It doesn’t move. Not a millimeter, not while I am looking. I left it laying horizontally to avoid air currents or other external forces form influencing the sword’s position. Next, I need a volunteer to steal it. I’ll leave the book next to it so you can write in our diary, White knight. I await your input.
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And after hours of waiting, nothing happened, at all. You didn’t come, didn’t write, didn’t take the sword. Why? Did you read and decided it would be funnier to leave my demands unfulfilled? Or is it my sole attention on your presence you seek? Are you a soul, a ghost? Do you need to be noticed to live on? Doesn’t matter. I will leave the sword in the baths and go to the furthest corner of the brewery. A test of the sword’s will to get back to me. Will report later, bye diary.
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The sword… crawls. I would swear I am going mad, had I not repeated the test thrice. The sword bounces and rolls and squiggles on its way back, stopping at my feet, and then shooting to my grasp when I try to grab it. It had never done that before, so I think this power is amplified by my awareness of it. This, no doubt, is the Lady’s magic, and she lied to Gadorprims to quell his worries about the sword. Maybe their relationship isn’t as flawless as it seems. I have never investigated him, for I trust the Lady’s judgement. Besides the inquiry of his gharial nature, I mean. I seriously believed him to be a gator, which is weird: one would think it is easy to differentiate between the two crocodilians. Gadorprims, however, is probably some sort of hybrid with racial purity delusions.
I will ask the lady to confer the sword’s enchantment to the diary, too, were she to be okay with it. Or maybe I can visit the wailing maiden for advice on how to reply the spell. The entrance to her wing had been sealed short after I arrived, but I heard from the lady that her enchanting services used to be invaluable before she came to the palace.
Yes, I will consult the Lady about that exactly.
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When the Lady came to the main chamber, the throne chamber, I took the liberty to suggest her grant me access to the Maiden’s wing.
“Why would you ever want that, pawn? A sealed wing has no need for your cleaning,” she said, scowling.
“I want to enchant the book so it seeks me, like the sword does,” I said, pointing at the sheathed weapon.
She considered in silence for a few instants, “The Maiden enchants are for heroes and fortune seekers. They are for warriors willing to brave the dangers of the world and preserve it from evil. Pray tell, pawn, are you a warrior?”
“I have a sword like, and I know spells suited for, a warrior, My Lady.”
She descended from the throne, stepping gracefully over the carpet made out of the golden reptile, and tousled my hair.
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“You are something more important than a warrior, Pawn: you are a housekeeper.” She smiled, showing her shining white teeth. “The world needs warriors in times of war, that is true. The world needs housekeepers every day. Imagine it, pawn, a world with only people with important tasks to carry on, a world where nobody has the time to mop the halls or organize the balls. Would that be a world worth living in?”
“No, Lady Scarlet, it would untidy, chaotic, saddening.”
She stepped back and began ascending the carpet, back to her throne “Then, you are something more important than a warrior, and you have no need for neither a magic book nor a sword. Yet, you can keep the sword, for I like my butler being able to fend for himself.”
I joined my hands, as if I were praying. “And I am thankful, Lady Scarlet, but haven’t I served you well enough to be granted this small favor?”
She turned to me, staring with her beautiful eyes wide open. She remained frozen for a second or so before recovering her composure.
“Fairness cares not how well you serve me, as terrible as that may sound. Magic as powerful as the sword’s, dear pawn, it’s no easy to imbue into an item. Less so, I believe, in a book.”
I wanted to ask her why she had said the sword had been forged to kill her, but refrained from doing so. This sword had to belong to one of her enemies, and had been taken as a prize after their fall before the righteousness of our Lady. This, her quarry, being entrusted to me is an act of genuine trust.
“I understand, Lady Scarlet, I am sorry for asking.”
“It’s only human to ask, pawn, it’s only human. One day, you will teach me how to read those funny squiggles you do on the paper, right?”
I nodded “And until then, I can read it to you aloud, if it pleases you.”
She also nodded, and that was the end of our interaction.
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Don’t read this aloud. Never read this aloud. English is our strength, our weapon. Don’t read this aloud.
Talking about English, didn’t you ever wonder why you write in English, Francisco? This is not South-Simaritanese, nor Chiscaniese, this is English. From England, on Earth. You use Arabic numerals; you use the Latin alphabet. Your knowledge hails from places that don’t exist in Bengia. And that sword, Francisco, is called Jillsenbane, it belongs to you. You chose it, and it chose you. Look at its stats, at the requirements it has! It could never be wielded by a mere butler, by a housekeeper. This is the weapon of a mighty warrior. This is the weapon of a chosen one brought here from far, far away.
Seize your destiny, enter the locked wing. You don’t need the Lady’s permission: Jillsenbane can cauterize the seal open. Enter the locked wing, seek this wailing maiden we have only heard of so far. Be it a creature at her service or opposed to her will, there will be aught of use in acquiring that information.
Or, alternatively, kill the dragon outright. Kill the dragon and your reality will stop feeling wrong, the madness will go away to be replaced by forgotten relief and the merciful pain of loss. Kill the dragon, you know where to find it. Tear down the palace that has it for a heart, and be again the world’s hero, would not that be right?
If not for you, for Abeline, at least. For Abeline, who was taken by the dragon never to see us again, Francisco! For Abeline, for beloved Abeline, for kiskadee-voiced Abeline, for healing-spring-eyed Abeline, for oversized-heart Abeline. For Abeline of the warm smile, for Abeline of the boundless dreams, for Abeline of the child-like hope. Francisco, please, for her, kill the dragon. It is not an order anymore, but a plea. Kill the dragon, Francisco, I beg you. End this madness, end your madness.