Ethlyn stared down at the blade being presented to her. “My father gave you this sword, to give to me?” She asked, confused.
“Yes, he claimed it wasn’t a holy weapon, yet could still only be wielded by one of holy blood. Since those with major crusader blood were able to wield their houses’ holy weapons, this weapon was passed down to those in your family with minor blood. Sigurd will inherit your father’s Tyrfing, and I’ll inherit Gae Bolg, so this weapon, Gracious Tears, will be passed down to you.” Quan explained to her.
Ethlyn took the sword and unsheathed it, playing a sharp ringing note as it slid out of its sheath. The blade was a striking blood red color. It felt flawless in her hands. Lightweight, with a perfect balance. Even aside from the craftsmanship, Ethlyn could feel a power emanating from it as soon as she unsheathed it.
“So powerful” she remarked, awestruck. She noticed something strange though. Holy weapons like her father’s Tyrfing, or Quan’s Gae Bolg, while expertly maintained, still showed signs of their age. Meanwhile, there was no wear to speak of at all on Gracious Tears. Almost as if it had seldom been used. She voiced this concern to Quan.
“Yes, that’s what your father warned me about. It’s known as a cursed tool. It grants the wielder strength enough to go toe to toe with even users of holy weapons. But only for a short time. After it’s been used, the sword takes a toll on the user.”
“A cursed tool?” Ethlyn ran her hand over the smooth blade, gazing at her reflection in it, taking note of the etching of flowers in the metal. “I’ve never heard of a weapon like this. What kind of toll does it take?”
“Your father said that it can vary depending on which crusader’s blood you bear, but that for Baldr’s descendents like you, it will temporarily take the user’s size as compensation for its power. So if you use it, it will shrink you, until it’s drained enough of your strength to replenish what it lost.”
Ethlyn looked up at Quan, surprised. “That’s all it takes?”
“I’m sorry?”
“For something so powerful, I would have expected it to take a far greater price. Perhaps years off of one’s lifespan, or-”
“Ethlyn, please take this seriously. This weapon could be extremely dangerous to you. Please promise me you’ll only use it when there’s absolutely no other choice.”
Ethlyn looked up from the blade at Quan. She then returned Gracious Tears to its sheath, and put it aside. “Don’t worry Quan, as long as I have you to protect me, I’m sure I’ll never need to use it.”
“Thank you. I’m sure once we help Sigurd rescue Aideen, we’ll return to Leonster and never have to think about using that sword.”
Ethlyn looked out across the battlefield of Agustria from the ramparts of Castle Nordion, fidgeting with the sword strapped across her back, hidden beneath her cape. Waves of enemy soldiers flooded in from Mackily. Sigurd had taken the majority of the army up to Anphony to quell the uprising. Not expecting an attack from behind, he had only left a skeleton crew behind to defend Evans and Nordion, leaving them nearly defenseless when a neighboring lord had suddenly taken up arms against them.
“Lady Ethlyn” Finn approached from behind. He too had been part of those left on defense, as he was tasked to guard Lachesis, the princess of Nordion. “You should come down. The enemy will be upon us soon.”
She took one last look at the massive force approaching them before deciding Finn was right. The enemy would be here soon, and they had to prepare for siege. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank you Finn.” The two of them headed down the stairs, nearing the main gate of the castle.
“The Cross Knights are preparing for battle, but it won’t be long before we’re overwhelmed. We’re considering abandoning Nordion and fleeing to Evans, but we don’t have long to decide.”
Ethlyn considered this option. Even with the use of her rescue staff, there was no way they would all be able to make it to Evans in time. And losing Nordion would split their forces, meaning Sigurd wouldn’t be able to make it back to them. No, they had to hold the castle.
“Finn, tell the Cross Knights to open the gates.” She told him.
“No, Lady Ethlyn, they can’t possibly take the entire army in a head on fight. Our only hope of holding Nordion is to hope Lord Sigurd can send reinforcements in time to assist.”
“No Finn. I can do this myself.” Ethlyn reached towards her back, where she had her cursed tool.
Judging from the look on his face, Quad had told Finn of the sword’s power, and also that Ethlyn wasn’t supposed to use it. But she also knew that Finn realized how dire their situation was. “Very well Lady Ethlyn, I’ll tell them to prepare for battle.”
“Thank you Finn.” She said as he turned away. “Just make sure you keep watch of me as the battle nears its end. I’ll need your help when this is all over.”
As she rode up to the battlefield to face the oncoming army, Ethlyn glanced behind her to see her small squad of soldiers behind her. Lachesis and her cross knights, Finn, and a handful of other soldiers who had been stationed, all stood by her flank, awaiting the oncoming battle.
The two armies continued to close the distance between each other, and Ethlyn reached onto her back, unsheathing Gracious Tears. She felt power surging from her blood into the blade as she called upon its power. She knew she had promised Quan she wouldn’t use it, but this was the only way they could win this battle. If her height was the price to pay for victory, then she would gladly accept it.
In her strong hand, Ethlyn held a Rose. And her aura burned bright.
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