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The Blood-Stained Blade Ch. 91-94
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 14:00:09 +0000 UTCCh. 91 - Toughening Up
For the next two weeks, the blade ran its wielder into the ground. The fact that Evelyn was a Baroness or even a Princess didnât matter to it. All that mattered was making her into the wielder she needed to be. By night, this meant whispering dark, terrible thoughts into her vulnerable mind about the things that she would need to do to achieve her revenge.
The only distraction there was her dreams, which sometimes sidetracked the weapon as it studied them. It learned a number of things about her that way. It learned that she was terrified of drowning because of a near miss in a pond as a child, that she feared the dark because of the way her brothers used to torment her, and most importantly, that she had a crush on it.
Oh, not the Ebon Blade of reality, but the one from her picture books. She eventually showed it those after they finished exercising one night. It had expected to find a copy of the thin black tome it had seen in the minds of other men, but she showed it a care-worn version of the same thing, made for children. The fact that it had beautiful illustrations spoke to her wealth, as did the fact that she wasnât impressed by any of them. She flipped right past The Witch in the Marshlands and The Giant Called Juggernaut, along with a number of other interesting stories before she reached its tale, The Wickedest Blade.
The title amused the Ebon Blade, but the strange version of events was even funnier. It had not thought it would be able to enjoy any retelling of its tormented origins, but the farcical nature of this version made it palatable.
It told the story of a devilish rogue who came from another world. Baraga was a brave and daring dragon slayer, but rather than being promised the princessâs hand, he seduced her and turned her against her father and her kingdom.
The King offered him exile, of course, for in this version he was wise and just, but Baraga spat on his generosity. âIf you spare me, I will return and your lovely daughter will join my harem!â the rogue insisted. This was enough to ensure his execution. According to the book, it wasnât powerful enchantments that fueled it, but a death curse that its first wielder uttered.
After that, it detailed all the different ways that it returned to torment the Inner Kingdoms time and again over the years, but that part of the story matched its wielderâs, and it had no memories to say for sure one way or the other. It might one day get those days back as it continued to repair its soul, but it was impossible to say.
The most interesting part, though, wasnât listening to her discuss the false version of its origins, but watching her reaction to the truth. Evelyn wasnât surprised by it, but she was saddened. âThat sounds like my father,â she admitted.
She was disappointed by the fact that there wasnât some handsome, reckless warrior trapped in the sword and waiting for her to find a way to set him free. It didnât quite explain to her that it was powered by an amalgamation of a dozen souls, but that was because it didnât wish to share more of itself than it had to, and not to spare her feelings; Ivarrâs betrayal was too fresh for real honesty, and she seemed much less likely to keep a secret than its previous wielders.
Slowly changing her mind, though, regardless of her preconceptions, was the easy part. It was the days that were much harder.
It worked her to the bone, every day, and only its magic let her recover enough to keep going. She ran laps around the uninhabited portion of the lake, lifted heavy stones, and danced her way through its blade working exercises, while the whole time, its standards for what counted as an acceptable performance steadily rose.
Both her endurance and strength improved noticeably, even if it was set aside. She still couldnât chop firewood worth a damn, but that was down to technique. She could swing the axe for over an hour now without issue.
+74 Life Force
As the days passed, she complained less, but only because she learned that it didnât care about her whining. If anything, her regret and despair at her current situation rose, but not so much that she would give up in her quest to slay her father. If anything, its story about its creation had increased her resolve. Evelyn might not get the strange, happy ending that sheâd been dreaming of, but she was outraged that such an ending had been denied to her own older sister so long ago.
Out of curiosity, the blade asked her what happened to that princess on one occasion, but she didnât know. âPrincess Roselli? I have so many sisters. It's impossible to keep track of all of them,â she confessed. âShe almost certainly married someone important and gave me dozens of grandnieces and nephews. Iâm sure we could look that up sometime if you like.â
That wonât be necessary, the blade told her. I was simply curious. I want to know my own story almost as badly as I want to kill your father.
Conversations like that happened several times a day as the two of them solidified their understanding of each other. After a few days, she could slice through a felled log in a single stroke every time. The slices werenât as thin or as straight as they should be, but learning not to be afraid of the impact was half the battle.
The only time she received a break from her labors was when her servants would come every few days to check on her or bring her news.
Sometimes that necessitated awkward stories and leaving it in the foliage at the treeline while she buried back to the house, but it didnât care if the help thought she was having a dalliance with some man. It only cared that its existence was not discovered.
âPeople will talk!â she insisted as she came to retrieve it from where she'd left it in the forest the second time. âFirst, I emerge from the foliage sweaty and tired, then I ask them to bring twice as much food as before, while dressed like this, theyâll think Iâve taken a lover! There will be a scandal!â
Let them talk, it replied. Its wielder was about to retort when it talked over her. What do you think theyâll say when youâve killed your father?
