The Great Sword of Lochac

And yea it came to pass on the 14th day of November a great tournament was held in the fair Barony of Innilgard. From all corners of the globe travellers came e'en though the way was treacherous and the path long to gather at the feet of their ruler.

And gather they did, fighter and consort, noble and peasant, rich man and poor. They knelt at the feet of the Prince, whose eyes sparked lightning, and their Princess whose glorious visage bathed their eyes as with the morning dew.

And the Prince spake, and his voice was that of thunder, and all who heard his words did tremble in awe. And yea did a humble workman, named Owen come forth before his Highness, bringing with him a most heavy load. He had carried on his back this great casket with its precious contents, all the way from St Florians de la Riviere, and his steps were weary and back bowed under the weight. He laid this coffer at the feet of the Prince.

The Prince lifted forth from this case a sword sheathed in stout leather and wood. As Owen spoke of the sword and all that it signified to Lochac, the Prince did raise the sword forth from its sheath and hold it aloft, that all might see its glory. And indeed, the populace did marvel greatly at its deadly beauty, seeing the words engraved upon the blade glowing as if from an inner light.

A respectful hush fell upon the crowd as His highness extolled the brilliance of the blade, and did say that it should lead Lochac into a new future, perhaps even as a Kingdom. Then the crowd lifted its voice in roar to acclaim Owen and his great work. His highness beckoned for silence, and oncemore the populace at his feet hushed to hear his wise words. Prince Alfar spoke of the great battles to take place that day, setting forth his desires for a noble days sport.

He bade his marshall and a noble knight speak to the combatants to explain the rules of the lists. Then raised he the sword on high and his voice rolled like the echoes of a thousand thousand troops charging from a distant hill. He spoke of the great prowess and strength that the combatants must have to win this immense prize; the Kingdom and this great sword. With a single stroke, he did drive the sword into the ground.

A great gasp was heard, like the earth was receiving its mortal wound from this mighty prince, and yea all looked about in fear that the earths vengeance was about to come down upon them, but nay, twas only the smith Owen fainting. And thus the tourney began. As fighters battled to bloody death for the glory and duty of the throne, the Prince and his beauteous Princess did watch keenly.

Indeed it must have made their hearts full sore to see such great and courageous fighters battle to the death. Indeed this writer was struck almost to tears to see her own brave consort Adam struck down to fight no more. As the day passed, and the death toll mounted, the goal to draw the sword seemed ever more unreachable. And indeed, further travails and hardships were placed before the potential lords of Lochac.

The earth itself rebelled against the ones who would have stolen the sword by sending forth billowing odours as if from the pits of hades against anyone who would stand nearby, in such force that even the righteous and worthy Prince and Princess did flee its odiferous onslaught. The hearts of those who had lost loved ones to this grand and deadly battle were heavy with sorrow.

But at last, one victor stood clear. The mighty Sir Kurgan strode forth from the conflict. His strong sword arm inspired by his most glorious lady Huraiwa had smote down his enemies and gained that most costly and peerless prize, the coronet of Lochac.

And yea as his hand drew the sword of Lochac from its earthy grave, no cry of sorrow from earth or man, but cries of "Vivat! Vivat! Hail Kurgan and Huraiwa, Lord and Lady of Lochac".

Kiriel du Papillon