The Blood-Stained Blade Ch. 84-87

Ch. 84 - A Dead End

The first thing the blade did was study the man that held it. It was not yet convinced he would ever earn the title of wielder, but even as he struggled to release his own grip the blade’s first order of business was to peer inside his soul. 

Name: Anthel Blegg

Occupation: Grave robber and Thief

Toughness: 4+4

Strength: 4+14

Agility: 5+8

Speed: 4+4

Intelligence: 4

Willpower: 3 -1

Morality: Greedy

Bloodlust: Cowardly

Status: Normal

Martial Skill: Average

Armor Proficiency: Below Average

Dodging: Good

Athletics: Average

Goal: To make a big score before his old bones finally give out and retire to the capital.

At a glance, there was nothing about the man that the blade liked. He lived a life of treachery and sought a life of ease, which was diametrically opposed to what the blade wanted. It wanted someone loyal, who wanted to carve their bloody name into history. 

That could be resolved later, it decided, as it exercised more force on the man and began to squeeze his soul so that he would stop panicking. 

Silence, the blade commanded, enjoying the feeling of fear wash through the man at the single word. You have nothing to fear from anything so long as I am in your hand.

“Well, as comforting as that isn’t, I don’t want you in my hand, so maybe you could let loose!” the man said in a voice that was only as loud as the blade allowed. “Blades ain’t for talkin’. They’re for fighting and selling!”

+4 Life Force. 

Normally, I would have no wish to be sold, the blade whispered, but you are clearly insufficient to be my wielder. 

“That’s me,” the man grumbled, obviously unhappy at being held in an invisible cage. “Mister insufficiency himself.”

Tell me who you intend to sell me to, the blade commanded. I want to be held by a warrior, not some fop or toadie! Truthfully, what the blade wanted most was to be free of this place before the elven mage or any of her associates returned to this place. It could fight them with this body, but its reserves were low, and its movements would be less effective if it was fighting this coward’s instincts the entire time. 

“Well, Sir Gilles is a man that’s fought in more than one battle against the orcs,” Anthel wheedled. The blade didn’t sense a lie, but then it didn’t sense much truth in anything this man said. “I heard that he wanted to be here, only he held back to defend his town.”

That at least spoke to the blade as loyalty and wisdom. While it wasn’t quite the bloodlust it sought, it was more promising than staying in the grip of a blade robber. Very well, the blade told him after only a short delay. I will allow this. You may take me to this, Sir. Gilles, but first, we must prepare for the journey. 

“The journey? I mean, I’ve got food for tomorrow on my nag. It’s only a day or two away by horse,” the grave robber explained too eagerly. With this news, he’d stopped trying to remove the sword from his grip, though, and the blade simply appreciated that it was not being peppered with small negative numbers. “If we stick to the main roads, you could be out of my life in—”

I am unconcerned for your needs, the blade reprimanded the man. You are not a wielder. You are merely a messenger that will take me to one. 

“Listen, you just tell me what you need, and I’ll—” Anthel started, trying to ingratiate himself to something he simply could not understand. 

+3 Life Force.

Blood. The blade Answered, moving the man’s arm to point at the last few scavengers that lingered along the human lines in the morning light. My energies are low, and I require death to replenish them. Once we’ve killed those people, we can be on our way. If there is a village or a town between here and this place where the lord resides, perhaps we can—

“What did they ever do to you?” the grave robber blurted out before the blade strangled him into silence. It exalted in that feeling of control. When Ren had first picked it up so long ago, it lacked the strength to reject him until they were bonded by the blood of their enemies. Even as pathetic as the simpering shepherd boy had been, though, he’d been willing to kill; Anthel was too much of a coward for that.

They existed, it fumed. Worse, they, like you, chose the life of vermin rather than warriors, and there is nothing wrong with slaughtering vermin. 

The blade still felt some guilt when its orcs cut down women and children around it. They’d done nothing wrong and hadn’t even grown up to show their true colors. For the men and women picking among the dead for trinkets, though, it had no such misgivings. After losing Var’gar to magic and treachery, it was in no mood for further disobedience, and even as Anthel tried to struggle and regain some control over his body, the blade turned and started making its way through the corpses toward the half a dozen remaining men. 

No, stop! The man screamed mentally, but he lacked the will to hold back the blade or even speak now that it had Increase Control 4. The most he could do was make its motions jerky and awkward. I’m not a murderer. I would never do this. 

+4 Life Force.

And that is why you are unfit to wield me, the blade agreed. You are afraid of violence and afraid of death when the purpose of all living things is to die.

The first man it approached in the graverobber's body smiled nervously and said, “Oh, it’s just you, Anthel. I thought it was about to… You find something nice or what? Wow! Look at that bugger! That’s a hell of a ruby on—”

The man didn’t even have time to scream before the blade drove itself through his chest. He might have thought he’d known the timid thief that it had seized control of, but he had no idea who was in charge now. 