âI expect that many will rejoice to be free of his tyranny, but some will call me a murderer,â she answered after a momentâs reflection. âI dare say they willââ
They will do and say nothing as long as you control the golden throne and the black blade, the Ebon Blade answered. People are cowards, and thatâs doubly true of those who have something to lose.
âYouâre implying Iâd rule after him,â she said quickly. âI have no such intentions.â
If you donât, then who will? It asked, curious about her answer.
âI donât know. My older brother Rodrick? My grand uncle Berin?â she sighed. âDoes it matter? You could rule the Inner Kingdoms for all I care. I just donât want him to do it anymore.â
That seems like a poor reason for a vendetta, the blade answered, as they slowly walked back to the log theyâd been practicing on before they were interrupted. He lived too long and forced you into a marriage with a man whoâ
âMy husband was a monster, not a man,â she roared, bringing the blade down hard and cleaving off two inches of stump. âAs to living too long, well, heâd lived five times longer than he should, and brought ruin to the whole kingdom!â
It doesnât feel like ruin to me, the blade mused. It was just egging her on at this point.
It was poking her mind both to study the feelings that flooded out with the tide of anger, and to. It could see many ways these things could be improved, but it didnât really care about ruling a kingdom. Time spent doing such things would be time that it didnât get to spend killing.
Between their rare interruptions, its wielder spent two weeks becoming something approaching a proper squire before the blade decided it was time to fight the goblins. Evelyn did not like this idea either.
+34 Life Force
âWhy must we fight such gross creatures?â she asked, as they stalked through the woods in the dead of night, âIâll never get their blood out of my trousers!â
If youâd prefer, we could go slaughter a tavern full of men, or perhaps a village ofâ the blade suggested unhelpfully. It never would have suspected it would find joy in teasing one of its wielders, but it liked watching someone as confident as its current wielder squirm.
âIâd rather not, thanks,â she answered quickly. Sheâd already learned that she couldnât tell it no, and tried to be more diplomatic. That was fine. The blade knew that she wouldnât cooperate in killing innocents yet, and strangely, it admired her for that, just a little bit. Still, it had no doubt that they could find some brigands or something for her to test her mettle on if they ran out of monsters.
Tonight, though, that didnât seem likely; they found three goblins before she even reached the lair, and there wasnât nearly enough light for her to go inside. Still, going inside wasnât the point. The first one scared her enough to scream out loud, and over the next few minutes, that drew out a dozen more of the little bastards.
To her credit, though, she only flinched at that first one. The blade had warned her that it would only act to protect her from unseen threats like arrows earlier in the event. Every claw or blade that cuts you is your own fault, it explained, and it was clear that she took that to heart.
+39 Life Force.
+2 Lesser Monster Souls.
At first, she fought very defensively, not so differently from the way she had in her only real fight in her husband and his guards, but once she conquered her fear and began to move as sheâd been practicing, sheâd improved greatly. Blocking wasnât really an important part of the battle, but even after almost two dozen had boiled into the clearing to feast on their screaming victim, she dispatched all of them, one stroke at a time.
+301 Life Force.
+14 Lesser Monster Souls.
And, for the first time, the blade was forced to admit that she was beautiful when she did it. Not her body, but the way that she moved. Ren fought like a coward, Kell fought like a squire, Ivar fought like a warrior, and Varâgar fought like an animal, but Evelynâs motions were entirely different. They had a grace to them, and even if her strokes werenât quite as efficient as they could have been, they were striking, and each time it tasted goblin flesh and blood, it found itself satisfied.
+163 Life Force.
+9 Lesser Monster Souls.
Ch. 92 - Unexpected Visitors
The night, she bathed naked in the lake by moonlight, and for once, she complained about something besides how cold the water was as she scrubbed her garments with caustic soap and tried to remove the green blood splatters. She was mostly successful, too.
While she did that, the weapon lay on the shore, where it would stay dry. However, as soon as she was done, she grabbed it before running inside, to the hunting lodge, and the fire she already had burning in the hearth. There, wrapped only in a blanket, she roasted sausages on a skewer while the Ebon blade lectured its wielder on her performance that night.
Its feedback was largely critical, but it offered her some praise, too. While you lost the element of surprise with your squeak, you showed no cowardice after that, and for that, I commend you.
âWell, didnât that send them all running for me, just like you wanted?â she asked, not looking away from the fire.
While that is true in this case, you hardly did it to draw them. It countered, and in another battle, it will be, at the minimum, a very painful mistake.
