“And here we have one of the finest pieces of the collection. This sword was used by Taman Far during the first Sull-Federation War. It’s of particular interest to us thanks to its well documented history and usage. He commissioned the sword after his initial promotion to listed officer from a local Stallin blacksmith. Taman continued to use it throughout the entire six-year period of his enlistment, most famously defeating Franc Vilna during the battle of Sayades.”

The droning voice of the tour guide did not elicit much in the way of excitement from the group that had followed her inside. The lavishly decorated armoury and museum was a sight to behold, with domed ceilings, golden fittings and carefully polished glass cases on every side. It was strange to think that the first war was being referred to as ancient history, as in truth the war had never really ended. The last person to fight in that war had only died of old age twenty years prior.

Yet still, weapons and armour from that time were now presented as important items worth owning.

This was not a charitable effort. There were many such private collections across the two nations. Others were more forthcoming with sharing them than others. To even see most of the collections in Bristwaithe, one would have to pay an expensive entry free for the ‘maintenance’ of the grounds. The high price and niche that these attractions appealed to meant that a majority of the clientele were wealthy themselves.

There was also a strong undercurrent of national pride involved. The owners of these weapons, if not purchased second hand, were connected with the original users. Men and women who fought and died for an ideal that Sull saw as an affront to its divine right. Never again would the self-titled Kingdom lay claim to the entire continent as it once did. Never again would the people within the federation bend their knee and bow before a corrupt royal institution.

Some poorer families sold their weapons at the end of the fighting and they faded back into the circulation pile to be used by mercenaries, rogues and soldiers. Nobles held onto theirs – seeing more value in them as storytelling implements than as mere cash injections. They had no need of the money, not when pride and prestige was on the line.

Taman’s Sword was not particularly valuable when it was forged. Any person could seek a Stallin blacksmith and request one of much the same construction for a fee. It was what he used that weapon for that curried such a reputation and value, one greater than the materials and labour used to forge it in the first place.

Sakura stared at it with a blank expression.

Her careful study was quick to identify that the sword was not affixed in any way. The construction was high quality, but nowhere near enough to supplant her own legendary blade. This combination of factors made it completely worthless to her – so much so that she was already starting to wander away from the group before the leader decided it was time to move on. Sakura had realised that none of these weapons were as powerful as the one she already had.

Veritas was her ‘cheat item.’ As long as she had Veritas, she could do anything she pleased.

The next topic of discussion was more to her liking. The guide showed the group to an armoured dummy placed atop a small wooden pedestal. Sakura snuck in from the left side to get a closer look. The style of the armour was evidently outdated, made using inferior techniques and designed without modern knowledge of impact reduction and layering. A set of forged abdominal muscles were designed more to massage the ego of the wearer than to protect them. The helmet was a queer sight – the edges flared outwards and away from the skull, resulting in a bowl-like construction that reminded her somewhat of a samurai helmet.

The guide was all smiles, “The astute observers amongst you might recognize this armour. It bears many of the unique characteristics that were utilised by the Kingdom’s armour smiths during the first war. These upturned edges were believed to offer superior protection from overhead attacks. This particular suit was worn by Sir Bradley-Scotth. As we can see, these pieces of blue fabric show the pattern of his house. The engravings and interior lining are more luxurious versus what a foot soldier would receive.”

One of the tour members raised their hand; “And how did you come into possession of it?”

“The Master is familiar with the Bradley-Scotth family. Before the current fighting, they were selling their assets and were seeking a good home for it. The Master assured them that it would have a prominent position within this building – and that it would not be melted down for metal.”

“Hmph. I suppose I missed out…”

In any other circumstance it was a question itching for a fight. There may have been people on either side of the aisle involved in this game, but they were all too cowardly, and far too wealthy to do something as barbaric as doing anything themselves. Sakura sneered and leaned closer to the glass. Her eyes trailed up and down the contours of the front plate. Her intensive study into the runes used, even by nations that no longer existed, meant that she could discern the age and origin of the affixes very quickly.

Axe enhancement, lightening, and strangely - a boon for good health; an affix was that was only effective at stopping injuries the size of a papercut. Sakura smirked and said to herself, “He used an axe.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The guide blanked for a second, “That he did. You have a very keen eye.”

The affixes were written in Old Sullan. A permutation of the most popular language that had several key differences. The introduction of language reforms by King Frans hundreds of years before it was forged meant that by the time of the war most were incapable of reading it properly. Somewhat ironically, the armour and weapons engraved with those words became the last bastion of their existence. Sakura had spent a lot of time and effort learning what they meant and how they were pronounced.