+4 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.

The other men nearby cried out in alarm. Some drew swords, and others ran, but in the space of minutes, everyone who hadn’t fled for their lives was dead, and Anthel was splattered in their blood. He was still sobbing softly in his head, but the blade ignored that. The man he possessed had stopped struggling for the most part after his efforts to hold the Ebon blade had led to him taking a sword through the liver. That had been a wound that was both bloody and painful. 

+117 Life Force.
+2 Human Soul.

The sword felt embarrassed that anyone had landed a strike on it when it was in direct control, but it found itself to be more hampered by an unwilling human than it had expected, and it only regained some sense of fluidity after Anthel decided he did not wish to be carved up a second time. 

I’m not doing this, he told himself pathetically while the Ebon Blade hacked the other grave robbers to a bloody ruin. It’s not me. I’m not the one killing these people.

The blade let him babble in the corner of his mind like a child. Then, when everyone was dead or fled, it walked to the closest corpse with the right-sized scabbard and sheathed itself before hanging the thing on Anthel’s belt. 

+96 Life Force.
+2 Human Soul.

As soon as the weapon released the man, he sank to his knees, which annoyed it. Go! It commanded. The sooner you bring me to the warrior in question, the sooner you will be rid of me!

That got the grave robber moving as much as anything, and he scampered across the field to where he’d tied his old horse near the treeline. Once he was mounted, he rode as fast as the horse would allow. The animal was nearly as useless as the man who owned it, but the blade ignored both of them and focused on its own issue. 

It had won a battle and captured several important souls but lost its army in the process. That was frustrating, and it had no idea how it would bring down the castle now, but a competent wielder was still the first priority. Once it was in the hands of someone who wanted the same things that it did, they could regroup. Perhaps this nobleman has designs on the throne, the blade reflected. Ambition was something that it hoped to find in the days ahead. Truthfully, it was probably more important than bloodlust.

For now, though, it had souls to interrogate. The first thing it did was devour the souls of the nameless grave robbers, bringing it back up to nearly a thousand life force. Once that was done, it briefly checked its abilities to understand where it was at; in the midst of battle, it had purchased many things, but after the fact, it was hard to remember what. 

Primary Powers:

Increase Connection 5: 2500 Life Force
Accelerate Wielder 4: 3000 Life Force
Amplify Wielder 4: 3000 Life Force
Amplify Blade 4: 4000 Life Force
Disrupt 5: 5000 Life Force
Repair Soul 5: 5000 Life Force
Increase Control 5: 6000 Life Force
Empower Blade 4: 7500 Life Force
Bolt 5: 15000 Life Force

Secondary Powers: 

False Image 5: 4000 Life Force
Giant’s Strength 3: 800 Life Force
Speed of the Shadows 3: 1000 Life Force

The blade looked through its abilities and liked what it saw. Many of the abilities were nearly to five, which probably meant they would be completed soon. One more city, even a battle of any size, and it could start completing any number of these. 

The biggest mystery, though, was that Bolt 5 was more than the total value of Life Force it was capable of holding. Does that mean that I can bring that number up further? It wondered, Or can I bridge that gap by holding onto enough souls when I make the purchase? The blade had no idea, but it was eager to find out. 

Anthel rode until almost noon before the weapon allowed him to stop. Even then, they only took a break because the horse needed it, not because he was growing tired. The blade didn’t care that he’d stayed up all night stealing from the dead. 

Along the way, they passed through one village, but the blade opted not to start another bloodbath. As much as it wanted more souls, secrecy was more important for the moment. Right now, it could be anywhere, and those who pursued it had no clues as to its whereabouts, but as soon as it started massacring people, they would have somewhere to focus their search. Instead, it only nibbled at a villager and a few of the animals and merchants that stayed close to it long enough for it to taste their Life Force. 

+42 Life Force.

That wasn’t enough, though. Not after it had gotten used to feasting. During those five hours, it burned two mage souls with questions about what they knew and their plans. The first one, the necromancer, was very informative in that regard. Through his eyes, the blade was able to see meetings where they’d planned this attack. It listened to its former wielder laid out all of its capabilities, and told the assembled mages what he thought it was capable of. 

“You don’t understand,” Ivarr insisted when some of them blew him off. “It’s not just a sword. It’s a hunger, and it wants revenge. Even if we ambush it with everything we have… even if you bathe it in dragon fire, it might not be enough.”

Some, like the elven witch that led him astray, believed him, but others doubted his words. “If it takes minutes to heal organs and bones, then we need only batter its wielder with primal forces until it is naught but ash.”

The blade was infuriated by the boy’s betrayal. At times, it was so angry that the wisps of story from the mage it was interrogating threatened to come unraveled. Still, despite all of that rage, it was grateful for how wrong the boy was about its current level of power. Its enemies understood very little of what it could really do, and they would live to regret their arrogance. 