Realistically, it had enough energy to save her from almost any mistake. As it was, because of how slowly it was gaining Life Force here, it was only back to just over two thousand Life Force, which was enough for the next level of Aethershroud, but for now, it resisted the urge to spend it. It wanted more reserves than that, and until it found a good target to unleash its squeamish wielder on, it wasnât likely to regain what it lost very quickly.
Thatâs all the more reason for you to fight well, it thought to itself while its wielder prattled on.
âBut youâll save me, right?â she asked with a smile after she finally took the first bite of her dinner.
I would prefer you learn to save yourself, the blade admonished her, but yes, I will save you from your worst errors when I am able. Still, even my healing only goes so far. Remember, even my healing won't save you from every scar, so it is best to sneak up on opponents, especially wizards, when you can.
Cautions that appealed to her vanity tended to land better than those that threatened pain. Evelyn had very little fear about being hurt at this point, and in the battle with the goblins, sheâd been more concerned about her outfit than her flesh.
The two of them continued to train for a week, and theyâd used up roughly half of her planned mourning time when an unexpected guest arrived at her door one morning when she was chopping wood out back. The blade warned her, A horse approaches on the main road.
That gave her plenty of time to rush into the house, but not enough time to change into something more appropriate, like a dress. So, when she answered, all she had time to do was toss the sheathed blade under some cushions on the couch, and throw on a robe to cover the underthings sheâd been wearing.
The blade had no idea who was approaching, and without being worn by its wielder, it couldnât read her mind. Nonetheless, when she opened the door, it saw her stiffen and knew instantly how surprised she was.
âDerek,â she squeaked, before clearing her throat. âYou⌠What are you doing here?â
âIsnât that obvious?â he asked, âI just heard about the death of your husband. Dreadful stuff. I knew where youâd be though, straight away.â
The blade noted that he didnât sound at all sad about it. It also noticed that as he tried to force his way in, Evelyn almost succeeded in holding the door closed, which was a good sign, but still, its hackles were raised almost instantly. This man clearly meant no good, and it was separated from its wielder. This was one of the reasons it was hesitant to let her set it down so readily as she insisted on.
âDerek, you canât be here,â she repeated more firmly this time. âIâm a widow in mourning and youââ
âAnd I of all people know what bullshit that is,â he said with a smile, âThough i very much doubt you need any cheering up, I thought you could use some company.â
âYou had your chance,â she sighed. âWe both did. Thatâs over now.â
âWhy? It doesnât have to be,â he asked, moving to stand just a little too close to her. âYouâre a free woman now. Weâd have to keep things quiet, of course, but in a couple of months, or perhaps a yearââ
Derek had crowded his wielder until she was practically pinned to the wall of the entryway, and seemed to be doing everything she could to make sure he knew how uncomfortable he was making her. Still, as he moved to try to kiss its wielder, she slapped him hard enough to turn his head.
âFeisty as ever, I see,â he said with a smile.
âYou had your chance,â she said. âWe both did. You left me to my fate, and now youâve come sniffing around now that Iâm a wealthy widow andââ
âWell, not just because youâre wealthy or just a widow,â he agreed. âYouâre also shockingly lovely, and if we could just get you out of these clothesâŚâ
Evelyn moved to duck past him, but he responded by picking her up and throwing her over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She resisted as best she could, but her estranged lover was a head taller than her and twice her weight, so there was little she could do.
âDonât be like that,â he cooed, as he held the struggling woman. âWeâll go up to your bedroom, kiss and make up, and then we can do what we should have done all those years ago and⌠Aaaghh, you bitch!â
He dropped her as he shouted that, but the blade couldnât quite see what had happened. It wasnât until she started crawling toward it, and Derek turned and kicked her in the ribs to send her sprawling, that it saw the hairpin sticking out of the manâs kidney.
âYou should be grateful I came back for you at all,â he growled as he pulled the bloody hairpin free. âOld as you are, and childless? What kind of man wants a woman whoâs nearly thirty?â
He kicked her again, enraging the blade, but it was helpless. All it could do was watch as she spat blood and started crawling toward its hiding place again.
âWhen we heard about your current situation, my friends wanted to come here and loot the place,â he spat, obviously angry at the way things were turning out. âAfter theyâd finished taking turns with you, they would have probably put you up for ransom, but I told them we could do things the easy way! I told them⌠whatâs that youâve got there?â
As she pulled the scabbard free from its hiding place, Derek seized it. He tried to rip it from her hands, but all he did was pull her along with it while the blade salivated about what was to come.
-8 Life Force.
What followed wasnât even really a fight. They wrestled briefly for the scabbard, but as soon as Evelyn put her hand on the hilt, she was instantly three times as strong as the man and threw him to the ground with a casual push before drawing it from its sheathe and tossing it aside to menace him with the weapon in both her hands.
