“And these, please, shopkeeper.”
Scáthach held up two fist-sized bread rolls to the man behind the counter. Her arms were laden with vegetable and salad dishes—braised spinach with sesame dressing, broth-boiled potatoes, and a particular imperial delicacy: dried sour plums. Most of the dishes had been brought to the empire by Mars a thousand years ago, and the imperial officers seemed to be hoping they would raise morale before the coming battle. At any rate, the aroma was making her mouth water.
The man blinked. “Ain’t no shopkeeper, miss—just the one who keeps this dining hall running. And no need for my say-so. Take whatever catches your fancy.”
“I fail to see the difference, but...very well. Although, if I may ask, why no meat dishes? Is there a shortage?”
“Lady Vias, miss. She went and carted off all we had. We’re frying up some more in the back if you don’t mind waiting, but it’ll be a little while yet.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I’m not that hungry. That woman’s appetite does astound me, though. I wonder where she puts it all...”
The man looked skeptical for a moment—Scáthach was making off with no fewer plates than Meteia had—but he thought better of saying anything and forced a smile. “It’s a mystery, miss. We’ve had to take some, ah, precautions.”
Scáthach frowned, curious why he was being so indirect, but she quickly saw what he meant. A little to the side stood a sign reading “HIGH GENERAL VIAS WILL NOT BE SERVED.” Apparently, Meteia had earned herself not just a warning, but a permanent ban.
“You banned a high general from your dining hall?”
It was remarkable that they had dared, although the meatless plates attested that they had been left with no choice. Still, Scáthach couldn’t help but wonder if the man was worried about reprisal.
“Had to, miss. Lady Celia Estrella’s orders.”
“I see. Then I suppose you’re in the clear.”
A high general held no sway over a direct order from a member of the royal family. If the two ever clashed, any citizen of the empire ought to know where their loyalties lay—not that that would make it any less uncomfortable to be caught in the middle.
“The best of luck to you,” Scáthach said. “I fear you may need it.”
With plates in hand, she made her way out of the dining hall and down the hallway, nodding to the patrols as she passed. Her steps were light as she descended into the dungeon’s gloom. Heavily armored guards waited at the bottom. She thanked them for their hard work and approached Hiro’s cell.
“It has been a while since we last met, I believe,” she said through the bars.
At her voice, Hiro looked up and smiled wryly. “Eating dinner in the dungeons? I don’t remember you being the type.”
“There’s never any harm in a change of scenery.” Scáthach laid her plates out on the floor and sat down, meeting Hiro’s gaze. The guards moved to fetch her a chair, but she raised a hand. “No, thank you. I’d rather speak as equals. Have you eaten? You should get yourselves some dinner.”
“My lady, we have been charged to—”
“I am capable enough.” She summoned Gáe Bolg and rested it against the bars. “Or do you think a Spiritblade’s chosen cannot keep her eyes on a single prisoner?”
The guards shook their heads furiously. “Of course not, my lady. Thank you for your generosity.”
“Relax. Enjoy yourselves. If anybody questions you, tell them you’re under my orders.”
She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and they hastened from the dungeon. Once all was quiet, she began to eat.
Hiro looked at her quizzically. “I thought that might have been for me.”
“If you were hungry, you should have told the guards.”
“Don’t worry. I’m still full.”
“I thought as much. Although, as I understand it, you couldn’t eat if you wanted to.”
Hiro was bound in place—not by ropes, but by Meteia’s threads. She had spun them so densely around his cell that the slightest twitch of his arm would set them off, but not a single one touched his skin. Scáthach had to marvel at her precision.
“Come to think of it,” she said, “how are you eating?”
“Meteia brings my meals. It’s the only time she takes these down, although recently I’ve noticed things missing from my plate...”
Scáthach put on her most diplomatic smile. The effects of Meteia’s dining hall ban were wide-reaching indeed, it seemed, and it was easy to imagine Hiro being happy to sacrifice the meat from his plate.
