished talking, but before they could step inside they were interrupted by the approach of rapid footsteps from behind. The group turned to see the source of them, only to see Sophia running up to them.
Despite her rapid pace, when she stopped she showed only the barest hint of catching her breath. None knew how to greet her, as they did not expect to see the Maiden away from the Sword, especially now of all times.
Sophia took a moment to collect herself and closed her eyes, when she caught her breath, she opened her eyes, staring directly at Helbram, “Excuse me… I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”
Helbram eyed her warily, “...Helbram.”
She nodded, and then smiled at him, “Helbram, first let me say that it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Helbram’s expression shifted to confusion, “Likewise? I suppose?”
“Yes, but tell me, Helbram…”
Her expression shifted, almost too quickly. Gone was the serene guise of the Maiden, replaced by the stern, almost angry look of a woman scorned.
“Why did you lie?”