While she did that, though, the blade for the moment ignored her and her hapless opponent and searched her mind. It found about what it had expected to. The two of them had a torrid romance that had never quite managed to blossom into an affair. What followed had been a desperate plan to flee beyond the reach of her husband, but Derek had gotten cold feet, and sheâd never forgiven him.
It could feel her anger throbbing there, and it resonated with it entirely. Knowing what her husband did to her and fleeing to leave her to her fate was undoubtedly a betrayal. It was looking forward to ripping his soul to shreds to find out more about those friends heâd mentioned.
âBut how?â he gasped, as he reached for his dirk. He never drew it.
Evelyn lunged forward using the full length of the blade to embed the last eight inches deep inside her one-time lover. He stiffened at that, looking down in shock. âWhy?â were his last words. He died not comprehending anything at all, which was appropriate given how boorish he was.
+28 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.
Path of Vengeance: level 2, offering 2 of 2 completed. Level 2 complete!
You have slain those who have wronged your wielder, but still found satisfaction in the moment, even if it brought you no closer to peace. Now you must reach further to really understand the way that lives are linked.
You must strike down 100 people whom someone who wronged someone deeply enough for it to taint their soul. This is not to make the world a better place, but to understand the way that anger propagates as easily as sound or magic.
The Path of Vengeance: Level 3 -> kill a hundred people that have committed significant wrongs to reach level 4 Powers:
Detect Grudge (enhanced): When you cross blades with an opponent or wound them, you can gain a glimpse of their deeds, for good or ill, without needing to consume their soul or spending Life Force.
Claiming a Debt: If you strike down an enemy that someone else has a major grudge against them, they owe you a debt that you can collect in the form of a favor. That favor can be anything that is within their power to grant.
The information about the new level flashed across its vision, but the Ebon Blade dismissed it. It didnât care about powers right now. It was far more interested in how its wielder would handle this situation.
âDamn it,â Evelyn said, still smiling. âThis is going to be awful to clean. I should have done this outside.â
The blade said nothing while it gave her the strength to carry the body into the woods, and dumped it at the entrance to the goblinâs den. It also stayed silent while she cleaned up the blood in the lodge, though it did note she didnât complain about the former at all.
Instead, while she worked, it spent that time querying the manâs soul to learn more about his disreputable friends. As much as it appreciated his willingness to die to increase its Path of Vengeance to level 3, feeling his liver freeze solid beneath its dread touch, it was his knowledge of the local ruffians that was much more valuable.
The manâs soul told it everything he knew before it evaporated. It told the Ebon Blade where the worst of them liked to hang out, who was the toughest, and exactly what sort of crimes they most enjoyed committing. Most of them were the petty sort, guilty of little more than pickpocketing and cheating at dice. There were a few cutthroats that hung out with them, though, and men who moonlighted as highwaymen.
It was only when she was done with both of those things, and was ready to start her day in earnest, that it told her the plan. Weâre going to take it easy today. Derek had a whole ratâs nest of friends nearby, and I think theyâll be an excellent challenge for you.
While it felt her conscience recoil at the idea of killing, the mere words, âDerekâs friendsâ, eliminated that turmoil almost instantly. The blade had been prepared to tell her all about their crimes, but it didnât need to. Instead, she just flashed a bloodthirsty smile and said, âFinally, some training I can enjoy.â
Ch. 93 - Real Violence
The Ebon Blade took it easy on its wielder that day, letting her rest and recuperate for days. She spent the day basking in the sun, eating fruit, and drinking wine to celebrate the death of the man sheâd just killed, as blathered on about his misdeeds.
The weapon ignored her and lay quietly in the sun, reflecting on the path of vengeance. It had started by focusing on the bladeâs own need for vengeance, but the scope continued to widen. First, it had required it to help its wielder with her grudges. That made sense, but why would vengeance require it to understand or satisfy anyone elseâs need for vengeance? What did that have to do with it?
The blade didnât care for it. It made more sense when the magic that powered its Path of Blood had required it to taste every flavor of blood to understand the differences between them, but it much preferred wanton slaughter to the idea that it would be forced to act like some kind of hero. Pieces of its soul belonged to heroes, but it was a weapon, and its role was merely to kill.
+18 Life Force.
It grappled with those thoughts the whole day, offering only occasional responses to its wielder as she focused on her own frivolities. After a while, she stopped basking in the death of her latest victim, or even worrying that someone might find the body, or come looking for him, and eventually focused on what she should wear for the nightâs festivities.
