Welcome to Gaia! ::

John Tomorrow soared.

The world passed beneath him seamlessly, endless paddocks and fields of luscious green grass and healthy leafy forests spanned out around him like a great green blanket. He closed his eyes and let his body drift as it floated loosely, letting it spin as the vapor trail behind him curled out like a comet's tail.

Forget the Thunderbird. Forget the thrill of battle. The only thing that came close to this feeling of euphoric weightlessness involved Hono'o and some....very personal moments.

Suddenly, his flightpath faltered, and he blinked hard as he felt gravity's fingers clutch at him, shaking his head as his body tipped forward and began to tumble, spinning head over feet through the air. The world spinning around him, John began to panic, not used to the feeling of being utterly powerless like this - but quickly calmed himself. He was in control. He was in control...

As suddenly as his flight was interuppted, he suddenly slowed in his spinning freefall, his head tipping around until he was facing the ground - several thousand feet beneath him. He let out a breath of relief. "Phew....nice one John."

Mental note - don't let the mind wander too far when using your magical flying helmet to travel.

His leather jacket swung freely around him, his jeans hanging down around his ankles as he righted himself in the air. His silver helm, skirted with silver tines around the guard's opening, glinted brilliantly in the sunlight of the Plains, the swept-back tines shivering slightly with the cool breeze blowing over his body. One hand gripped the hilt of the ancient broadsword strapped to his side, sheathed in garish wolfskin, whilst the other checked the axe strapped to his back, making sure it had not slipped out of its sheath - everything was in order.

It had not taken him very long to get the general traits of flying down - go too fast, and you might end up in a wall, as well as tear off all your clothes. Luckily, Thors Helm gave him some protection against such things as wind drag and his eyeballs drying out, as part of its magical properties. It didn't stop him from dropping stuff out of his pockets, though. After the first few trips, he learnt to keep his house keys and wallet firmly tucked in a pouch attached to his belt, as well as a map of any area he was planning on flying through - he wasn't a pidgeon, after all.

He'd lost his bearings momentarily during his freefall. Feeling the sun on his back, he deduced the eight paths of the compass around him instantly, and pulled out his map. The kingdom of Tellasa was not very big - not really a large nation-state, but more of a petty kingdom which rested next to the Kyudon fiefdom. He'd heard from local people that Tellasa had been one of the main exporters of wheat and grain a few generations ago - now it was barely a tourist destination, a plague having wiped out most of the people and crops within only a few short years. Only the King kept his subjects in food and shelter, which was the reason why John had decided to check the job out.

Figuring out his location via the river which bubbled beneath him and the three forests that flanked it, he set off again, tucking the map back into its pouch before exploding forward, the air blasting away from him as he shot forth like a bullet shot from a gun.

As he flew over what could only be the Tellasa lands, he noticed a general...reduction in the quality of life in the surrounds. Trees were withered and sickly, grass was a pale green which was starkly contrasted to the lush jade of the fields he'd been flying over previously. The soil seemed darker too, less body and more sandy, and lines of some mystery dirt seemed to be visible from his lofty vantage, seeming like the sickly veins within a cancer patient's thin skin, pulsing dead blood around the land. The fields were all but barren, with barely wisps of wheat or barely being grown. The people in this area were thin compared to the people he'd seen flying towards the kingdom - they were not sickly, like the land, but they seemed to have less life about them, as if they were only walking from one spot to another because it seemed like the right thing to do. As he flew over he coasted down towards the ground for a better look, and watched as grey eyes peered up at him as he flew past, half-shut with apathy.

It did not take him long to find the castle. Built atop a tall hill, the construct was a heavy squat of stone admist the flat Plains. It was a fortress, that much was certain - the stones were large and heavy, the gates wrought iron reinforced with steel. A drawbridge sat over a moat a hundred yards wide surrounding the castle, and at least fifty feet deep, swimming with rank waters. Flags with the kingdom's crest - a sword pointing downwards with arches of gold seeming to spill from the hilt - fluttered in the wind admist the parapits of the castle's outer walls. From above, he could see some people within, walking around in clustered clumps, like packs of bacteria spreading from one side of the courtyard to the next. Men in armour stood upon the battlements looking out down the hill and to the town beneath - some stood together, clearly talking to one another, obviously not giving a s**t about actually guarding their side of the fortress.

