Sensitivity and durability. Weapons, especially those of the bladed variety, were tools that walked the thin line between the two contradictory characteristics. The sharper a blade was, the more fragile it tended to be; the duller it was, the less effective.
The finest of combat swords were produced and maintained after much trial and error. Attempting to keep a blade sharp yet sturdy was a difficult and often unsuccessful endeavor, and the ideal balance between edge and sturdiness varied from user to user. There were as many varieties of sword-making as there were swordsmen and swords.
“Hey, Shannon!”
Weapons required regular maintenance in order to withstand the abrasive conditions of battle. Such maintenance required a great deal of time, effort, and painstaking attention to detail.
“Shannon! I’m talking to you!”
When performing maintenance on weaponry, one needed care, precision, and absolute concentra—
“Stop ignoring me, jerkface! You’ll pay for this!”
Shannon’s patience was finally exhausted when Pacifica stuffed his long hair into an ugly side ponytail. He tugged his head out of her hold, turned to her, and glared.
“What, your highness?”
The action sent Shannon’s awkward ponytail bobbing. Pacifica laughed and pointed.
“Wow, Shannon!” she exclaimed. “You look so cute like that!”
“I’m sure that’s a lie.”
“Seriously. All you need now is a dress, some fake boobs, and—”
Shannon abruptly pulled the hair-tie off and let his hair fall back into place. “I thought I told you never to bring up the dress thing again.”
“Yeah, right.” Pacifica waved him off with her hand. “And since when do I listen to you?”
Shannon sighed into the autumn breeze. The Big Bear Inn’s backyard had a flowerbed, a small pond, and a charming white table for guests to enjoy outdoor tea. Unfortunately, the makeshift stove Shannon had built ruined the once-elegant garden.
Shannon rested the sword he’d been trying to clean on the grass. “If you like the style so much,” he muttered as he retied his usual low ponytail, “why don’t you wear it yourself?”
“Oh, I’m already cute enough as it is.”
Shannon said nothing, his face blank.
Pacifica, unsurprisingly, took great offense at his reaction.
“Hey!” she snapped. “What the heck was that?! It’s almost like you were disagreeing with the undeniable fact that I’m painfully cute! Would you care to be more direct with your sovereign ruler, Shannon Casull?!”
Shannon really had better things to do that day, so he gave up early.
“No, Princess Pacifica. You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on.”
Pacifica scowled at Shannon’s tone. “Say it like you mean it!”
Shannon ignored her and went back to his father’s sword. “Didn’t you have something to tell me?” he asked.
The indignation fell from Pacifica’s face just as quickly as it had risen up. “Oh. Winia wanted you to go shopping with her—she said she’s got a lot of things to buy.”
Shannon scratched the back of his neck. Porter duty, he thought. Great.
Still, Winia was letting the Casull siblings stay at the Big Bear Inn at-cost. Shannon was in no position to refuse her request.
“Fine.” Shannon bent back over his sword. “Tell her I’ll be a minute—I’m almost done here.”
“Okay. Buy me something pretty while you’re out?”
“I thought we decided you’re pretty enough.”
“Hey!”
On a small hill that overlooked the town of Taurus, Luke Sturm stood in calm silence. With his powerful build and face of steel, the imposing air he emanated was nearly warm to the touch.
“Colonel Sturm.” A soldier’s voice seemed to rise out of nowhere. “Reporting current conditions, sir.”
Luke Sturm didn’t bother turning. Using illusion magic, his subordinates had bent the surrounding light to conceal themselves. Trying to see anything or anyone was a waste of time.
“Team 2 has detained a caravan of seven traveling merchants; Team 5 has detained one male. Both squads operate under Class 2 detainment. Should we continue the lockdown, sir?”
Luke gave a slight nod. “All teams continue operations.”
“With all due respect, Colonel,” came another voice, this one slightly skeptical. “Are you comfortable leaving everything in the tactician’s hands?”
“Christopher Armalite is from Adamant Arrow. Their combat capabilities are unmatched.”
“But sir—”
Luke waved to silence his subordinate.
“The Arrow takes its reputation very seriously,” Luke continued “They need to chase their loss and eradicate it, even if it does step on our toes.”
The invisible soldier said nothing. Luke let out a breath.
“Let the boy make the first attack. Baroness and her Arrow will owe us for the opportunity; they’ll owe us again if her tactician needs us to finish the job. This isn’t a bad thing.”
“Understood, sir. Blackhawk is standing by.”
Luke let his eyes focus on Taurus once more. He knew that his Blackhawk, more specifically known as the Special Unit of the Royal Military Intelligence Division, would follow his directions despite any dissident. His men were used to taking distasteful orders… and they already knew that “finishing the job” meant wiping Taurus off the map.
Luke Sturm wasn’t a cruel man, he simply left his emotions at the door. It was a necessary compromise for the leader of a unit unseen by the public and responsible for anything from palace-sponsored kidnapping to royalty-decreed assassination. Along with the Royal Special Forces Battalion 4, also known as Crimson Sword, and the Royal Special Forces Battalion 5, also known as Adamant Arrow, they formed the dark side of the Royal Military. The Blackhawk was known as the deadliest of the covert action units.
And yet, for a man used to sealing off his heart on duty, he couldn’t help but feel the barest hint of emotion for the tactician in question.
“I sincerely doubt he’ll win,” Luke said quietly.
“I agree, sir. And even if he does, he’ll suffer for it.” The voice of the subordinate was laced with a hint of nostalgia.
Luke remained stoic; he had work to do, and he needed to be prepared for that.
“An overly fine blade will fail in battle,” he remarked as he stared down at the town below.