That was too much for the blade. None of its wielders had ever once considered what they might wear, and how it would look on them when it came time to kill. Focus on what allows you to move smoothly, it chided her, and not on how it will make you look.
âAppearances are important,â she insisted. âDoubly so in this case! What if someone were to recognize me?â
The easiest answer would be to kill everyone who sees your face, the blade suggested. No one can tell anyone they saw you there if theyâre dead.
For a second, that argument reminded it of the necromancer it had slain not so long ago. As she considered her wardrobe, it considered the souls it had access to, wondering if any of them might distract it from the ridiculousness. It still had the souls of its wielders that it was loath to devour, but other than that, it had only the mages, and it was saving them for its assault on the capital, or anything that might come up along the way.
Eventually, Evelyn chose to put her hair up in a tight ponytail and wear a dark leather riding outfit combined with a gray cloak. It wasnât armor, but in the right light, it might look like it, and the cloak did as good a job of disguising her as it did hiding the blade sheâd slung over her back.
Then, just after sunset, they set out on the horse of her now-dead lover to wreak some havoc. This part, the blade enjoyed. Weeks without killing had begun to wear on it, and though it didnât actually dream, it spent most nights reflecting on the glorious battlefields that it had been a part of recently. It longed for them. It longed for even a tenth of that death and danger.
+11 Life Force.
While tonightâs fighting wouldnât be even a tenth of a tenth, it would be better than nothing. There were only ten or twelve people on its mental checklist of scum that deserved death, but the common house the men and their flunkies frequented was popular enough, and judging by the memories it had seen, most nights there would be thirty or forty people there, which would be a feast that the blade hadnât known in nearly a month.
Though it would be enough to rebuild its reserves or give it the next upgrade it craved, it might not be both, so the blade tried to decide which of the two was more important, before settling on the upgrade.
If we journey to the capital next, then hiding will be of paramount importance, it decided. All of its wielderâs attempts to camouflage it would be for naught if it still glowed like a beacon everywhere it went.
Still, no one was looking for it now, and as they approached the place, nearly an hourâs ride from where its wielder lay her head, they found no one troubled them.
When they arrived, it took in the place. It was a large, two-story, timbered affair with a thatched roof and smoke coming from three of its four chimneys. Though it could not smell anything, it was certain from the sounds leaking out through open windows that tonightâs drinking was well under way.
Before they went inside, she handed off the horse to the stable boy, then, at the bladeâs suggestion, she went around back and moved a hay-filled wagon to block the back door.
These men are cowards, it cautioned her. Dangerous cowards, but cowards just the same. The moment you strike the first one down, half of them will try to flee.
Evelyn didnât doubt the bladeâs word. Instead, she was strangely untalkative, as fear and excitement twisted in her soul. Weeks ago, she would have almost certainly tried to weasel out of this and explain why this wasnât a good idea. Now she strode toward the door past wondering eyes, and walked inside like she owned the place, thanks to the murderous ideas it whispered to her nearly every night.
+9 Life Force.
When she strode into the tavern, most of the eyes were drawn to her, but the first thing that the Ebon Blade noticed was not the silence that rippled out around her, but just how few women were in the place. While the men seemed to be a roughly equal mix of local farmers and ruffians, the only women that it could see wore the aprons of serving girls.
That will simplify things, the blade thought to itself as it looked out on the situation. However, that assessment was incorrect. What really simplified the situation was what happened next.
âNice tits. What's your name, girl?â the man said, standing up to bar her way. âThe place is good on wenches, but if youâre looking to do some whorinâ, we might, could fit you in.â
Evelyn regarded the man coolly. He was at least a head taller than her, and judging by his belly, he was more than twice her weight. Even putting his attitude aside, though he was one of the rougher customers in this place.
According to Derek, this man, Jakson, has done some truly awful things to women. The blade whispered. Heâs broken up marriages, and even forcedâŚ
It didnât even get the chance to explain before Evelyn tossed back her cloak and drew the blade. She barely listened to it. Instead, sheâd decided to kill him just for the way that he ogled her. That amused the blade, but not enough to distract it from the exquisite feeling of being unsheathed and used to split the ugly brute in two.
+34 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.
Her flourish went wide enough that its tip cut part way through the rafter above them before descending like a hammer and cutting him in half from his left shoulder to his right pelvis. The motion was so quick that he barely had time to gawk in disbelief that this was even happening before she struck, and he fell into two bloody pieces.
The blade had time to see the stains on the manâs soul as she struck him dead. It decided, almost instantly, that the only thing he was truly undeserving of was the swift death sheâd given him.
After that, everything exploded into chaos. Everyone was on their feet, and true to the bladeâs prediction, half of the men bolted while the other half drew their blades.
