All things were impermanent, bound by the laws of prosperity and decline—so went the words of wisdom from the east that the older brother had learned in school. In this moment, he reaffirmed his understanding that the strong empire of the past and the empire of today were two different beasts. All the same, the empire still boasted the third-largest national economy on the planet, and although they had lost their hegemony over the western continent, they were in a far better situation than many other malingering nations that had peaked in ages past.
With these thoughts in mind, the lad took his younger brother’s hand and led him to the second west annex.
A banner with a logo and smart text on it indicated the exhibition hall. Just like the name of the exhibition stated, there were swords as far as the eye could see. Swords nowadays were merely ornaments, no longer worn by nobles or soldiers, so the sight of the glittering metal in the room set the boys’ hearts aflutter.
“Wow, they’ve got specimens borrowed from the Institute’s own vaults,” the older brother said.
“They’re so cool!”
The main attraction was a mystic blade from the Age of Gods known as Windslaught. This sword was hugely popular in creative works, from songs, plays, films, manga, and even works of fiction called “reincarnation stories”; it was the very same sword from the Song of Sigurd. During the middle ages, it was rediscovered by a hero with the same name, in what was now known as the Renaissance of Siegfried, and was a centerpiece in many heroic stories about this adventurer. The historical records proved that the second Siegfried existed, but these depictions of him were vastly different from the accounts typical of the festivals and songs originating from his homeland. These varying depictions befuddled historians so much that some thought that perhaps “Siegfried” was a myth, a single figure derived from the deeds of many.
“Ooh, so this is the hero Sigurd’s sword. Forged using a fragment of the Sun God and used to slay the foul drake Fafnir...”
“It’s so cool, Brother! They say this sword chooses its wielder, and that no one can wield it now!”
“Then how’d they hang it up here...?”
The pair went around the room, admiring the various swords on display until they finally found what they were looking for. This sword was not a mystic blade, and was displayed in a corner of the section, but so many people had crowded around to see it that it was impossible to get a good look. The frustrated younger brother jumped up and down to try and see over the crowd, but thinking that this was a little uncouth for a museum, the older brother lifted him up onto his shoulders.
“Can you see now?”
“Umm... Yeah!”
The blade that caught everyone’s attention was called Schutzwolfe, the favored sword of Goldilocks Erich. This famous blade made appearances with its wielder in biographical works and video games in the modern day. However, its appearance wasn’t all too breathtaking. With its traditional design, it must have been an impressive piece at the time, but unlike the other pieces in the exhibition, it hadn’t received any sort of blessing or magical incantation. Anyone could unsheathe it; anyone could swing it. That strange truth could be seen in its appearance—a perfectly ordinary sword.
“How is it? Cool?” the older brother asked.
“Kinda normal.”
“Normal? C’mon, dude...”
The older brother felt his shoulders slump at these words—he’d used a lot of his pocket money to take his brother to the museum, and this was the response? As he did so, a strand of his golden hair came loose.
“But it is! It looks nothing like the SSR version in the game...”
“Well, yeah? Dad told you, didn’t he? Goldilocks Erich was a real hero, a master swordsman who would use any weapon. He could use a normal sword to drive off divine avatars, destroy the undead, and even slay a true firstborn dragon.”
This was common knowledge to anyone who’d read the Goldilocks Saga, one of those rare classics that remained fresh despite its antiquarian origins—not only did Goldilocks love the sword, but he was incredibly powerful with one in hand. He had used a mere sword to best a god’s illegitimate child, slay a beast that was already dead, and drawn blood from things without form. That was why he was a hero, and why his name persisted to the present day. In his hometown of Konigstuhl, there was a small museum which housed his armor and a lock of his hair. Many fencers stopped there as a rite of passage.
Schutzwolfe had received special attention and care due to the simple fact that it had been wielded by Goldilocks, but as it wasn’t a mystic blade, it wasn’t much to look at. It had a well-balanced business end and was evidently made with practicality in mind over vanity. It looked practically shoddy in comparison to the other weapons on display. However, despite its plain appearance, no one questioned the existence of Goldilocks Erich or the legitimacy of the piece, thanks to the abundant historical records that had been left in his wake. From the Adventurer’s Association register, to the personal notes left by the Association manager at the time, to the diaries of nobles that were involved in his jobs, there was more than enough to corroborate the stories.
“But it really is a normal sword. It is kinda pretty though, I guess.”
“Well, as long as you’re happy having seen it, then I’m happy too.”
The lad set his younger brother down, heavier now than he had once been, and wondered what his ancestor would think looking at this moment now. His beloved sword was no longer in possession of his direct lineage; now it belonged to the house of Count Ubiorum. To top it off, his very personage had been melded into various shapes for popular entertainment for the masses.
That reminded the lad—things had gotten better than they had in the past, but a number of years ago, a female version of Goldilocks Erich had been introduced into an R-18 game. There had been so many stories about his luxurious hair that many people had argued that it wouldn’t have been strange for him to have actually been a woman. That had started a boom where many historical games had featured him as a woman. The lad wondered what his ancestor, with his many descendants, would think from his vantage point in the lap of the gods, observing the mortal realm. Most likely he’d smile awkwardly at seeing this boy call his beloved sword “normal.”
“Anyway, wanna see the rest of the exhibit?” the lad asked.
“Yeah.”
After seeing this simple sword, his younger brother’s excitement from earlier had all but vanished, and the pair headed off to another glittering mystic blade on display.
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