Bloodstained Blade
Chapter 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…

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“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

Inferno 2: 1200 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.