What was when the fight started in earnest. There were a few scattered calls from some of the men to try to figure out what was going on. âWho is this bitch!â one man yelled out, just before Evelyn ran him through.
+36 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.
âWhat did I ever do to you?â another man asked as he lay dying from a half-frozen wound in his belly.
Its wielderâs strokes were neat and precise. While not always optimal, they showed much more awareness than sheâd used when fighting goblins in the dark. Whether that was because she could see now or because she wasnât half as afraid of men as she was of monsters, it wasnât sure.
+118 Life Force.
+5 Human Souls.
As a woman with a normal sword, she might have managed to just barely hold her own at this point. However, with its power, she chopped through tables and tavern goers with equal ease as she carved a bloody swath through the place.
+221 Life Force.
+9 Human Souls.
Her rampage, swift and brutal as it was, was not without complications. She was injured repeatedly, usually from behind. One with a crossbow bolt to her left kidney, and several times with a dagger buried deep in her back. The blade could have prevented these, but it chose to let them happen; she would never learn to increase her awareness without painful lessons in this regard.
-17 Life Force
+139 Life Force.
+5 Human Souls.
It only intervened at those moments when she considered sparing her opponents. Several times, a wounded man, or even someone who claimed not to be a part of any of this, begged her for mercy. âPlease!â theyâd whimper. âIâve done nothing to you!â
Then, her hand would falter, considering their words as mercy grew amidst her growing garden of bloodlust like a weed. Then, the blade forced the issue and ended them with a single stroke.
-6 Life Force
+166 Life Force.
+6 Human Souls.
As it did so, it would glimpse their deeds, and whenever possible, it would whisper those into its wielderâs ear. This oneâs a traitor, it would tell her. That one slept with his brother's wife. This one put sawdust in bread he baked for his village.
None of them were lies, and as much as it found it distasteful to peek into its opponent's sordid, petty lives, it did enjoy watching its wielderâs heart harden one villainy at a time.
Stranger, though, were the glimpses its grudges were giving it of those who its victims had wronged. The blade understood it had a power to collect on other peopleâs grudges, but somehow
By the time sheâd finished clearing out the common room and ascended up the stairs to the rooms above to continue her rampage, only the two blood-spattered bar maids were still breathing. The blade spared them, but only because it saw no need to fight with its wielder and ruin the evening over the petty matter of 300 Life Force.
Instead, it basked in her growing enjoyment and the tides of energy rising up below them from the blood and death that soaked the place as the Ebon Bladeâs wielder went methodically from room to room on the second floor, hacking anyone who hadnât managed to throw themselves from a window to pieces.
There wasnât nearly as much actual fighting in this second slaughter, but the blade still enjoyed it almost as much, despite tasing only flesh and bone instead of the steel of its enemies. By the time the two of them rode back less than two hours after theyâd arrived, Evelynâs outfit had been ruined by the violence.
+311 Life Force.
+11 Human Souls.
She would have to burn it all if she wanted to keep her adventure a secret from her maids. Despite that damage, though, there was no horror in her eyes. Instead, a thin smile played across her lips. It didnât need to read her mind to know how much she had enjoyed herself.
It had enjoyed itself too. Between the energy it had started with, the amount it had drained from the living and the dead, and the number of souls it had consumed, it had 5,794 Life Force, which made spending 4,000 of it on Aethershroud 4 a no-brainer. It had no idea when it would be able to afford level 5, which would hide it completely.
Still, even now, when it looked at itself beneath its now heavy cloak, it saw a blazing beacon. It looked like no more than a common hexblade might. For now, that would be enough.
Ch. 94 - A New Woman
After that night, Evelyn was a changed woman. She was still flighty, superficial, and far too chatty for the bladeâs taste, but when the time came to unsheathe it and get to work, she was also more focused and complained far less often. She had to, every day now, was like a countdown to what they both wanted, and she, more than it knew how hard that would be.
The Ebon Blade could see it in her mind. It could glimpse the throne room shed seen so often as a girl, and the war golems that protected the king in their shining plate armor. Those were the obvious defenses. Neither of them knew what else awaited them. They wouldnât until they were close enough for the blade to interrogate the souls of the palace guard and gain further insights.
It even consumed one of its remaining mage souls for insight, but the man had little to offer it. He knew that Altbearstein Castle had layers of defenses that interlaced the physical and the magical. He had even looked at the structure with Aethersight more than once in his ancient life, letting the blade glimpse what it looked like as it glowed with power.
While, according to his soul, the sight wasnât as impressive as the Hall of Ages or the tower of Heavenâs Reach, it was still far too complex for the blade to even begin to guess at the flows. It was not a mage. Still, at least its own light would not be out of place in a structure with such powerful flows.
