Continued from here part 1
Outside the gates to the Marshal's outpost Vargas stands with a nearly empty bag as Victor steps up, "You seem to have done some business."
Vargas nodded, "Yea, you work these men too hard. Those normal blades do break easier than ours you know. Plus I managed to get a few coppers from the scrap yard for that crap I picked up at the bridge."
Victor shrugged, "I just got a report that might interest you. Apparently the Blood woods up and died. Whole damn forest just rotted away. You know anything about that?"
Vargas gritted his teeth before answering, "I know enough to leave it alone."
Victor sighed, "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you. Try not to make it so long till the next visit."
Vargas walked off giving a wave over his shoulder, "See ya around, Old Man."
***
A man named Harris sits by a tree cooking some lunch for himself when a cloaked man carrying something large wrapped in cloth on his back. Harris looked to the long scimitar leaning on the tree ready to fight if need be. The cloaked man pulled down his hood, "Mind if I sit by the fire for a moment, there's a chill in the wind today."
Harris gave a nod as the man sat and pulled out a canteen. After the man took a drink he looked to the scimitar, "That would be the Dragon's Tail?"
Harris tensed up a bit, "That's what they call it."
The cloaked man grinned a bit, "They say it is nearly as powerful as the Reaper's Arm, and its reputation is almost as bad."
Harris glared, "You got a name?"
"Call me Belial. I have been searching for the wielder of that blade."
Harris gripped the Dragon's Tail as Belial began unwrapping his cloth. His eyes went wide when the Reaper's Arm was revealed, "Calm yourself, if I'd wanted to kill you it would be done already. I wish to ask you to join me. They say the Reaper's Arm and the Angel's Wrath wield the power of Life and Death, if a man were to wield both he may as well be a god. I'm asking you to help me be that man."
***
As Vargas walked he noticed a bandit hanging upside down from a thorny vine wrapped around a tree branch. He looked up to the man, "It seems your day has gone poorly."
The bandit looked down, "I've had better."
Vargas chuckled, "Did you do anything to deserve it?"
He grunted a bit as he answered, "Occupational hazard."
"Perhaps you should find a new one."
Just then the bandit pulled a small knife from his pocket. He bent upward and grabbed the vine as the knife grew a bit larger. He cut the vine then aimed the blade down. It shot into the ground and held the hilt. As it shrunk he stepped down safely.
Vargas looked at the blade, "That's handy."
The bandit grinned, "It's called the Changeling."
"And what are you called?"
The bandit dropped the Changeling into his pocket, " Angus."
Vargas rested a hand on the hilt of the Wolf, "Perhaps the job of a guide would suit you better."
"If it pays, I'll do it. I've tried the bandit life, its not for me."
Vargas then looked back to the vine, "How did you end up in the tree?"
"My crew and I attempted to rob a woman wandering alone. She took it poorly, her daggers made those vines I was trapped in and of course my crew left me for dead. She was fast, didn't even have a chance to show my blade before she had me in the tree. I hit the trunk going up and was out for a while."
Vargas grinned, "Alana was her name. The daggers were the Rose and the Thorn. You and your crew are lucky to be breathing."
"So you've met?"
Vargas gave a nod, "Yea, I plan on marrying her, just as soon as she agrees to it."
Angus chuckled, "Have you asked?"
"Oh yes, dozens of times."
Angus shook his head, "You're an odd fellow."
***
The Capitol.
A man kneels down before an elderly priest in an ornate robe and large garish hat. He sighs under his breath as the old man drones on with a speech about tradition and history. He was a young Marshal named Gunnar. He was the new chosen barer of the Ax known as the Angel's Wrath. This was an unpopular decision among his superiors but since the blade burned all but one of its own choosing who try to hold it.
Gunnar had never intended to take it and had been content with his position. He had simply picked it up by accident one day and was now being forced to endure what he considered asinine pageantry. Finally the priest went silent as two men carried out a decorated plank of wood with the ax laying on it.
Gunnar took the ax and stood lifting it over his head as he smiled over gritted teeth.
***
Later Gunnar sat in his chambers when the High General Marcus of the Marshals entered. Gunnar sat reading a book with a cigar hanging from his lips. Marcus noted the Ax leaning by the wall. He dropped down in a chair beside Gunnar, "Magnus didn't want the damn thing either. Not sure he cared either way but he hated those priest always pestering him."
Gunnar nodded, "I was told his son refused to even touch it."
Marcus nodded, "My brother had a hard relationship with his sons, he did his best to make them strong but they hated him for it. I knew Victor would never take it, Big Bear suits him better, and Vargas, ahh who the hell knows what that boy would have done."
Gunnar laughed, "He wouldn't have made it through the ceremony without hitting the priest."
Marcus nodded.
(To be continued)
Log in to comment