Joan let out a soft sigh once she stepped into her room. She already felt so much better after a nice, long soak in the baths on the lowest floor of the castle. Letting the heat into her aching muscles and bones always seemed to help.
“I think I’m going to take a small rest for a little bit, could you ensure I’m not disturbed?” Joan asked Wendalin, who stood patiently outside her room to guard it. “Especially not by Bauteut?” The last thing she wanted was her healer finding out that she had decided to go on her own little adventure without her. Between Bauteut and Searle fretting over her, Joan was only allowed a few hours of alone time each day ever since she’d finally healed from her wounds and, as the healer called it, ‘healer’s shock flu’. If they found out that she had gone off on her own, even if only a few rooms down and just to get a weapon, she was certain they’d never let her hear the end of it. They’d probably take whatever she received away as well.
Wendalin gave a quick nod, the woman’s face slightly red from her own soak in the baths. Joan couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit annoyed that the older woman didn’t seem nearly as tired as Joan felt from the practice. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” Joan said before closing the door and quickly locking it. She then, very slowly, made her way to the servant’s door. This special door that the servants could use to travel through the small tunnels built into the castle, allowing them to travel without being seen. She always kept it locked when she slept, otherwise she had slowly been learning to keep it unlocked and getting better at predicting when the servants would come through.
Joan very slowly pulled open the door a crack and listened, holding her breath. She didn’t hear anything, but she still waited for a few minutes before pulling the door open a little more. She looked around the room for a moment before grabbing her chair and pushing it into the doorway, blocking the door from closing. She still wasn’t entirely certain how to open the door from the inside and the last thing she wanted was for someone to find out she’d been creeping through the servant tunnels.
Making her way down the tunnels was easy enough, at least. Joan gently brushed her hand against the wall as she walked, placing each step very carefully. All she had to do was wait for the step in the darkness and she’d be there.
Even knowing it was coming, however, didn’t stop her from nearly falling on her face when her foot hit empty air. Joan quickly caught herself, thankful nobody could see her small momentary flounder. She slowly crept forward, trying to remember which door would belong to Ywain.
Her worries were quickly abetted when she realized one of the doors had been, very slightly, propped open. A small line of light could be seen from the door itself and it looked like the corner of a green tunic had gotten snagged on the bottom, keeping it open. With a nervous gulp, she reached out and knocked on that door, hopeful it had been left by him and not some other guest of the castle she wasn’t aware of.
Her fears were abetted when, after a few moments, the door swung open and Ywain was standing there with an amused smile on his face. “Ah, you came far faster than I expected. I wasn’t certain you’d take the tunnels, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not wanting an escort?”
“I don’t need to be escorted everywhere I go. Besides, I’ve always been in a bit of a rush,” Joan said, her eyes scanning the room. It seemed he was in the same room as when last they met, at least this time he wasn’t trying to stab her.
“I’ve yet to have met a young lady who was not, when a gift was promised,” Ywain said with a light chuckle. “My daughter is much the same way.”
“You have a daughter?” Joan asked.
“Two, in fact. Quite a bit younger than yourself, though. Nowhere near as well trained, either. But just as likely to bend the rules as yourself,” Ywain said before motioning towards the bed. “Please, come along. I think you’ll find this quite to your liking.”
Joan’s eyes quickly turned towards the bed before they widened slightly. Laying on the bed was a long, narrow package. It didn’t take her long to deduce that her earlier suspicions were correct. A weapon of some kind. Finally. She stepped out from the tunnel and quickly made her way over, barely suppressing the urge to jump up and down or let out a little squeal of delight. Just because she was a twelve year old girl did not mean she couldn’t be a mature and responsible adult. Especially when her mind was thousands of years old.
All of those thoughts went out the window when Ywain unwrapped the package and rolled it open, revealing the sword and sheath within. She stared at it with awe, letting out a small little squeal of delight. It was the most beautiful weapon she had ever seen, at least as Joan.
In her past lives she had always been the Hero, as such she had access to the Star of the Hero, a legendary weapon that was of the same power and form of the god’s weapons of the chosen. It had always taken the form most ideal for the Hero and, on top of that, could slightly alter its shape and size when needed. Normal weapons wouldn’t work for her then, as they would crumble and break with ease, but there had been times where she had been gifted ceremonial weapons that she, more often than not, merely cast aside.
In this life, however, she had only ever had access to simple weapons, sharp, deadly, but nothing truly spectacular. This blade looked as if it had been made of silver and iron, with light ripples along the metal’s edge and double sided. The grip was simple enough, with a small, curved handguard and wrapped in leather so dark it was like the night, she suspected it was from a demon. While somewhat simple, it was leagues above anything she had ever owned in this life.
“Go ahead, pick it up. I do hope it fits,” Ywain said.
Joan nodded, feeling another flash of excitement when her fingers wrapped around the grip. She realized a moment later that it wasn’t just excitement, there was magic woven into this blade. She lifted it up and swung it twice.
The blade cut through the air with ease, perfectly balanced, the hilt weight balanced with the blade so she could easily hold it. While the blade itself was a little larger than she was used to as Joan, it wasn’t nearly the largest blade she had ever handled. About the right length for a proper short sword if she was an adult. The grip was also a little bigger than her hand, but she suspected as she grew it would fit more and more comfortably. “It’s amazing,” Joan said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice now.
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“I will admit, I was uncertain if I should give you such a gift,” Ywain said after a moment. “It was actually why I went down to see your practice earlier. A blade like this must only be given to someone who can truly appreciate it.”
Joan gave a small nod before moving the blade closer to her face. The way the metal seemed to ripple out, almost in a flower pattern, made her stare. “What is it?” she asked softly.