When the blade interrogated the second soul, though, something interesting happened. This one it asked a more theoretical question. How can I hide from those who hunt me? The weapon asked. 

While the mage gave it complicated instructions on the nature of the aether and how mages gauged the power of things, something else happened when that conversation was done. While it was all very interesting to learn how the mages cast shrouding spells to hide the light of their power, when that interrogation finally ended, it found a new prompt. 

Upgrading Improved Senses with new information: 

Aether-shroud 1: Reduce the visibility of your magical power by 20% at the cost of five Life Force a day. 

Aether-sight 1: For the cost of one Life Force you may view the world for a moment through the eyes of a mage instead of the eyes of a tactician.

Despite it’s low levels of Life Force the blade did just that while Anthel watered his horse. It didn’t know what it had expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t what it found. 

Aether-sight activated. 

-1 Life Force.

Ch. 85 - A Show

For a moment, the world glowed. Not just it, or the reflected light of its ruby but the light of the whole world. Up until now improved senses had allowed it to see who might be a mage and what items were magical, but those glimpses of magic were nothing like this. 

The trees and the plants no longer had stiff edges. Instead, they were waving fronds of dim light that did nothing to hide the brighter spots of the birds, squirrels, and rabbits that hid among them. 

Everything was connected in the most beautiful of ways, and though the blade couldn’t appreciate a sunset as anything but a tactical concern, it was hard not to see the art in the world when it looked at it this way. 

Everything is connected, except for me, it realized as the light began to fade, and its vision returned to normal. Uncharacteristically, the blade found that it missed the sight when it was gone and reactivated it immediately. This time, it wasn’t to study the beauty of the forest, though; it was to look at itself more carefully. 

Aether-sight Activated.

-1 Life Force.

While nature was a beautiful twisting pattern dotted with the beating hearts of animals that burned like fiery jewels was gorgeous, none of them were particularly bright, and all of them faded into a gray haze as it gazed upon itself, and in particular, the jewel in its hilt. 

Even with only 1104/10600 Life Force, it burned brighter than every other light in the grove combined. It now understood why the elven mage had stared at it so often by the campfire. Its wielder might have been smart enough to wrap a rag around its hilt to cover the red light that often leaked from the ruby, but that wouldn’t hide anything from a mage's sight. 

It took in every detail, from the swirling souls in its ruby to the faint glowing of the runes along its blade, which clarified a number of things. The first was that while everything else it could see, including Anthel and his horse, was connected to everything else around them, the only thing the blade was connected to was the man who held it. Everything else it sharply rejected, as it should. 

And this is with that shroud active, it thought, as the image started to fade a second time. How much brighter had I been at the heart of Stefan’s Ford when I was buying upgrades at random just to avoid overflowing? 

It didn’t know, but the next time it was in such a moment, it would. The Ebon Blade spent a long time thinking about that, even after Anthel got moving again a few minutes later. It still had the souls of its last two wielders and a couple more mages that he hadn’t decided how best to interrogate yet, but right now, it was less concerned with them than its own nature. For too long, it had thought itself hidden, but it was a bonfire among candles, and if it held any amount of power, then everyone could see it. 

+14 Life Force.

I must get that ability higher, it decided. Compared to that, growing stronger, repairing its soul, or even progressing along the path of vengeance was pointless. 

Anthel tried to stop several more times that day, but the blade wouldn’t allow him to do so for very long. The horse was given half an hour to drink or graze, and then they were moving again. The grave robber begged to be allowed to rest, but the blade had no interest in that. The only time he was even allowed to linger for the full thirty minutes was because a traveling peddler happened by, and they got to talking. The blade devoured the man’s life and soul before sending its bearer on his way again. 

+68 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.

You may rest when I am in worthy hands, not before, the blade said. It was the only answer it offered to the man's incessant complaints.  

Eventually, after more than a day on the road, they reached their destination the following evening. By then, both man and horse were exhausted, but the blade ignored both and gazed around the small, picturesque town and the aging abomination that was Gilles Hall perched above it. The town seemed neither large nor wealthy, but their soldiers seemed professional enough. 

Anthel told the gate guard that he had urgent news for Lord Gilles about the battle of Malden Glade, which was apparently what the place the orcs had met their end at was called. That was enough to get him in the door, at least, for it seemed that the people here were quite anxious about that attack. 

After he reached the stables, a chamberlain asked him for an explanation. Anthel relayed a bit of information about where he’d been and what he’d been up to. He claimed to have something that the Baron would want to see but refused to say more because the blade wouldn’t allow it. 

Tell only the man himself, the Ebon Blade admonished him. 

“In-in private,” the grave robber gasped, doing as he was told. He hadn’t wanted to, despite the blade’s orders, so it had forced him to. 

