Lance and the Magic Sword

J.L. Weinmeister

We travel northeast to Tizremil and Pobaliz. Both are deep within the boreal forests of the north. Pobaliz is less fortified because it’s about as far away from the border as it can be without being in the tundra. That does, however, make it very cold. It may be autumn, but here it feels like winter. You all don warmer clothes to help fight the chill when we’re outside.

When we leave Pobaliz, we head southeast. There’s another canyon in our way. You’re happy to see the mellowmira prefer sturdy stone bridges. On the other side of the canyon is the coast, and the port city of Shamarki lies next to the ocean.

The water is rather cold this far north, but that doesn’t stop some of you from venturing out on boats for a few hours.

When we’re all gathered back together that evening, I tell you another of the mellowmira’s bedtime stories.

* * * * *

In a bygone time, there was a young man named Lance. Lance was born and raised in the town of Shamarki. At the time he was alive, Shamarki was closer to the border than it is today. The nearby elvirian town of Tresik was the bane of Lance’s existence.

The inhabitants of both towns were constantly fighting over resources. The mellowmira wanted plants and animals from the grassland, and the elvira wanted timber from the forest. Their fishermen encountered each other every day while out on the sea. They failed to come up with a trade agreement that satisfied both parties, and most meetings ended in bloodshed.

Lance had just come of age and had completed his training as a soldier. It was time for him to join the mellowmiran army. He hoped his service would help his family and neighbors get the resources they needed from the southern part of the continent without it leading to further violence.

When Lance was sent to the front lines (which weren’t very far away), he took his favorite sword. His older brother was a blacksmith and had made it for him. Lance knew the blade would serve him well in the coming days.

When the fighting began, both the mellowmira and elvira used arrows first. Lance’s shield protected him from the deadly projectiles, and he was able to get close enough to use his sword. He fought his opponents with bravery and valor, single-handedly taking out many elvirian soldiers.

But then tragedy struck. His blade was knocked from his grasp. Lance picked up a nearby sword that once belonged to a fellow soldier and dispatched the enemy who nearly bested him. After the battle was over, he looked everywhere for his sword, but he couldn’t find it.

While the blade he had taken was functional, Lance felt like he didn’t fight as well with it. He needed a new one.

The next time he went into battle, he slayed an elvirian general, and he claimed his sword. When Lance touched the hilt with his bare skin, he felt energy flow into his hand and work its way deeper into his body. Lance was overwhelmed with a sense of strength and courage. He felt undefeatable.

The next time he fought the elvira, Lance used the sword he took from the fallen general. Wielding it was almost effortless, and Lance was able to destroy his opponents. Thanks to Lance and his magic sword, the mellowmira gained the advantage in the war for many decades.

But one day, an elvira got the better of Lance and killed him. When his comrades recovered his body, his sword was nowhere to be found. No one has seen it since that fateful day.

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