Jassen looked at the sword that glinted with yellow light from Ogi’s forge. A two-handed blade with no ornaments. Not thick, but not thin either. It seemed light but solid. A blade worthy of a king’s hand, worthy of a story or a legend.
“What’s it called?”
“Dreamer. That’s what everyone who thinks they can kill that thing is.”
“What happened to its last bearer?”
“He gave up when he went there and saw what he was up against. He asked if he could get some coins back if he returned the sword. I gave him half, but I’m still ahead on the bargain. I charge extra.”
“He’s a good blacksmith, alright, but definitely not a good trader.” - Niko whispered to Olena, smirking.
“Was he the only one who came to you looking for a sword?” - Jassen asked.
“No, there have been a lot of men like you throughout the years, but this is the only one who returned his sword. I’d rather save good steel when I have the chance, but what can you do? Dreamer is as good as new, and it’s never tasted blood. It’s a virgin, in a way. But before you reach for the hilt, make sure you’ve thought this through.”
The man reached under his coat, pulled out a bag, and dropped it on the table. It rang with the sound of coins and strong intentions.
“You sure you want this, boy?” - Ogi asked him again.
“He’s not looking to make a donation.” - Niko, the other guy with a sword on his hip, barked.
“Niko, calm down, brother. It’s rare to find a man as passionate about making swords as you are about swinging them.” - Jassen said.
There was a command hidden somewhere in the polite tone of Jassen’s voice. And like a trained hound, Niko recognized it and pressed his lips together.
“My grumpy friend here is Niko. You can’t tell, but he’s quite the sweetheart. That lady is Olena, and she shoots an arrow like a ballista. And this fellow over here is Bozmaroff.” - Jassen said and put his hand on the shoulder of the boy with the scrolls.
“Bozmaroff? Don’t you have a name of your own?” - Ogi asked.
“I lost the first one on a bet.” - the boy replied
“You lost your freaking name on a bet? How does that even work? Never mind, I don’t need to know. I’m only concerned about why you’re doing all this. Why do the four of you want to fight that monstrosity?” - Ogi asked
“Only I do.” - answered Jassen.
“Are you looking for vengeance? Did you have family who died in Nava when the beast scorched it?”
“No.”
“It’s greed, then. You want the beast’s treasure hoard. That’s it.”
“There are simpler ways to get rich.”
“So you’re after a woman, eh? This beauty’s father has a thing for hunting trophies.”
“Wrong again.”
“Then it has to be religion, you…”
“Let me save you the trouble, blacksmith. I’m doing it for myself, out of my own desire and need.”
“For yourself? What do you have to do with this? You weren’t even born when the city burned.”
“No, I wasn’t, but I want to be the one to kill the monster. I’m doing it for my own legacy. To add my name to the tale, to do what no other man has managed to do.”
“No higher purpose than your own glory?”
“Must there be one? I’m not on a journey to sacrifice my life for someone else’s sake. To the contrary, I intend to build it.”
If you’re lucky enough, one day, you meet someone with a spark in their eye. An ember that tells the coming of a greater flame. You know you’re looking into the eyes of someone who can bend the world to their will with that much momentum in their gaze. You feel their excitement and thrill and lack of patience to put up with any of the established rules. And somehow, you feel happy and excited, and you want to join this beautiful fiery soul on its journey to make a dent. Even if they don’t rewrite the history books, even if it’s just a small footnote on the second to last page, you know you will have something to do with that. Ogi knew that spark, for he’d seen it before, making swords, halberts, and shields for adventurers and warriors.
But the man in front of him had no fire in his eyes, no sign of it at all. Just a sense of cold inevitability.