Finding the books was an immense challenge. Not even her Father’s collection bore any answers. She was forced to speak with dozens of experts, blacksmiths, and scholars to find her way. They were happy to indulge her curiosity and ‘preserve’ some of the art before it became lost to the populace fully. Sakura had no interest in the history of the armour, not one bit. To her it was nothing but set dressing. A carefully pieced together fiction designed to enhance the experience of an unseen consumer. Yet there was a dozen or so people who willingly paid money to submit to this torture. Sakura couldn’t comprinted it. All of this knowledge and innuendo for no good, practical purpose.

Even worse was that this particular collection did not contain a single item that she was looking for! Her burgeoning collection of affixed pieces had continued to grow out of control – to such an extent that she now struggled to find somewhere to keep all of them. Sakura hated being selective about what she kept. All of them were useful in some circumstances. Why couldn’t God have given her an infinite carry weight cheat skill instead?

Sakura continued to follow along, listening to dull stories filled with names and places that meant nothing, not even to the person who had memorised them. Time and time again she found herself disappointed with what she saw. None of the pieces in the collection bore markings that were any greater than what one could purchase from a common merchant. They certainly weren’t worth the asking price, or risking her freedom by smashing the glass and stealing them.

It was during yet another lecture about a military officer that Sakura finally checked out. What was the point of learning all of his worthless information? She had never liked reading side content in any of the games she played, and it was even worse when an NPC decided to waste her time by spouting a bushel of meaningless detail at her. If it wasn’t practical; Sakura didn’t care. But she knew that if she turned and left, the guide would ask what she was doing and cause a scene. Being left unattended in one of these museums wasn’t allowed – too many thieves had tried their luck that way.

“Now, please hold your excitement for this next item.”

The guide motioned to a long, thin blade with a strange, cast-iron hilt that resembled a tangle of branches. The first thought on Sakura’s mind was how it reminded her of the sword that Ren was using. They were made in a similar aesthetic style.

“This is believed to be a classical duelling sword from the Ashmorn Empire. The empire was so vast that the full diversity of what was created there is beyond even the most erudite of scholars. After the empire dissolved many of these weapons were brought across the straits by returning soldiers. You can see the characteristic floral design, made from low quality iron by an ambitious blacksmith. It also serves as effective protection for the duellist’s sword hand.”

There were sounds of astonishment from the gathered military obsessives. The fall of the empire always elicited curiosity, though one would never dare ask an Ashmorn for their opinion on the matter lest they desire to keep all four of their limbs intact. One man’s trauma is another’s essay subject.

She examined the runes carefully, but found her efforts frustrated by the language. Sakura wasn’t sure – but she believed that it was written in the distinctive, harsh lines of Ayish. It was the second most common spoken language in Ashmorn before the empire’s collapse, even after the royal house tried to supersede it with their own tongue. Dictionaries and experts were hard to come by. Your best chance would be to travel to the Eastern side of the Ashmorn peninsula and find the oldest person you could; they might know.

That captured Sakura’s curiosity, but again, stealing it without a firm idea of what the runes did was risky. She needed to preserve her criminality for something she might actually use. Veritas was too strong to replace with a random sword. Just because it was old didn’t mean it was liable to be better. With all of that in mind, Sakura wanted nothing more than for the tour to be over so she could leave. Mercifully the guide only had a few exhibits left to go before she ran out of rote facts to regurgitate onto them.

The guide bowed as the group mulled around in the main lobby, “Thank you very much for your custom. The collection is always changing and looking for new items to display. We’d love to have you again.”

There was no chance of that, Sakura thought to herself.

She sullied forth through the doors and down a short flight of steps. The ‘museum’ was actually a large manor located on the far edge of the town. One side was dedicated to storing the collection and monetising it, the other was used by the collection’s owners as a home. Sakura knew next to nothing about the family who were responsible, but if she did she would have given them a piece of her mind for such a boring and tedious display. A world of fantasy and adventure, and still people found a way to make things dull!

She flexed the muscles in her left hand. It had taken a long while to heal, and the entire time she had to listen to the browbeating of her ‘parents’ who were furious that she’d set out to do something with herself. Being a hero was dangerous – but they just couldn’t accept that. Sakura knew better than them. She had been placed on this Earth to do something.

She just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

Until that time came she needed to cultivate her strength, just like a good protagonist would. Villains and rivals like Ren weren’t going to wait for her. She had been extremely naïve to try and take Stigma from him the first time, but reaching a low was an essential part of the hero’s journey. Ren wasn’t someone she could defeat just yet. Every failure would make her stronger, and those failures were proof of her divine purpose. When the time came to face him again, Sakura would display her growth and power – righteously striking him down and clearing the first major hurdle on her road to destiny.

Sakura could barely hide the beaming smile that lifted her cheeks upwards. What an exciting day that would be.