Whether it was because the man didn’t want to be alone with the blade or the man he planned to pawn it off on, the weapon wasn’t sure because he feared both of them. Either way, that was enough to get him into the manor, which was a far cry from a true palace. Even though Anthel had told the man little, it was an intriguing development for such a backwoods barony, and it watched the guards and servants scurry about to the high table as the news was relayed one rung of the social ladder at a time. 

Sir Gilles glanced at the dirty old man for only a moment and then nodded. This caused another slow cascade of orders to drift all the way back to the back of the grand hall, which was hardly worthy of the name since it sat less than fifty. Still, Anthel was given a seat at the furthest back table and told, “You’ll be given your private meeting once our Lord is done entertaining his other guests.”

That annoyed the blade. It was obviously the most important thing in this room, or even this town, and should be made the priority. Only its need to hide its power and existence kept it from lashing out violently and making that known. When it had a wielder, it would abide by their wishes, but while it was still being carried by trash, it would make the decisions. 

So, the Ebon Blade endured the paltry dining conversation as Anthel ate ravenously for the first time in over a day. As it did so, though, it nibbled at the souls of everyone in the room. Before it had transformed its Aura of Hunger from a weapon into a tool, it could have drained everyone in here dry before the dinner had gotten cold. 

+102 Life Force.

Now, it still fed well, though, and devoured more than a hundred Life Force while it judged the man that might be its next wielder from a distance. He was cruel and strong. The blade could see that much from here. He liked to drink too much, too, and the way that his young wife flinched at his touch was rather telling. Even the worst man would be less monstrous than the orc it had been wielded by for the last two months, though, so the blade withheld judgment.

When the gathering had wound down, and everyone but Lord Gilles and his guards had vacated the room, the coward that carried it was finally allowed to rise and approach the high table. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite rat,” the noble said with a sneer. “Find some trinket on the battlefield that you think I might favor? My wife Serra has enough jewelry, I think.”

“No, no, my Lord, this isn’t something for her; it’s for you,” Anthel said, clearing his throat before he continued. “A-a sword of immense power. It’s some kind of hexblade, I think that I found among the orcs.”

Anthel drew it then, and even though that made the guards stiffen, it did not react in any way. “You see the ruby here, it glows in battle, and the runes, sometimes too… its, I haven’t had a lot of experience with it.”

“Go on then, show us this magical sword of yours,” the noble laughed, obviously entertained. “If it does what you say, I’ll give you its weight in gold.”

“Go on? Why don’t you hold it? It will talk to you, and you can ask it whatever you want,” the grave robber added with obvious confusion. “I just said, I’m not a warrior. I don’t know the first thing about—”

“Hold? Talk? I have my own hexblade, I’m afraid, and I’m not in the habit of buying magic orcish voodoo just because it's got ugly markings on it,” The noble interrupted before gesturing to one of his guards before issuing the command, “Kill him, or at least try to. I want to see if it does anything.”

The man hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he swallowed hard and drew his blade. The blade assessed the opponent. The man was younger and in better shape. He was even wearing armor, which would have been enough to guarantee a victory in any other fight. The blade wanted to strike the man down just to disprove the smug noble’s attitude, but as it was, he did nothing.

This man is not my wielder; I owe him nothing, the blade told itself, as Anthel held it in a half-hearted defensive posture. The man really didn't want to fight, but as little interest as he had in that, the blade had even less interest in saving him. It was not in the habit of deciding the first fights of its wielders. While it couldn’t withdraw all the strength and speed, or even the raw regeneration that the man received simply for holding it, it could deny him everything else, including its knowledge. 

Still, its appearance alone was enough to make the young guard cautious, and he wisely opened up with a few feints. The blade could appreciate that, just like it could appreciate the mortal fear of the man who held it. He managed to deflect the first blow that came with his name on it, and as the clash intensified, Anthel was able to escape any serious harm. He only received a cut on the arm. The wound was fairly deep, but even though it healed almost instantly, the man still screamed and nearly dropped it. 

-11 Life Force.

For a moment, as the grave robber swung with real anger, the Ebon Blade thought he might have a chance, but that ended seconds later when the guard ran him through. Even a wound that nicked the heart would have been entirely survivable, of course, but the fool dropped it, and for once, the weapon didn’t force the issue. It was happy to be free of such a wretched old man, and it snatched up his soul and devoured it as soon as it left his body. There was nothing to be learned from him.

Almost immediately, the guard that had killed Anthel leaned down to pick up the blade, and it was looking forward to studying his soul for better options. Before that could happen, though, a command rang out. 

“No, don’t touch it,” Lord Gilles cried, looking at it with a strange intensity. “Marks like that in the company of orcs? It's clearly cursed. Fetch a pair of blacksmith’s tongs and put the thing in the chapel without touching it, then send for a priest to inspect it in the morning. If it’s an evil artifact, they’ll pay me to take it away, and if not, well, it will look good on my wall, I think…”

-4 Life Force.