Once her plates were empty, she met his gaze again, her eyes stern. “I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded, seeming to understand what she was getting at, but otherwise did not react. She was grateful for that. It made the question a little less difficult to voice.
“Gáe Bolg has returned to me, but it has not resumed our covenant. You are still its master. What exactly have you done?”
He did not respond as she expected. His smile widened, and his voice took on a hint of amusement. “All will be one.”
She cocked her head. The phrase meant nothing to her. “What exactly are you trying to achieve? Is Gáe Bolg truly mine to use? If you need my help, you have it. I ask only that you explain yourself first.”
The offer was genuine. She owed him more than she could ever repay, and she was willing to do whatever he required if it would go some way toward redressing that debt. Yet he said nothing.
He broke eye contact and looked down for a long moment, visibly conflicted. At last, he seemed to steel himself. “Do you know what the Spiritblade Sovereigns are for?”
Scáthach frowned. “For?”
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you they’re powerful weapons, but there’s more to them than that.”
“Are you saying they have another purpose?” She swallowed hard, awaiting the answer with bated breath.
Hiro nodded. “Excalibur, the Blade of the Beginning, forms the vessel. Mjölnir, the Blade of Might, lends its strength. Gandiva, the Blade of Vitality, amplifies their power. Gáe Bolg, the Blade of Forbearance, seals the curse.”
He reeled off the list like an incantation. His eyes were as cold as ice, and resignation, sorrow, and anger lurked in their depths. His lips imbued the words with emotions beyond description, turning them dark and black like some unholy summons.
Understanding kindled in Scáthach’s eyes. She marshaled her courage and asked, “And Lævateinn?”
“And Lævateinn, the Blade of the End, lays all to waste.” Hiro’s eyes took on a distant look, and regret welled up from within them. “But only when all five are assembled can they unleash their true power.”
“And if they aren’t assembled?”
“Then...this. The last thousand years of history.”
Remorse filled Hiro’s face, as though he were confessing to some grave sin, but he continued nonetheless, as if it were the only path to atonement.
“Once, long ago, a human was born with the power to rival the gods.”
That man had been Leon Welt Artheus von Grantz, the founding emperor of the Grantzian Empire and the first of its Twelve Divines.
“He forged the Spiritblade Sovereigns, thwarted the zlosta, conquered Soleil, and built the greatest empire the world has ever known. But there were powers that even he couldn’t defeat. The Five Lords of Heaven.” Hiro fell silent for a moment. He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Well, that isn’t quite true. He could have beaten them...if his friend hadn’t made a fatal mistake.”
“He didn’t have Excalibur,” Scáthach said.
Hiro nodded. “The Spiritblade Sovereigns were made to slay the Lords, but without Excalibur, they couldn’t fulfil their purpose. And so the Lords continued to wreak havoc across the land. An age of chaos that continues to this day.”
“Then why not give the rest of the Spiritblades to Lady Celia Estrella? If you lent her Excalibur as you lent me Gáe Bolg, would that not suffice?”
Hiro shook his head weakly. “It’s not that simple. You and Gáe Bolg had a bond, even if I’m its master. That’s why it rejoined you. It doesn’t have that kind of connection to Liz. It wouldn’t do the same for her, even to save her life.”
“And I presume the same holds true for the others.”
Hiro nodded again. “She has to prove herself to them. To show she’s worthy of wielding all five Spiritblades.”
To Gandiva, she would have to demonstrate her purity of heart.
To Mjölnir, her strength of arm.
To Gáe Bolg, her conviction.
To Lævateinn, her passion.
And to Excalibur, her vision for the future.
Scáthach fell silent, cowed a little by the intensity in Hiro’s voice. “It would not be the honorable way, but...can a powerful enough wielder not bend a Spiritblade to their will?”
“Not to use them for their true purpose. Liz might be strong enough to try, but if they didn’t accept her as their master, she’d end up afflicted by four curses at once. I don’t even want to think about how that would end.”
“But if she was strong enough to bear them...”