The sun was setting over the horizon, ending the long day in the Manor. The Lady of the house was at her sink in the kitchen, looking wistfully out the window at the setting sun as she washed plates. Her bronze scales relaxed as she pulled out the clean plate and put it out to dry. She turned to the rest of the room, with a careful glance at the great sword hanging over the fireplace. She could never pinpoint it, but something was wrong with that blade.

It just made her scales crawl.

She drained the bucket of water outside of the house, all the residue cleaned from the plates and dumped outside. She heard her youngling behind her, playing with the bow his father had made him. He jumped up and down, firing the pretend arrows. He ran past the lady, knocking into the cupboard. The glass bauble on top wiggled, before falling. The lady snapped her hand forward, catching it. She sighed, and looked down at the boy.

Walking towards the child, she chastised him. “You know your father said you could only use that outside youngling.”

The child looked visibly upset, his bronze scales tensing up. “I…I know. I just want to be a cool hunter like him!” He made motions of firing his bow again, before it was snatched away. “You'll get his back tomorrow young one, now it's time for bed.”

“But the sun isn’t even down yet mama!” the little dragonborn chirped, rubbing his eyes. The mother narrowed her eyes at her child. “You’re now enough winters old enough to know that at this time of year the sun sets later! Come now, off upstairs with you.” Groaning, the child dragged his feet up the stairs.

She watched him go all the way up, and gave a smile. Still so innocent.

She felt something dark rub against her back,making her shiver. Instinctively, the lady of the house turned to the great sword.

 It was...glowing? No… Not glowing. Something else. It seemed to emanate some kind of ...presence. The lady didn’t care too much for history, but even she could recall that this sword was used by her husbands’ progenitor to say the great Islingr of the Underdark. She reached her hand out close to the blade, examining its surface.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Engravings ran all along the edge. Flames, Hammers, The occasional dragon head. This was the generational sword of the Bronze dragonborn, why was it so… ominous.

She heard a knock at the door. Snapping back into reality, she turned her head.

She walked over to the door, inching it open. Two males were outside, one an elf, the other a stocky man. She couldn’t see the elf too clearly like this, but the dwarf had a hat he was wringing in his hands. He had solemn face, which turned to stone when she fully opened the door.

“Lady Scalebreaker?” he asked, he hands behind his back in a formal military stance, easily recognised.

“Yes..?” she said, realisation dawning. “Is this about my husband?”

The elf pulled out a red letter from an envelope, his voice cracking as he read out the words. He held the letter closer to the door sconce, the sun having fully set.

“The condolences of the Divine emperor go to Lady Falia and her son Dourgan."'his face was getting less and less composed as he continued. "We are sorry to say that the lord of Far Reach manor, Torinn Scalebreaker, has fallen in battle against the forces of Devils.” He hands the letter to the lady. 

She read through it, face getting darker and darker as she read it. The greatsword in the back starting glowing stronger and stronger. She looked up, a mixture of rage and grief behind a wall of stone. "How did he die?"

The dwarf lowered his head further. His hands tensed up and he broke eye contact. "He was a man possessed my lady. Fought a pit fiend in single combat to save my life. They... they took his body back to the nine hells. I must tell you this, upon my honor as a warrior, and to personally inform you that Torinn died a hero to his country and his men."

A single tear rolled down his face, as he made eye contact with the lady, composing himself. "No apologies can make up for the death of a childs father and a ladies husband, so I offer none. If Dourgan or you ever need help, I will be there. Just ask the peacekeeper where Patso is." He salutes, and turns on his heels, head down.

The elf follows suite, leaving the lady in the dark night, with a cold breeze blowing through the door.