The blade was horrified by those words. It had expected a selfish man, and perhaps even a cruel one, but not an intelligent one, and with its arrogance at its newfound power, it had fallen into a trap of its own making. 

Ch. 86 - Separated

The blade and its sheath were taken to the small palace’s even smaller chapel and set on the altar of that dark room. A priest came in shortly thereafter and said a few blessings against evil. The blade even used its Aether-sight on the man both during and after as he invoked the light of Ganara to protect them from evil and curses. The magic that the man used left a slight aura on the altar for hours, but that did not trouble the blade. 

-4 Life Force.

It knew from its interactions with Dero, though, that it was not evil, so whatever bindings they had against it did little good. Still, it found the patterns in that new magic interesting. It just wished it could snag the soul of a priest to investigate it further. Every time the blade killed one, their god snatched them away before it could harvest them, which frustrated it. 

Still, despite wards against evil and deities playing games, nothing happened to it for hours. It kept hoping that one of the guards would come in and pick it up. It didn’t even drain them for that reason, but that didn’t happen. Instead, it was left there to await its fate as the moon rose and set. 

The blade did not like this at all, and now it knew why its previous incarnation had prioritized the power of its drain over its range. If someone wanted to pick it up without touching it, it would be hard-pressed to stop them. It was like a turtle that had been left on its back. If the witch-hunters found it right now, it would have been helpless. 

-4 Life Force.

While it contemplated that fate and studied the statues and crude stained-glass windows of the room, someone finally entered the chapel through a side door. It wasn’t anyone he’d expected, though. He’d thought that perhaps the priest might check on it, or one of the guards might try to give it a swing or two, but it wasn’t any of those people who finally appeared. It was the Baron’s wife. 

For several seconds, the blade wondered what she was doing as she approached the blade. She almost touched it, too. Instead, she stopped just short and said, “I don’t know how you broke free of wherever they put you, but I know what you are. The Black Blade of Baraga. I’ve read about you in books.”

She looked like she was about to pick it up, but she hesitated again and continued. “They say that you can control the minds of those that wield you and that you drive them mad. Well, I don’t care if you drive me mad. I just want you to wait until I’ve had my revenge, alright? I don’t care what happens to me as long as I can kill him. If you can promise me that, I will help you escape before the Witchhunters come for you and lock you away again, alright?”

The Ebon Blade wasn’t sure what she wanted it to do. She did not look like a good wielder, but it would certainly agree to her terms if that was the price of its freedom. Hell, it would have agreed to them on the subject of revenge alone. It burned for revenge as much as it did for battle. 

-4 Life Force.

Still, it had no way to tell the woman it agreed. All it could do was lay there until the attractive redhead finally bent and grasped it by the handle. Then, its first words were not agreement but a question. If you know of me, then why doesn’t everyone else? 

“I… Incredible,” she breathed. “It really does talk. I’m sorry, where are my manners I’m Evelyn Gilles, formerly Evelyn Palaron, and—”

Would you please answer the question, the blade interrupted, trying not to be too forceful and scare her off. While it could control her if it needed to, It had already effectively agreed to help her with her revenge, so for at least as long as it took her to get upstairs and slaughter her husband, she would be its wielder. After that, they would see. 

Well, I was only being polite, she explained, trying to speak through her mind instead of her words for the first time. As to your question, it’s because people aren’t much in the habit of fearing stories that haven’t been seen in decades or centuries. I spent too much time in the libraries as a girl and read simply all the fables and…

She continued on for another minute of that, detailing the size and scale of her library at her old home. It sounded very impressive, but the blade didn’t care. It just wanted a strong arm to wield it against the challenges that lay ahead, and that clearly wasn’t going to be something this bookworm could provide it. Still, it took a moment while she was talking to examine her. 

Name: Evelyn Gilles

Occupation: Noble wife of royal blood

Toughness: 4+4

Strength: 3+14

Agility: 4+8

Speed: 4+4

Intelligence: 6

Willpower: 5 -1

Morality: Desperate

Bloodlust: Focused

Status: Normal

Martial Skill: None

Armor Proficiency: None

Dodging: Low

Athletics: Low

Goal: To get revenge on all those who’ve wronged me, no matter what I have to do.

It didn’t like how high her willpower was compared to its past wielders. That left it wondering how well she’d resist its control, but she seemed to have no interest in resisting, though, and as it peered into her mind it saw that all she wanted to do was murder people. It wasn’t a trick. She didn’t want to kill everyone the way it did, but there were a few very specific people that flashed through her mind that she wanted to hack into bloody pieces. 

We cannot linger, it said finally, stopping her endless torrent of words. We must do whatever you want and then make our escape. 

Don’t you need to steal my soul first or drive me insane or something? She asked.

When this is done, you can tell me your stories, and I will correct them. The blade promised. For now, let us focus on killing whoever you want to kill before more priests arrive and notice me gone. 

