Emile dug deep into the earth. Really, really deep. The hole he had created by this point was just about as tall as a two-story building by this point. The rope that lay next to his feet was his only lifeline, and even that was starting to dangle. What was once enough hemp to cover his entire calf was now barely a roll, and within a few more meters it would probably stop touching the ground. "Just.. a bit... more..." Emile verbally reminded himself, attempting to keep his sanity as his muscles screamed out for a break. But he couldn't give them that small repose, for every second mattered. The guard would be returning to this area eventually, and Emile needed time to shovel the dirt back into the hole once he found what he was looking for. If he found it, even.
Emile continued and continued until the rope began to dangle near his elbows. Any higher than that and he'd be stuck down here. If that were to happen, he'd either die of starvation - a horrible death - or be caught by the guard - a fate that was arguably worse than death. Right as he was about to give up hope, Emile's shovel hit something hard. Something metal. Jackpot. Emile hurriedly dug around his prize, revealing a case the size of his legs. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He found it. After weeks of digging in slightly different locations, he had finally found it.
Emile bent his knees to the box's level, undoing its rusted hatches. His mouth cracked into a huge smile once he saw what was inside. This.. was a sword. Not just any sword, however. A magic-enchanted sword. These kind of items were either reserved for the Absolute Generation - the immortal rulers of the world - or doomed to be long lost, buried alongside the countless bodies of those who died in the many civil wars long ago. This was one of those items. Emile examined the center of the wooden blade - etched onto it were three runes, each of which glowed in a green color of otherworldly nature. Magic. Emile hadn't seen anybody outside of the Absolute Generation utilize it. But here he was, with one in his hands.
Emile was happy beyond measure, but he wouldn't let that turn him into a fool - he just as quickly stuffed the sword back into his box, climbing up his rope with extra vigor, hanging the crate to his belt by way of a hook he had brought. If Emile had counted right, he had roughly 15 or 20 minutes until the guards reached this area of the field while on their daily patrol. He covered up his hole as if he were running at full sprint. Afterwards, he quite literally did run full sprint, all the way back to his home. Not his house, but his home.
The city of Dumont was massive, to say the least. It was the largest city on the western continent, as well as the fourth largest city in the entire world. It was ruled over by Jugo, the 10th member of the Absolute Generation. While he ruled over with an iron fist as all members of the Absolute Generation did, he was noted to be among the kinder ones. Sure, he didn't allow people to disagree with him, wield weapons, learn magic... and yes, he did insist on constantly holding grand parades in his honor and having the ground he walked upon worshipped... but that was rather normal for a member of the Absolute Generation. He was much better in that he avoided the incessant violence or cruelty some members of the group partook in, and still allowed people to choose their own paths in life. You could be a merchant, a farmer, a cook, a doctor, perhaps even a guard... guards were special in that they actually did get to wield weapons, though only simple spears and bows. Nothing that could ever harm a member of the Absolute Generation.
But the sword Emile had found? Chances are, it could.
Emile hurried towards his friend's house, passing by countless people as he blended right into the crowd. Blonde hair like his was nothing uncommon in Dumont. His body was thin, like most people who worked as scribes. His averageness granted him a certain degree of stealth - nobody would really question the box he held in his hand. Perhaps he was just making a delivery to a business down the street.
Emile knocked on the door after making sure nobody else was in the avenue. 10 seconds later, a quieted voice answered. "You're not selling anything, are you?" The passcode. "I sell only myself." He responded. Soon after, the sound of 5 different locks greeted his ears, and the sight of his best friend greeted his eyes. "Leon." Emile's smile grew as wide as the city itself, his hand gesturing itself forward to show off what was in his hand. The moment Leon saw what he had, his own smile grew twice as wide. "You absolute madman! Come in here!" He responded, barely holding in his volume as he dragged Emile on in.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Emile couldn't help but laugh a bit too. "Months, Leon." He held the box with both hands, lifting it into the air slightly. "Months and months and months. And here it is. I can't believe it." Leon playfully hit Emile's side, laughing even harder than he had before. "You're the most stubborn son of a bitch on the continent - I never doubted you for a second!" He pulled a wooden chair up towards Emile. Emile fell into it almost instantly. That digging had really taken its toll.