It was enough for it to be certain that the challenge would be almost as great as the danger. After all, by all accounts, it had tried this same thing more than once, and
It and Evelyn discussed this topic more than any other as the days slowly ticked down. When her mourning period was over, sheâd return to Sevrin, the capital of the Inner Kingdoms. Ostensibly, sheâd do this to petition him to find her a new partner because she did not wish to grow old as a widow in a lonely backwater. It made a fine cover story for what amounted to an assassination.
Assassination. The very word injured its pride.
It was not a weapon made for stabbing anyone in the back. Still, a direct, frontal assault wouldnât work. It could see that as it learned more about the city. Even if it had Varâgar and the orcâs entire war band at full strength, it would have been a difficult nut to crack. Too many mages in one spot could defeat almost any number of warriors. That was the only argument it could think of that justified its deceptive tactics.
However, none of that lessened the work that remained to be done. They still had weeks to go, and except for a few interruptions, the Ebon Blade worked its wielder harder than ever.
+22 Life Force.
The only serious interruption was a few days after their bloodbath at the crossroads tavern. When her servants came with fresh supplies, they brought along armed men; for a moment, the blade worried sheâd been betrayed, but instead, theyâd planned to leave her with guards, which would have ruined everything.
Evelyn refused them, of course. It listened to the entire conversation, for where sheâd hidden it in the woodpile by the side door.
âBut my lady!â her handmaiden pleaded, quite beside herself. âYou donât understand. Men were murdered, only a few miles from here! Itâs not safe!â
âPerhaps it would be better if I were dead,â she said melodramatically.
âMy men would never dream of trying anything, Baroness,â the guard captain answered. âWe can camp out in the shed if you prefer. You wonât even know weâre here.â
âThank you,â she nodded, âBut even so. Iâm here to mourn my husband, and will allow no man to come between me and that sacred duty. If they must stay, then let them guard the road from the nearest village. That is as much as I will allow.â
Eventually, with the Ebon bladeâs help, a compromise along those lines was reached, but the weapon didnât care about the details, only how it was accomplished. Part way through the argument, it had realized that the man had borne a grudge against one of the men theyâd slaughtered so recently, a gambler named Finn who had cheated the captain on more than one occasion.
The blade didnât really understand why it would have a connection to anyone outside its wielder, but the threads of fate that wove through the Path of Vengeance somehow tied the two of them together, and the blade twisted them. Do as the woman says. Leave her in peace. She will be safe without you.
Once it made the command the thread unraveled, and the situation was quickly resolved, even if everyone seemed confused by its resolution. After that, they finally got back to work, and the following day, thatâs just what they did. Evelyn no longer complained about the food, the outfits, or even the fatigue. Instead, she exercised so much and so fervently that slowly, her entire appearance began to shift.
When sheâd first held it, sheâd been a soft, weak woman. Now she was lean, and her muscles had visible definition to them. The blade was concerned enough about that to bring it up to her. You ladies in waiting will notice the change when you return, it cautioned.
âIf they do, theyâll think Iâve been starving myself, which isnât so far from the truth,â she agreed.
Still, none of that stopped her from exercising. After another week, they assaulted the goblin cave for the second time. This time, they went all the way to the center of the burrow, and while she couldnât see, she trusted the blade implicitly by this point, and it guided her through the narrow tunnels until they reached the bonfire-lit cavern at the heart of the thing.
In fact, by the time they were done, there wasnât a monster worth slaying in ten miles. Sheâd killed everything worth killing and gotten her coordination and balance honed to such a degree that when she danced through its forms at the waterâs edge, the Ebon Blade was tempted to call it beautiful.
The entire routine was long enough that Ivarr had never gotten to the end of it, but as Evelyn learned each part and incorporated it into the section sheâd already mastered, she eventually got to the point where the whole thing looped back around. The blade hadnât even known that it had been set up so that the last step and stroke pivoted smoothly into the first, but it supposed it should have. It would have, it had a body.
+7 Life Force.
In the same way that her dance-like strokes flowed smoothly from one to the next, the days during those last few weeks blended together. There was no real Life Force left for the weapon to gather, and the forest had gone silent for a lack of birds and other animals, but even without the conflict that it craved, some part of it enjoyed that serene, meditative process.
Eventually, whole afternoons could pass by without either of them saying a word, and if the blade peered into Evelynâs mind, it would find her focused on the same thing as it was: the death of the king, and an end to a generation's old travesty. Their reasons were different, of course, but their purpose was unified, and the blade saw that in both its stats as well as hers.
The Ebon Blade
Life Force: 1823/7800
Siphon: 28-40
Souls: 3/58
Path: Death, Level 5 - complete
Blood, Level 5 - complete
Vengeance, Level 3 - 18/100 villains slain.