The woman didn’t argue against any of that and, instead, turned and made her exit the way she’d come in, which turned out to be the priest’s room. He was snoring soundly, and she crept slowly through his room before taking the stairs up to the third floor. There, apparently, there was a guard, too, because she didn’t walk down the hallway. Instead, she creeped out a large window and moved along a moonlit ledge to her bedroom. 

The blade thought all of this was a rather elaborate escape, but then it seemed like she’d done this before. Still, there was no hesitation. Her only comment was, I feel so much stronger now like I couldn’t fall if I tried. Then, she was back in her bedroom and closing the window while her husband slumbered. 

Evelyn drew the sword from its scabbard for almost a minute, and the blade was beginning to think she was having second thoughts. At least, it would have if it couldn’t read her mind or see the way she was smiling. Then she brought the weapon down hard, pinning him to the bed, but that wasn’t enough to kill him. Truthfully, it would have preferred she chose a more silent option, but this was her vengeance, and it was not about to rush her. 

He roared in pain as she drove the blade home without any hesitation. Given that the blade had just finished explaining how she could kill him quickly and quietly, she obviously wanted him to suffer, and honestly, the blade couldn’t blame her. 

It tried not to look into her mind because it had no interest in getting attached to her, but even so, her mind was flooded with imagery of the things he’d done to her. Spousal abuse was the least of it. It could see memories of at least one miscarriage caused by the man's violence, which only made the feeling of disemboweling him that much more pleasant. 

+38 Life Force.

“You bitch!” he bellowed. “What have you done?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” she spat, raising the ebon blade up so she could strike him again. 

Despite the life drain and the mortal wound, the man still managed to roll out of the way to the far side of the bed, leaving her to hack their marriage bed in two as Evelyn moved unrelentingly toward him. 

His scream brought the sound of mailed feet running down the hallway, and before she could reach her bleeding husband, two guards stormed into the room.  That didn’t slow her down either, though, and she flung a wide slash at all three of them, forcing them back with a series of parries that left sparks in her wake. 

“She’s gone crazy!” The Baron bellowed. “Twenty golden regals to the man that brings me her head!”

The blade’s appraisal of her went up a notch at that. It went up even further when her husband succeeded in stabbing her, but she barely flinched at that. Instead, she spat in his face and said, “I just wish I actually felt this much every time you were inside me,” before forcing him back with another slash.

-22 Life Force.

“If you spend your money so frivolously, then what will you have left for your whores?” the woman demanded as she traded blows with the guards that were protecting him. 

The guards seemed less than willing to strike her. Whether that was because she was a woman or because she was a Baroness, she couldn’t say. All that mattered was that their hesitation was lethal for them. It was an ugly, half-hearted scrum as the two sides traded blows. They wounded her several times, both shallowly and severely, but sword wounds were nothing for it after the fire, and apparently, the pain of being stabbed didn’t matter that much to her after years of marriage to Lord Gilles. 

-14 Life Force.

Lord Gilles rained insults down on her almost as much as she rained down blows on his guards, but in the end, only one of them was successful. She took the first one’s head off and then pinned the second one to the wall with enough strength to cut into the stone. Either was an impressive blow for a woman, but then, when she was wielding it, she was stronger than any man in the building and probably most of the men in the kingdom. 

Even a man with a typical rageblade could not hope to equal a goblin wielding the Ebon blade, and while she wasn’t that much stronger than its goblin wielder had been, she was taller, which made the whole thing much less awkward. 

The blade could have interjected at any moment to help her. Evelyn’s form was completely atrocious, and it was clear that she’d never wielded a sword in battle before, but right now, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was how badly she wanted this. That was some enthusiasm that the blade could get behind. 

-8 Life Force.

Despite how bloody her nightgown had gotten, Evelyn killed the two guards fairly quickly and looked practically well-composed compared to her husband, who was dying on the floor. If you want to be the one to end him, be quick, the blade cautioned her. Despite only being stabbed once, the man was about to bleed out and could only barely hold up his sword. 

+77 Life Force.
+2 Human Souls.

“Any last words?” she asked contemptuously.

“I never—” the man started to say, but she didn’t let him finish. She just buried her blade deep in his heart.

+31 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.

“I don’t care what you have to say,” she growled, twisting the blade before withdrawing it. “I haven’t for a long time.” 

When she removed the weapon, she cleaned it with scraps of her shredded nightgown. The blade thought that was interesting, but it was too busy focusing on the alert that said, 

Path of Vengeance: level 2, offering 1 of 2 completed. 

It was the least of its concerns right now, but it still liked to see the progress, along with the souls, as it consumed all three of them to bring its Life Force to nearly 2k. 