Another figure entered the room, this time that of a woman - Marianne, another member of their group. "Am I hearing this right?" She asked, stepping towards Emile. "You checked it? It's the one?" Marianne was always the pessimist of the group, and had always believed they would never find the fabled sword that lay underneath that long-buried battlefield. "I'm sure. If you doubt me..." Emile set the box onto the floor, undoing the hatches. "See for yourself."
The sword looked just as magnificent now as it did earlier, and seeing the way both Marianne and Hugo reacted was no doubt like watching his former self in a mirror. The sheer wonder in all 3's eyes outshone even the loud noises that had begun to gather outside in town. Whatever was happening out there didn't matter. Their tiny little resistance group had finally found the first real thing they could use to rally people towards them: a weapon that could cut the flesh of the Absolute Generation.
As a scribe for the grand library of Dumont, Emile was granted access to certain types of long-lost tomes. The Absolute Generation hid away books that described magic in their own personal archives, but history was allowed to be accessed by high-level scribes. Niche history, rather. Niche history being anything that didn't involve the Absolute Generation.
Emile had read tales of this sword and its wielder, the warrior Sigmund. He was among the strongest in his country at the time. While not physically impressive, Sigmund had an incredible mind that gave him great skill at making magical weapons. And this sword was his masterwork. Ausblade, it was called. The runes inscribed on it let it inflict damage on anything and kill anything, regardless of what it was - or what it resisted. Ghosts and spirits would still be affected by this sword's blunt blows, as would demons. Theoretically, even the monstrously durable and immortal bodies of the Absolute Generation could be harmed. That was an exciting prospect to those hoping to rebel.
Many rebellions came. All were crushed. But none had ever had a weapon like this, at least not to Emile's knowledge. He was lucky that Jugo wasn't fond of reading. If he was, that book would've long been hidden or burned.
"I'll let the boys down in the south quarter know soon as I can." Leon said. "They'll be extra motivated the moment they hear of this, I've no doubt." Marianne nodded. "They'll finally stop slacking off on their recruiting duties, you mean."
"No." Emile interjected. Leon and Marianne both looked at him. "No?" Leon asked, cocking an eyebrow in Emile's way. "This is the best morale booster in all of history. Why the hell wouldn't we tell our men?" Marianne, for once, agreed with Leon. Emile thought to himself for a moment before ultimately sighing and closing the box. "Because it's too risky. If this information leaked, well..." Leon sighed. "So what if a guard hears a rumor of rebellion? They've been hearing it for hundreds of years now."
"Yes, bu-" The noise that had begun to gather outside got louder, enough to make Emile stop talking. "What in the world is all that racket about...?" Marianne wondered aloud, clearly just as distracted. The noise only began amplifying. "Let's go check it out." Leon commanded, the other 2 in the room nodding. Emile left the sword hidden under Leon's secret floorboard space and headed towards the streets with his comrades.
Things were in a ruckus. Everyone was gathered in front of the town stage - it wasn't the main stage or anything, just the one used for this part of the city - where one of the city administrators was stationed. The uproar drowned out anything he was still saying. "I can't hear a damn thing!" Leon shouted out towards Emile. "WHAT?" Emile shouted back even louder, completely missing his friend's words. For the next 5 minutes all the crowd could do was talk, talk, talk - so much that nobody actually knew what anyone was saying. But as time went on, word reached the back. An elderly woman in front of Emile looked as though the life had been shocked out of her, or perhaps as if she had seen a ghost.
"What is it, ma'am?" Emile asked, stepping forward and resting a hand on the lady's shoulder. The woman, who looked to be well over 80, kept her eyes peeled on the ground. It was as if she were off in space. "I can't believe it..." Slowly, she turned her head up to face Emile, her face a combination of shocked, scared, confused... and happy. "Lord Jugo... he's dead."