There were some cars parked in a small carpark just to the side of the drawbridge on the outer edge of the moat, where a small booth sat with a bored looking ticket-taker sitting within, and when John floated down to the ground before it, landing on the balls of his feet and feeling proud he managed to do it without falling over or stumbling, the ticket-taker looked less then impressed, yawning into his hand before resting his cheek upon his fist.

"...Tour left fifteen minutes ago, you'll have to wait..." He muttered as John pulled off his helm, shaking his long golden locks free as he tucked the helmet under his arm and approached the booth.

"I'm not here for a tour. I was told your king wishes for help from mercenaries. Something about overseeing a trade of something."

This got the man's attention. Although his pallor did not change, something flashed in his eyes, and he sat upright, pressing a stub down upon the microphone bolted to the booth's desk. "Sir, we have a man looking for a job."

Suddenly a gate opened within the archway into the castle's main courtyard, and a tall man dressed in a full suit of armor marched out into the clear Plains air. He had a halberd clenched in his hand, the kingdom's crest emblazoned on his chest-plate, and he marched perfunctorily over to John, who turned to face the man. "Hi, my name is - "

"Follow me." The man said, his voice muffled by his bucket helm, which looked way too hot for this type of weather for John's liking, who already had a slight sheen of sweat on his brow from wearing his helm in the bright cheery sun.

He followed the man over the drawbridge and into the courtyard, the man's armour clanking and clinging with each step. The actual castle itself in the north of the courtyard wasn't all that big - it was more of a gigantic mansion then a castle, but it had spires and things, so John figured he'd best keep calling it a castle. A smithy sat at the east end of the yard, where over eight men were working feverishly, pounding steel and blowing flue, tourists being kept safely behind ropes as they cooed and took pictures with their cameras as the men created death-dealers. To the west was what appeared to be a bakery which had been turned into a big bookstore/cafe/giftshop, tweens sick of being strung around by their parents sipping crappachinos and texting to each other on their G-phones.

The armored man led John past the tourists and the crappachinos to the main entrance to the castle, where the two equally armored guards saluted him and opened the doors. Within the doors was a lavish, if not spartan, hall with several paintings adorning the walls of men wielding lavish swords and fighting epic battles upon snorting mounts. Disturbingly, aside from the paintings, there was not much more in the way of elegance appropriate for such a building - there was no silverware or fine wooden end tables or statues. Indeed, John did not notice one servant as the guard led him through the halls of the castle, bare as they were, and he even noticed a few placed where a wall was clearly empty where a painting had once hung.

Finally, they reached a set of royal red oak doors, large and extravigant, and John was wondering why they had not been taken when the guard held his hand out. "Weapons."

John frowned at the man as he pulled his axe from it's sheath on his back, placing the heavy bladed weapon in the man's palm before untying the wolfskin sheath from his side. "You lead me all the way in here and only now ask me for weapons?"

"I am not alone." The man replied, pointing behind John, who turned to see six men standing to attention, dressed in dark leather and soft-soled boots. The clanking of the armor on the guard had not allowed John to hear their travels as they followed them. "And can you think of your way back out of the castle?"

"Uh, well..." John stuttered, frowning as he looked back down the hall and realized that, after the entrance, they had all pretty much looked the same.

"Exactly." The armored man said as he handed John's axe to one of the men before holding his hand out for John's sword, Tomorrow placing it in his hand with a small pout. "You can keep the helmet." He said as John held the helm out for him. Nonplussed, John tucked it back under his arm when rebuffed, and stepped out of the way as the guard approached the door. "Ragre." He said to it.

The seal of the door seeped dust, as if it had not been opened for a long time, before the giant oaks suddenly creaked open into the room beyond, displaying a cavernous room full of shelves and racks - what appeared to be a library of sorts. Instead of books, however, the shelves and racks contained swords of various sizes and natures, some simple gladiator swords, other elegant rapiers. As the guard led John through the racks, he noticed a dotanuki with a hollyhock emblem upon the hilt, a gigantic sword which was more like a slab of iron then a blade, and a sword with a golden hilt whose blade gleamed like white hot fire...