Well, I’m glad you were able to get such bloody vengeance on an awful man, the blade told her, noting that more people were coming somewhere below them. But we really should be on our way to finding me a proper wielder who can—

“What do you mean? That’s not who I want you to help me get my revenge on. I could have killed him any time, but I never would have made my escape,” she said, finally, standing over the bloody corpse of the man who had once been her husband. “It’s my father, the King. He put me in this awful place, and I want him to leave him and that awful golden throne of his in two.”

Ch. 87 - Everything is Connected

The Ebon blade was not stunned by her words or even their situation. Instead, it was stunned by the man that flickered across her mind's eye. Her father wasn’t just the King of the Inner Kingdoms. That would have been a surprising enough coincidence, but the man was the same man that haunted Baraga’s memories, which had to be impossible. From what it had gathered, centuries separated this moment from that one, so unless the man was elven…

Its thoughts were broken as its wielder tried to put it down. No! It raged. You cannot leave me behind when you make your escape! 

“I’m not leaving!” she hissed, trying to put the sword under the remains of the shattered bed. “I’m trying to hide you until this is over. Let go of me!”

You are my wielder! The blade insisted, At least for now! You cannot do this!

It became clear to Evelyn she wasn’t going to win this argument, so thinking fast, she got up and shattered the windows of her room with the sword and then moved to her husband’s gray-skinned corpse on the floor. Before she reached it, though. The sword stopped her in her tracks.

What are you doing?! It hissed. You must escape before they find us. If you will not, I will force you to do so!

“And what? Run through the woods barefoot while my husband’s soldiers give chase?” she shot back, irritated. “There will be time to run and fight later. For now, let me handle this!” 

Not quite sure what was happening, the blade released its grip on her body, but only because the sounds of the guards were very close. She used those last few seconds to dive for her husband’s body and cradle it, hiding the murder weapon under the dead man’s corpse before the door was forced open to reveal the scene of the crime. 

What is she thinking?! The blade wondered as he watched the scene of unfolding chaos. 

Half a dozen guards had their weapons drawn, and yet she sat there crying. What good are tears at a moment like this? It asked. 

Evelyn didn’t answer. Instead, she just held her husband's body and sobbed while she pointed to the window with her left hand. “He went that way!” she insisted, pointing to the shattered window.”

“Who did?” one of the guards asked, even as the rest ran back toward the stairs to search the courtyard beyond. 

“The man with the dark blade!” she sobbed. “He slew my husband and his guards, then the blackard vanished into the night!”

The man looked very uncomfortable. It was obvious he wanted to ask more questions, but she just wailed louder until he turned and fled. Instead, she stopped crying almost instantly and sat there stone-faced, ignoring the tears that streaked her cheeks. 

“We will leave, you see?” she explained calmly. “We will flee this wretched little burg and make our way to the capital, but not with everyone in hot pursuit of us. I've heard the stories about what you did with the orcs, but we must be subtle about this.”

Subtle? We must crack Altbarstein like an egg and— the blade insisted. 

“With what army?” she asked. “I heard what that weasel of a man that brought you here said. It’s been shattered and fed to the crows.”

The blade had to admit that she had a point, but it did not say that. Instead, for a moment, it pondered where it might find another army to rally around it, but the Inner Kingdoms were civilized lands without large monster populations, which meant it would need to draw on humans, and that would take time, money, or both. 

For a moment, it considered using Evelyn to flee the region entirely to find some new horde to wield, but it decided against that, too. Retreat when it was so close felt intolerable. Instead, it asked, What do you propose? 

“That we do this the subtle way,” she answered smoothly. “A single carriage can penetrate my father’s castle more easily than the largest army, so long as it is the right carriage.”

The blade had to admit that she had a point, and they discussed it until the priest came, which was when she switched to tears again. He tried to take the body from her, but for obvious reasons, she wouldn’t allow it. 

“Leave me to my grief!” she insisted. “Find the man who did this!”

That bought them a bit more time, but even after they removed the two dead guards and left her bloody and crying on the floor, the blade was hesitant to let go. You must trust me! She insisted. If you do not let me hide you, then they will be onto us in the hour, and there will be no way for us to have our revenge!

The blade was deeply torn. On one hand, it was never more vulnerable than it was when it lay alone and upheld, but on the other, the woman did make a good point. She was almost exactly the opposite of the wielder that it wanted, but at the same time, she seemed clever, and after gazing into her soul this whole time, the blade hadn’t found a hint of betrayal. 

She really was overjoyed to have slaughtered her husband, and no matter how little skill she had with a blade, she wanted nothing more than to strike down her father, who somehow seemed to be the man who was involved in its forging centuries before. 

Fine, it said at last, but if you attempt to betray me…

“There's a long list of people I’d love to betray, but you aren’t on it, and I’ll need your help to achieve my vengeance,” she whispered as she gingerly let go of the blade and found that, this time, she could actually do so. “We are bound together, you and I. Together, we will strike at the very heart of this awful place, even if it costs me my soul.”

