Helene
I am the hungry shark.
A tiny snort of laughter penetrates her lips with the last line of his story. "That's quite a story! It must be true if the whole village came to see you!"
She looks over the impending road. She had never traveled this far without her family, "I have to admit," her words are quiet, "I'm quite nervous for the rest of this journey. I've heard so many terrifying things, seen so many of my people return to us battered and broken.." Slowly, she bends, reaching into her boot and removing a small blade, the hilt grabbed in a fine leather, the blade shining in the sunlight.
"This was my fathers. He brought it with him on his trips to the capitol. It belonged to his father before him, and his before that. It was wielded by a well-known blacksmith in the Square we're headed to." She hesitates, holding the blade in both palms now, her eyes wandering over the fine metal. "That man was a good family friend, but he was also involved with a group unknown to me. My father was vague about who they were, but from what I gathered, they were some sort of mercenary group with a vengeance. Something to do with the king.."
She stops herself there. The group the blacksmith belonged to had been dying one by one in the last year, all violently murdered, the kind of murders that sent a message. She had heard bits from her father before he disappeared. She had no doubt that these assassinations had something to do with the state of the capitol. But she didn't care to share anything else.
"Anyways, I show it to you because it's a well-known blade, the forgery and the inscription on the sheath mean something that I'm ignorant of. But if I must use it, it may bring more violence to use. I don't want you to suffer at the hands of my blade."
With that, she looks up to him, her face stern, tough. "Now, stay close, and let's go."
She looks over the impending road. She had never traveled this far without her family, "I have to admit," her words are quiet, "I'm quite nervous for the rest of this journey. I've heard so many terrifying things, seen so many of my people return to us battered and broken.." Slowly, she bends, reaching into her boot and removing a small blade, the hilt grabbed in a fine leather, the blade shining in the sunlight.
"This was my fathers. He brought it with him on his trips to the capitol. It belonged to his father before him, and his before that. It was wielded by a well-known blacksmith in the Square we're headed to." She hesitates, holding the blade in both palms now, her eyes wandering over the fine metal. "That man was a good family friend, but he was also involved with a group unknown to me. My father was vague about who they were, but from what I gathered, they were some sort of mercenary group with a vengeance. Something to do with the king.."
She stops herself there. The group the blacksmith belonged to had been dying one by one in the last year, all violently murdered, the kind of murders that sent a message. She had heard bits from her father before he disappeared. She had no doubt that these assassinations had something to do with the state of the capitol. But she didn't care to share anything else.
"Anyways, I show it to you because it's a well-known blade, the forgery and the inscription on the sheath mean something that I'm ignorant of. But if I must use it, it may bring more violence to use. I don't want you to suffer at the hands of my blade."
With that, she looks up to him, her face stern, tough. "Now, stay close, and let's go."