John noticed at the end of the room, between the two giant windows which spilled sunlight over the impressive collection, was a fireplace with a bearskin rug before it, a small end table and two chairs on either side of the table. Upon one chair sat a girl, no more then sixteen, dressed in an elegent white dress with a small tiara tucked into her chocolate brown hair. Upon the bearskin rub sat another girl, this one of the same age and also with chocolate brown hair, but wearing the prefunctory clothes of a servent, her hair kept tamed by the shawl tied around it. The tiara wearing girl - John assumed she was a princess of sorts - was knitting quietly, the servent girl holding the princesses yarn with both hands. The princess did not look up at the jacket-clad man or the armoured guard, though the servent looked at them both with dazzling green eyes...

"You are the mercenary." A voice muttered from the other chair, and John cocked his head to the side as an old man rose from his seat to approach the Asgardian. The man could be in his sixties, yet John reckoned him to be younger, stress having wrought much damage upon his body, which was thin and frail compared to the thick sinew which filled John's skin. He was dressed in a simple green robe and had a golden circlet upon his head, and as he approached John he bowed deeply. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, don't thank me yet, you haven't even told me what the job is..." John said with an uneasy grin, holding his hands up.

"Of course. I apologize." The old man said nervously as he righted himself, smoothing down his robe as he looked down to the princess knitting quietly. "I am just a little nervous...for the last three generations, my family has ruled over these lands, and cared for its subjects, as best we could...now may be the time for these infertile lands to become fertile once more."

"Riiiight..."

The King cleared his throat, beckoning for John to follow him. "For much of my family's time, these lands had been the greatest in all the plains...but three generations ago, the empire of Kyudon robbed us of the thing which kept us prosperous. A sword from my great great great great great great great great great great grandfather."

John looked over array of swords as they walked past them. "Thats not great....I take it your family had a thing for swords?"

John had a knack for stating the obvious, but the King did not seem to mind. "Oh my yes...we have never been very war-minded, but I share my same fascination with weapons that my forefathers did...although as you can see, my collection is severely lacking..." He said this with obvious sadness in his voice, and as soon as he realised he'd done it, he looked ashamed. "I should not complain....I've had to sell most of my collection to ensure my peoples wellbeing...it is for the greater good. But that is not important - the Prospero Sword is why I have put the call for men out."

"That is the sword the Kyudon stole?"

The King nodded. "Yes. They came into our walls under the guise of peace, and took it right from us. We have not prospered since."

"So you'd like me to steal it back?"

The King looked at him as if he'd just asked to kill a sack of kittens. "Good heavens no! Tellasa is a kingdom of honour, not a band of thugs who kill for gain! No, I have something much more diplomatic in mind...but before that, I must ask, how well do you know your weapons?"

John blinked. Typically he was called for the slaying of such and such, not diplomacy....and as for the kings next question... "I have extensive experience with all manner of weapons...i know cheap goods from quality....i have some smithing skills, but I would not call myself experienced..."

The king nodded slowly, finally stopping their walk before a display case. Within the case lay three swords, and as John's eyes were drawn to them, he instantly recognised that they were all different from one another. "Most men would want you to prove your word by the use of your steel...but as I said, I prefer diplomacy over brute strength. If you are to acquire the Prospero Sword, I need to know if you truly understand swordware. Not just edge and durability, but character, history, spirit. My people demand no less." He waved his hand over the cabinet. "Within this case is a sword of utter evil. Are you able to pick which one by sight alone?"

John sighed - he did not know he would be tested before the job - but he was open for the challenge. Looking down at the swords, he pondered them for a moment - before making his decision. "That one."

"Why that one?"

"It's the most obvious."

This answer seemed to make the King sigh. "Mister...er..."

"Tomorrow. John Tomorrow."

"Mister Tomorrow....I am not satisfied with your choice."

"...Because it was wrong?"

"...Because you guessed."

John sighed, irritated. "Look, you're obviously not used to doing this, so i'll be as gentle as i can be - if you want a blacksmith or a swordmaker, then you should be looking in the classified. If you want someone to do protection or fighting, you hire a mercenary. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

The Asgardian turned to go - but stopped as he felt a frail hand grip his sleeve. "Mister Tomorrow...you are right, I am not used to this. But...you do not seem like a deceitful man. You do not carry the air of a deceitful man, and i need people who i can trust."