After that, Evelyn moved quickly, sheathing and stashing the Ebon Blade behind a bookcase near her bed. A few minutes later, servants came to take away the body, as well as the shattered remnants of her bed. 

While they did that, Evelyn removed herself to allow her servants to dress her and re-bathe her. The blade waited nervously during this part, convinced it had made a terrible mistake in trusting her, but no one found it. No one even searched for it, proving that her analysis of the situation seemed to be far more accurate than its prediction had been. 

They were scrubbing the floors of the half-empty room when she finally returned, dressed in a black dress that it suspected would become ubiquitous going forward. At this point, the blade was losing a Life Force every fifteen minutes or so, which was about right, given how much it had grown in strength. It was not concerned about that, though, because it had well over 2000 Life Force. 

It simply offset that amount by sipping at the souls that passed by it in this room and the adjoining ones. It didn’t drink too deeply of any specific target, though, and it avoided the priest altogether because it did not wish for anyone to notice what it was doing. 

Primary Powers:

Aethersight 2: 800 Life Force
Aethershroud 2: 1000 Life Force
Increase Connection 5: 2500 Life Force
Accelerate Wielder 4: 3000 Life Force
Amplify Wielder 4: 3000 Life Force
Amplify Blade 4: 4000 Life Force
Disrupt 5: 5000 Life Force
Repair Soul 5: 5000 Life Force
Increase Control 5: 6000 Life Force
Empower Blade 4: 7500 Life Force
Bolt 5: 15000 Life Force

Secondary Powers: 

False Image 5: 4000 Life Force
Giant’s Strength 3: 800 Life Force
Speed of the Shadows 3: 1000 Life Force

Still, as it hid there, it spent half of its reserves on Aethershroud 2. Blowing too much energy on upgrades in this perilous circumstance was unwise, but not as unwise as continuing to radiate like a beacon. It didn’t know if mages could easily see through walls or furniture with their powers. 

It hadn’t been able to do that with Improved Senses 4, but if it used Aethersight, it could see almost everything, out to the edge of its Aura of Hunger, which included people walking around on the lower floors of the building. Their motions and interactions made the world churn and flow around them, but it didn’t care so much about those details. It was just happy that no ambushes lay in wait on the lower floors, and its glow had dimmed somewhat. It still glowed brighter than anything else in the building, but now it was only twice as bright as the priest’s aura. 

Eventually, Evelyn returned, and when her bed had been replaced by a new one, and she was alone, she retrieved the blade and tucked it under the pillows, then lay there, grasping its hilt lightly as she updated it. 

“Men have been sent out in every direction, searching for my husband’s killer,” she explained. “I told them that he was raving about the capital and—”

Why would you do that? The weapon demanded. Now, the way forward will be even more guarded!

“It will,” she agreed, “But that’s okay because we won’t be going that way. Not right away, anyway. After the funeral, we will bide our time and wait for the trail to go cold. Then we will move.”

The blade did not like that at all. It was not made to be hung on a wall, and it certainly wasn’t made to be hidden away. Moving deceptively was one thing, but being allowed to rust was quite another. The Ebon Blade was a predator, and it needed to move or die.

How long is the mourning period? It asked. 

“Forty days, starting tomorrow,” she answered. “Why?”

Because I am not willing to sit idle for a month or two, the blade stated. Evelyn opened her mouth to interrupt it then, but he stopped her and continued. What we will do instead is use that time to practice. You are not a fit wielder of my power, and that will need to be addressed if you are to hold me for any length of time. 

“I suppose that is doable,” she mused, not sounding pleased about it. “Why?” The blade could see that while she had no problem killing, the idea of training was unwelcome. That was too bad because she wasn’t going to have a choice. 

Because even if we stroll into the palace, there will be a fight in the throne room. I know not what the king’s defenses will be, but I expect they will be formidable, the blade explained. To that end, I require a wielder who is at least competent, if not talented, and right now, you are neither. 

“Can’t you just possess me?” the woman asked. “The stories say you can take control.”

I can, the blade agreed. With an unwilling wielder, it is a struggle, but with a willing wielder, I can do much.

“So?” she said. “I’m willing. I will do whatever I can to strike down my father!”

But we are stronger when both of us have strength to contribute, and right now you have strength of will, but your body is weak, the weapon answered. We will correct that. You will go into seclusion for the duration of your morning period, and we shall work together on making you the woman you need to be. 

“But my servants,” she complained. “How am I—”

You shall bring no servants, it explained. Someone can bring you supplies two or three times a fortnight. You won’t need more than that. 

“But without servants, how will I wear proper dresses?” she repeated, obviously confused. “I could never put this on by myself. It would take hours!”

Then you shall go without, the blade repeated. You asked for my strength, and I gave it to you. You asked for my trust, and you received it. Now, I ask for your focus, your discipline, and, if need be, your hardship. I will not let my chance for revenge slip through my fingers because, in the final moment, my wielder was not strong enough.