“What do you mean?” Ywain asked.
“Not iron, correct?” Joan asked. “I’d guess steel, but steel can’t hold magic quite as well. Not mythril, either. It’s pretty, but not quite the same.”
Ywain looked shocked, his mouth falling open slightly. However, after a moment he smiled and gave a small nod. “You have a good eye, Joan. I never would have imagined you understood such things about metal alloys.”
Joan gave a small nod. “I have always been a fan of different weapons,” she said. Truth was, most of her experience with them came from being stabbed by them.
“It is an experimental alloy my lord has been working on. Similar to what the demons have been using, made much like steel, with a hint of silver, blood of the larger demons and a bit of magic. Quite difficult to make, however. You won’t find many blades like this.”
Joan nearly dropped the sword when she was told its origins. “There’s demon blood in it?” she asked. “Does the queen know?”
Ywain stared at her in confusion for a few moments, before nodding. “Of course. Once we had finished manufacturing the initial blades, every member of the royal family had been gifted such a weapon.”
Joan stared at the blade for a long moment. Was such a weapon really okay for her to use? “This weapon must be incredibly valuable. Why give it to me?”
Ywain crossed his arms and gave a soft sigh. “My lordship has only had them made for those who have garnered his attention. When I told him about you and that you had lost your weapon, he insisted one be made for you. After all, anyone who has so enthralled the queen must eventually be of great importance. Besides, Lady Joan. Your reputation is growing. Child of one of the chosen, a member of the Crystal Phoenixes at such a young age, the great ‘Prodigy’. Why, there are even rumors that you are the illegitimate child of Lord Hardwin and Queen Emeline.”
THAT actually made her drop the sword, the blade landing on the bed with a light thump. She whipped her head to stare at him. “What? Who would say something as stupid as THAT?”
“Just a rumor,” Ywain said, though she really didn’t like the look on his face. “After all, as young as you are, well, such things would hardly be believed. You are only a few years younger than the queen’s youngest, after all. Surely such a scandal would have been impossible to hide.”
“I’d imagine so,” Joan said with a shudder. She couldn’t imagine how such a rumor even started. She was a nobody, the child of two idiots more than likely. That had been the whole point of her coming back to begin with. She wasn’t special or supposed to be the best anymore. She finally shook her head.
At her age, being the child of Hardwin would be a possibility at best, but unlikely as she had never truly known him to have any lovers, let alone taking the queen as one. And Emeline could never have hidden such a thing if she’d had another child. The scandal would have spread through the lands like wildfire. She gingerly picked the sword back up. “I hope you don’t believe such silly notions.”
“Of course not,” Ywain said with a light chuckle. “I merely believe you are an incredibly talented young maiden. There will always be rumors such as those in the court, but you cannot dwell on them.”
Joan paused for a moment, eyeing the sword. Something about this was so incredibly familiar, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. Had he offered the Hero a sword like this once? No, that couldn’t be it. The Hero had carried the Star. No normal blade could have truly compared to such a weapon. As magnificent as this blade was, she couldn’t have seen herself caring about it back then. She stroked a finger down along the flat of the blade, leaving small traces of her magic along it and causing the lines to glimmer for a moment.
“Interesting,” Ywain said softly, eyeing her. “Have you wielded such a blade before?”
“Huh?” Joan asked, glancing up. “No. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Ywain said back, but the way he was looking at her made her suspect there was more he wasn’t saying.
Joan picked up the sheath and slid the blade inside. It made a soft, satisfying sound when the blade rubbed against the coating. “Are you absolutely certain I can have this?” she asked.
“Of course,” Ywain said once more. “Though just keep it between us for the time being. Surely if the queen desired for you to have a weapon, she could have supplied you one on her own. I’d rather not have this gift create a rift between us.”
Joan nodded. “Of course. I’ll find some story on how I got it,” she said gently before smiling none the less. He motioned out through the servant’s tunnels and she quickly made her way back to her room, letting out a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind herself once more.
It was such a silly thing, she knew, but it felt right to have her own sword again. She sat on her bed and drew the blade once more, slashing it once through the air. It had been so long since she had been properly armed and, as she slowly sorted out everything about her past lives and felt more like herself, having a weapon of her own made her feel more complete than she would have imagined.
Joan frowned and slashed a few more times before sheathing the sword once more, then sliding it under her bed carefully. She doubted the queen would approve of her having any weapon, but if in the end she had to leave the castle, it would be best if she had it available.
She then walked to her desk and pulled out the small key she had on a small chain around her neck and then grabbing the book she had been writing in so often lately. A dwarven security tome, gifted to her by her personal healer, Bauteut. She opened it before flipping to a blank page and writing a few more lines.
Joan hadn’t had a weapon of her own in so long, perhaps this was another piece of who she had been, and what she needed. She wondered if she had felt that way as a Hero. Ever since the Hero had first grabbed his father’s blade and slew those bandits that had assaulted them, he had never been without a weapon.
Replacing his father’s blade with the Star and, the few times he didn’t have the Star, the greatest weapons around. So such a thing was to be expected.
Their journeys had been far too dangerous, with far too many threats always assaulting them, for him to have not had a weapon at all times. Would her journey be the same way? She glanced back to where she had hidden the sword.
By the gods she hoped not. If even the weaker enemies they had faced were already such tremendous threats to her as she was, she doubted she’d live long if they had to face everything once more. But no, she supposed that wouldn’t be her responsibility this time. That was what the chosen were for. Her only responsibility was to keep herself alive long enough to guide them to the Inferno God’s destruction.
Joan let out a sigh of relief and slowly closed the book once more, letting it close with a soothing click. “We’re going to make it this time,” she whispered to the book. “Somehow, someway. We’ll fix everything.”