Reserves: 10 - Your gemstone is perfect.
Siphon: 7 - Your blade is long and sharp.
Connection: 4 - Nearly Complete - The windings of your grip are almost perfect.
Control: 4 - Overpowering - Your runes are deep.
Senses: 5 - Clear - Your hilt is unmarred.
Soul: 4 - Flawed - You know how you were created.
Powers:
Accelerate Wielder 3: Increase wielderâs speed and agility.
Aethersight 1: spend Life Force to see mana flows.
Aethershroud 4: suppress your own magical appearance by 80%
Aura of Hunger: Drain Life Force from nearby victims.
Amplify Blade 3: Spend Life Force to strike with extra power.
Amplify Wielder 3: Strength
Attuned: Bonuses you offer your wielder increase by 10%
Bolt 4: launch lightning at your opponents, and travel along it.
Inferno 1: Light your blade on fire for additional damage.
Parasitic Link 5: Your wielder provides for your needs.
Secondary Powers:
False Image 4: disguise your appearance or your wielderâs appearance, in or out of combat.
Giantâs Strength 3: +3 strength
Speed of the Shadows 3: +3 agility, +15% speed in darkness.
Death
Drain Soul: Harvest the souls of your victims for later use.
Convert Souls: Devour a soul for its constituent essence.
Ineffective Immunity: Natural immunities no longer protect your enemies.
Deathly Touch: All strikes deal +10 cold damage.
Beyond their Reach: Life drain effects do not affect you.
Grim Reaper: Bonus damage from cold increased.
Endless Malaise: You gather Life Force from the dead.
Blood
Vampirism: Drain more life force from blood
Hemophilia: The wounds you inflict donât stop bleeding.
Bonds of Blood: you may examine the minds of wounded enemies with half of your connection rating.
Flesh and Bone: your wielder heals faster but at double the cost.
Red Haze: gain 33% of your Siphon from every significant wound inflicted within your reach.
Aura of Life and Death: You may heal people with a range equal to your Aura of Hunger.
Blood Mastery: You may take control of wounded opponents for a short time.
Surge of Vitality: Shorten your wielderâs lifespan to increase their physical attributes by 50% for the next ten minutes.
Vengeance
Judge Soul: Judge good or evil at a glance.
Righteous Fury: +10% damage to anyone that has wronged you or your wielder.
Anger Issues: Your wielder takes less damage when pursuing a grudge.
Detect Grudge (enhanced): locate someone you have a grudge against, understand someones deeds when you fight them.
Claiming a Debt: Collect favors as you complete the grudges of others.
Not only was it as strong as it ever was, but it had achieved a union of purpose which it had never know with any of its other wielders. Being held by a woman still felt nearly as strange as being held by an orc. Part of it would always prefer a loyal version of Ivarr, but in Evelynâs hands, it felt that it could accomplish anything, and soon enough they would put that theory to the test together.
Name: Evelyn Gilles
Occupation: Barroness
Toughness: 4+4
Strength: 4+16
Agility: 5+9
Speed: 4+4
Intelligence: 6
Willpower: 5 -1
Morality: Determined
Bloodlust: Growing
Status: Attuned (+10% to all combat skills)
Martial Skill: Below Average
Armor Proficiency: Low
Dodging: Average
Athletics: Average
Goal: To strike down my father and save the Inner Kingdomâs from their downward spiral.
Though her gains were meager, they showed some improvement. She wasnât the ideal wielder, but now, for better or worse, she was an acceptable one, and when she eventually died, it would regret her passing.
When her entourage finally arrived to retrieve Evelyn and bring her home, she had to put it away in her trunk, which was something that it very nearly did not allow. It had spent too much time with her now, and after her loverâs recent ambush, it did not like the idea of leaving her defenseless, even for a moment.
+21 Life Force.
Still, it did not cling to her. Not only would that have been pathetic, but it would have also ruined everything, and together, they went back to Gilles Hall and the rest of her sleepy dominion.
Really, the Baroness was less defenseless than sheâd been in her whole life, but at best, sheâd be able to defeat only a talented squire or two. A highwayman, or a real tough, would end her without much issue. Without a wielder, though, it could not prevent such things. All it could do was rock back and forth in the dark of her wardrobe while they made their way down the road.
Comments
D. Winchester
She is. I loved writing these chapters.
Gratti
I really enjoy the current wielder. A nice change of pace from the others!
DeadSlime
Edit Suggestion: Sometimes that necessitated awkward stories and leaving it in the foliage at the treeline while she (hurried) buried back to the house, but it didnât care if the help thought she was having a dalliance with some man. It only cared that its existence was not discovered.Â