"You barely know me." John said cooly, gently pulling his sleeve from the old man's grasp. "...But you are right, I am not a deceitful man. Your money is as good as the next man's, but if i am employed by you, I am yours until our contract is fulfilled or your money runs out."

The King bowed his head in gratitude. "Then, Mister Tomorrow, if I am to pay you for this deed, perhaps you can help me find someone who I will believe understands the spirit of weapons as well as I do."

"I dont think anybody will 'understand' things as well as you do, my lord...but you are in luck. I do know a guy..."







An hour later, John landed outside Kazamaru Ironworks, barely missing an old man as he attempted to perform his afternoon walk. "Sorry, sorry..." John said apologetically as he stepped around a lizard man waiting for a bus, looking at him strangely with his big silver helmet, and walked up to the opening looking into the forge.

"Hello?" He called into it. "Mr. Kazamaru? Mrs Kazamaru?" He placed both hands on the counter top and leaned over it, looking down to the floor, his lightening-filled eyes peering around the place. "Ryumi?"

It had been a while since Ryumi's birth and subsequent baby shower. Hono'o had been kind enough to invite him along, and John had enjoyed himself immensely....although the day after, he'd had a splitting headache from that Fae-wine. And he could not help but worry that his barbaric tendencies had gotten the best of him....but he had changed much since then. The death of Odin and John's subsequent rebirth had borne many changes, a lot of them physical - he was no longer the hulking behemoth you could easily spot in a crowd. He was still tall, well over six feet, but his bulk had been replaced with something sleeker, the body of a lion instead of a bear. His hair, hidden beneath the helm, had a shining golden luster to it, like it was made of spun gold, and his iris' literally contained electricity within them....peering into his perma-frost blue would yield you a light show you might have never seen before....

...He hadn't changed much in personality, though. Even if Ryugi did not accept his offer, at least he'd get to see Ryumi again, maybe even have a bit of play before anything else....

"Hello?"

((It has begun!))

"Nobody likes a blowhard, Ryugi!" Tomorrow joked, calling over the roar of the wind, his voice booming enough to reach the dragon's ears over the rushing air as the dragon came back to fall in beside the flying Tribal. "I know a father likes to show off to their daughters, but thats ridiculous!"

He was grinning. Maxi liked to race, huh? Maybe with Maximos' magic rocket boots, John's Asgardian Helm and Ryugi's dragon-speed, maybe they should have a race one day....although if Ryugi lost, he might eat the winner. There was only so fast a dragon could go, after all....'owner of the skies' and all... wink

Circling around the mighty dragon's wings as they beat up and down methodically, John pulled alongside Ryumi, flying on his side with his hands clasped behind his helm, grinning down to the little girl as his brown coat flapped behind him violently like washing hung out during a storm. "Your Daddy should do this more often, dont you think?" He asked with a wink.

That should show the dragon-kin. How long would it take for Ryumi to start pestering Ryugi to do this again? John had planted a niggling little seed which would bug Ryugi for a long time... xd

He reached out and pinched her cheek gently, poking his tounge out at her playfully before peeling away, curving his back and flying under one of those gigantic bat-like wings as it lifted up, looping around underneath the dragon before coming up next to it's head, grabbing onto the flap of Ryugi's ear to gather his attention.

"North!" He cried into it - before peeling away again, coming up and in front of the dragon, leading them towards adventure and excitement!









A two hour flight later, the rolling green plains were beginning to look less hosptiable. Farmers and farm hands had been treated to the sight of a great golden dragon flying through the sky, its mighty wings beating powerfully as it followed after a small object with a small vapour trail coming from the back, which could be anything....but decidedly human in shape...

But the lands were beginning to look less green, the crops beginning to fail, and as John realised they were getting closer to their destination he began to slow, coming to Ryugi's head once more, gripping the dragon's ear to speak into it over the rushing wind. "We'll land in that valley to the west, then it should only be a short walk to the castle, okay?"

He pointed out the valley to the dragon's reptilian eye - a small crack in the veined earth which looked like it would easily hold Ryugi's wingspan. A few dilapidated huts sat on the edges of the valley, but the owners would most likely be out trying to do something with their infertile soil, trying to get something to grow...

John flew away from the dragon and coasted down to the ground quickly, his wake leaving a score upon the dusty ground as he flew only a few feet off the ground, his momentum easing with each foot of distance gained, until he was able to swing his legs out beneath him, lifting off the ground slightly before his feet touched down, his boots skidding against the dusty earth suddenly, causing him to hop up into the air once, clearing almost twenty meters in a single hop. Gritting his teeth, he came down once again, his boots skidding along the ground again - but this time, he managed to slow enough to stumble to a halt, his momentum slowing down to almost a snail's pace as he hopped, skipped and jumped to a stop.

Breathing a sigh of releif, he patted down his pants, dust puffing off his clothes as he patted down his coat as well. Say what you want about flying, after two solid hours of just flying straight, your brain tended to turn to mush - and when that happened, it was a b***h to land. It was like when you walked for miles and miles and miles in one day - as soon as you want to stop, your body seems to think it's still walking, having gotten used to the feeling.

Checking to make sure his sword and axe were still properly sheathed - they were - he stood back and raised a hand up to block the sun as he awaited Ryugi's landing. It would probably be impressive. Ryugi had been at this longer then John, after all.

"Aye, we'd best not....and I'll keep that in mind for the future..." He said with a curt nod, pulling off his helm and shaking his hair loose, running his fingers through it as he tucked the helmet under his arm. "Alright....it should be this way."

He led them out of the valley and up a small road through a tiny village, a typical medieval setup, the only modernization recognizable being the power lines running across from each hut and the occasional car or tractor. It was easy to see that the people here needed something to keep them going, but it was even more evident up close - the smell of the place was rank, as if nobody even bothered to bathe anymore, and that dull look in their eyes was even more evident when they saw three people who they'd never seen before come out from the bottom of their valley after a dragon had flown in.

"Hey..." One farmer muttered quietly, leaning on his hoe as John passed him. "Did you see - "

"No." John replied, cutting the man off before he could finish his sentence. Dragons were not known as the best of creatures, and the knowledge that his silver-haired friend walking beside him with daughter in tow might just be enough to rouse these people. Best to just let by-gones be by-gones and leave them scratching their heads.

Besides...judging by the way they were looking at them, they might not even remember them passing through. As they walked, children sat on their porch steps sullenly, as if someone had sucked all the fun out of the crisp clear sky. Mothers sweeping the porches looked up at the big golden-haired man with lightening for eyes carrying a war-axe and sword, the silver-haired man carrying a bag with blacksmith gear hanging out of it in one hand and a small girl beside him with pink eyes....and went right back to sweeping, as if it was an everyday occurance.

"By the gods, I'm in real danger of dying from boredom already...how these people survive here is beyond me." John murmured to Ryugi. The Asgardian Tribal honestly wondered why these people had not all killed themselves yet - they just looked so downtrodden, lacking such life as to only just barely keep themselves upright.

"There's our destination....that fortress up the hill." John said to Ryugi and Ryumi, pointing up to the mighty walls atop the hill, the spires of the castle peeking out from within. Soon they had climbed the hill, up the winding road (why always winding? Why not straight up?) and stood before the moat, the walls of the fortess bearing down on them. Unlike earlier in the day, this time the drawbridge was drawn up, and John had to call to the guard to lower it. For some reason, the tourist boost was empty, as was the carpark, as if everybody had left for the day, even though it was only mid-afternoon.

He looked down to Ryumi and smiled to her as the drawbridge slowly went down, revealing the mansion within. "It may not look like much, but its a real castle. Its got tapestries and paintings and grand halls and everything."

The guard that greeted them mentioned that the king would receive them in but a moment, if they did not mind waiting outside to be invited in.

The cafe was shut, all the tables and chairs stacked up outside the gift shop. The smithy was still going, however, the blacksmiths pounding away at their metal, creating stacks and stacks of steel swords and armor. The heat emanating from the smithy was oppressive, but John approached it anyways, standing at the tourist rope to look in on the shirtless men sweating profusely as they smashed red-hot steel, sparks flaring from their hammers. He wondered why they would need to work so hard to make swords....were they expecting an attack of sorts?

He turned to Ryugi and nodded his head to a stack of swords. "What do you think? There's got to be at least two hundred swords in that stack alone....it looks like they're preparing for an invasion..."

John did not reply to Ryugi's comment, but he looked at him with a steely glance, as if that was his way of telling Ryugi not to be so stupid. John was as 'human' as Ryugi - simply in a different way. John did not have a shape to disguise himself in - although he could disguise himself. What he did have was a clearer understanding on humans, because he was so easily mistaken for one....sometimes by himself as well.

Hard working folk did not simply stay due to some love of their home, of their land. Barely a days walk to the south would lead them to greener pastures. Jobs, fertile land, clean water....people who live in squalor do so because they have no choice. These people have choice, plenty of them...yet they do not take it.

John found Ryugi's inherent value of honor admirable...but it was also a little naive.

As Ryumi explored the courtyard where they waited, her eyes would inevitably be cast upwards to the windows lining the castle itself - and spy a brown-haired girl, looking out from behind a curtain. She looked down at the little girl with piercing green eyes and waved timidly, clutching at the curtain - before looking back into the room behind her, as if called, and vanished from view, the curtain falling back into place...

...As John reached past the rope to take one of the swords, the blacksmith grunting noncommittally at him as he did, as if he didn't care the slightest if the big blond man took the sword...the way he returned to his task, it was clear he would not miss one sword.

Stepping back, John swung the sword in the air, hearing the swish as it cut through the atmosphere. Ryugi's assessment was one hundred percent correct - these swords were mass produced, made for function, not form. They were sharp, they had a point, that was it. There was only one reason for this object to exist - to kill.

But then....wasn't that the whole reason of a sword? To kill?

In any case, the doors of the mansion opened wide, allowing the King to walk into the courtyard. He was flanked by two men suited in full plate armor, the Tellasa crest emblazoned proudly upon their chest-plates, long halberds held in their hands.

"Ugly, isn't it?" The King said as he saw John wield the sword. "A sword such as that...no function, no history, no character. I equate it to a vase that holds no flowers...or a, a pickle jar with, without the pickles..."

"Flowery." John interrupted, stabbing the tip of the sword into the ground, the blade quivering as he stood upright. "...But it doesn't explain why it exists. I thought you were a pacifist."

The King coughed nervously, smoothing his white hair down and reaffirming that his circlet was still in place. "Yes....we are not not very war-minded, as I said...but these are not for war. At least, not for any war I wish to start....they are for trade. Surely a hundred thousand swords are better then just one...even if they are nothing but cheap imitations."

He blinked suddenly, noticing Ryugi, and approached the dragon-kin excitedly. His grey eyes were wide, his old wizened hand stretching out for Ryugi to take. "Ah - you must be the sword-master Mr. Tomorrow told me of - a man of great integrity, he insisted!"

John shifted a little nervously. He'd told the old man that he knew a fantastic blacksmith, an honorable man...

The King of Tellasa smiled proudly at Ryugi's knowledge of proper royal ettiqute - something the more boorish John Tomorrow could not help but scoff at. The King patted Ryugi's hand gently, his grey eyes wide in wonder and excitement, his voice breathless with glee. "It is I who should be honored, dear boy - who would have thought that Mr. Tomorrow would bring me none other then Ryugi Kazamaru, famous for his victories in the Heaven and Hell tournaments, weilder of the Greatsword Ragnarok..."

At the mention of the name, John shuddered a little, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck as he felt the hairs stand on end. Ragnarok.....the mere mention of it left a feeling in his stomach like he had been cut in two...

"Arise, damn you, he is only a man." John muttered gruffly, feeling shaken by the name of the sword as he interuppted the King's gushings. The King, unperturbed by John's attitude, nodded along with him, grasping Ryugi's hand and helping him to his feet as well as his feeble frame could.

"Yes yes, do not kneel in the dirt for me...it should be I who kneels for you. A man of your talent and expertise should certainly be of great worth to my venture..." The old man looked down to Ryumi, smiling down to her warmly, his wizened face stretching a little as he smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ryumi. Pay attention and learn well from your father - wisdom is the best thing a parent can pass down to a child!"

Unfortunately, the girl in the window did not return - but the King nodded to John. "Mr. Tomorrow, did you tell inform him on the situation?"

"Enough to gather interest and get by. I'm sure if he has questions he will ask you." John replied with a curt nod.

"Very well. Please follow me, Sir Ryugi and Mr. Tomorrow..." The King said, turning to walk back towards the castle, the two guards following after him.

"'Sir Ryugi', nya nya nya..." John muttered under his breath sarcastically when the old man was out of earshot, nudging Ryugi with his elbow as he winked at him. "Seems you have a fan here, Dragon-kin. This is good!"

The King and his guards would lead them into the mansion, and as they walked through the winding, bare halls, the King would speak, telling the trio of his world. "As you can see, Sir Ryugi, these are hard times....I have spent almost all of my family and personal fortune to keep my people fed and safe, and have degredated my castle to the point of boorish tourism in order to establish its upkeep. My people struggle, and I struggle, but no matter what we try or do, we are losing the fight. Soon my money will run out, the royal coffers will dry, and my people will either dwindle away to other places, or starve in their homes. I do not wish for either of those things to occur, Sir Ryugi, and this is why the Prospero Sword is vital to our continued survival."

"The robbery of the Sword was done by a dastardly descendant of the current Emperor of Kyudon, and ever since the Tellasa people and kingdom have wallowed in destitute. You see, Prospero, my forefather, loved his people and lands so much that he poured that love into his sword, so it would become a beacon of wellbeing for all time - the ultimate irony being that, as a sword, its only intention is to kill. He thought by turning a weapon into a life-giving tool, it would balance the world, and bring favour to his family and people. Clearly, as soon as the sword was taken from this land, the love went with it, and so the Tellasa fell into disarray."

They came to the double doors John recognised as leading into the old man's weapon. The King paused at the doors, spoke the magic word, and walked through, the guards and the trio following. The massive rows of swords of many, many shapes, sizes and types filled their vision, and the King paused to look down at little Ryumi. "Now, my child, I must warn you, some of these weapons are extremely dangerous to even touch let alone weild, so I must ask that you do not touch them, okay?"

He spoke to her like a grandfather would speak to a grandchild, and he looked to Ryugi with a wistful smile. "You are blessed - when my late wife bore me my daughter, I was the happiest man in the world. The Tellasa are as infertile as the land, you see - it was hard for the royal line to breed and mingle with other royalty as the generations passed." He cast his eyes over the collection of swords he had at his disposal, his voice quiet, passionate, saddened. "If they had asked, I would trade all my worldly possessions for the knowledge that her future, and the future of our people and the royal bloodline, was secure." He sighed heavily. "However....the Kyudon Emperor is a simple man. He only desires for strength, to prove himself mighty before the neighbouring lands...so he has amassed an army. But an army must be well equipped - which is where my blacksmith's toil comes in. Ten thousand swords for one - a fair trade, no?"

He smiled sadly, looking back to Ryugi and answering the question before he could answer for him. "No. Of course not. Prosperity for your people and lineage over the army at your feet....I feel the Emperor is quite mad. But if that is what it takes, then that is what it takes. I feel ashamed to do such a thing...but it must be done."

He then walked further into the rows of swords, approaching a large glass case which held three swords. The King walked around it and placed his hands upon the edge of the frame, his face crestfallen. "I apologise completely for this....but I must test your skills as a swordsmith and as a judge of spirit. Please look upon these three swords and tell me....which one is utter evil?"

Within the case sat three swords.

The sword on the left was a simple broadsword. Steel, the blade notched and dull. It had seen many, many battles. The handle was wrapped in a rich red leather, the guard and pommel burnished steel, chunks and divots missing from parries and counters. It sat heavily in the satin lining of the case, holding much weight in the blade.

The next could not truely be called a weapon - it looked more like a butcher's cleaver. The blade was giant, wide, thin and had a single edge which was chipped but not blunt - indeed, the edge was still razor thin, and stained a deep, rich red with ancient, dried blood. The handle was a simple wooden one, two pieces of oak nailed together through the handle of the blade. Even through the thick glass, if one stood over it, they could distinctly smell pork.

The last sword was a work of art. It was a thin rapier, with a golden hilt and hand-guard, with intricate filligree covering the guard and pommel. The thin blade shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun as it poured through the gigantic windows, well polished and oiled. Delicate carvings in an ancient language ran down the middle of the blade, and near the base of the hand guard was a small engraving - To my Darling, from your eternal bride.

The King - and John - watched Ryugi intently. If he wished, he could inspect the weapons with a magical sense to gain more insight, but for now, it would be interesting to see which one he would pick....