3
Let me see your sword.
"There must be a few of them out there."
"A better sword"
"We don't have a grace sword."
"I don't want a grace sword. I want a proper sword, trained by a proper blacksmith"
The shopkeeper, who was thin and making all his eyes squirm, gave Lecan a groan and twisted his mouth. A white moustache can be lifted near the nose. It's hard to tell if you were angry or laughing.
"Wait a minute."
The sword I had brought with me some time later was in a rugged but well-built sheath, releasing a quiet presence.
I pulled out my sword.
Good sword.
I didn't do the "appraisal".
It is both rude and rude for an amateur to apply an "appraisal" in front of a bastard.
If you want to know about this sword, you just have to ask the shopkeeper in front of you.
"Hmm. Nice sword."
But it's not enough.
Cut or sturdy, and perhaps easy to use, this sword does not extend one or two steps to the Sword of Rusk.
When Lekan had sheathed the sword he had been shown and returned it to the counter, he pulled out the sheath (Rusk's Sword) and placed it on the counter.
"I want the same degree of sword as this sword"
The shopkeeper pulled out "Rusk's Sword". And I blinked my eyes wide open.
"Here, here. Ah. Oh, the Rusk Sword."
"Well, don't you know without an appraisal?"
"After what this muscle has done, look at the color of your body, and the sheath. Ah, it's obvious. Hey, this year, I can worship Rusk's Sword again..."
A long time ago, the shopkeeper pulled out the "Rusk Sword", but eventually it fell into the sheath.
"Sounds like you're using it a lot rampantly."
"Mm."
I intend to use it carefully as a recan. But when you think about it, Lecan's battle itself is just an impossible battle, so even if you're using it politely, you might still be making it impossible.
"Let me keep this sword. Refresh the grind and tighten the pattern."
"Uhm."
The shopkeeper had narrowed his eyes and was staring at Lecan with terrible, harsh eyes, but eventually he said:
"Sir, come to the back."
When I entered the back of the store about the owner, I was taken out of the back entrance to a warehouse-like building.
"This is him. Take a look at this sword."
There was the sword.
4.
A big sword.
It looks like a heavy sword.
Undecorative sword.
But beautiful.
The knight's sword is also made of expensive metal in the patterned part, engraved with intricate texts. It is also for anti-slip purposes, but also for the nobility worthy of a sword's grip.
This sword has no such ornament.
So much so that the original material of the pattern is not known, the pattern is altered by something of fibrous quality.
Are there strings that match the yarns of labyrinth spiders better, and match them even better, wrapped around each other? Is it dyed or is it a deep blue string?
Its boneless, powerful winding tempered Lecan's mind.
With this huge sword, the nagging sheath of leather holds the sword as it should, but this sheath has a solid texture. Perhaps not only leather, but something has a core in it.
Softly Lekan touched the sheath of his sword.
The gesture is more delicate than when touching a small child.
The pattern of the sword, of course, embraced the hands of Lecan.
Lekan gradually put his strength into it and finally put much more effort into lifting the sword.
Oh.
What a grip.
The blue string, with definite hardness and strange flexibility, became familiar with Lecan's hands.
This won't slip or slip, even if you grab it with your bloody hands. It will follow you to Lecan to the bottom of hell.
He held down his sheath with his left hand and pulled out that great sword.
Lekan feels similarly intoxicated when a beautiful and vicious sword appears.
Rekan groaned unexpectedly as the cutting tip left the sheath and the entire body of the sword was revealed.
"Uhm."
The sword has conflicting propositions.
It is cleavage and sturdiness.
Sharp swords are fragile and unbroken swords are hard to slash.
Also, for Lecan, the sword is not just a blade, but a shield, a hammer, and a spear. Not only does he sift against the blade muscle, but at all angles, Lekan strikes his sword against the enemy. What stands for it is the sword for Lekan.
How about this sword?
This sword looks sturdy in all directions.
Now, it looks like it has a rough cut.
No, that sharpness, it hasn't floated up as you can tell.
But if you sift this sword with the strength and speed you deserve, it will give you a slice of nothing. The scene was clearly visible to Lecan's eyes.
I turned my eyes to the sheath.
I thought it was a pitch-black sheath at first. That's slightly bluish. And on the surface of the sheath, which I thought was monochromatic, a strong thread of the same color floats, sinks, floats, secretly, but with a definite functional beauty. It does not let go of Lekan's heart, as her chaste wife makes her look with a mattress.
Lekan stepped out of the warehouse with his sheath in his left hand and his sword in his right.
There are only a few spaces between the warehouse and the store. But only a few of those spaces are exactly what Lecan is craving right now.
High, the sword was lifted.
It's not in Recan's memory when he swung up his sword.
It was as if the sword had stretched itself up for heaven.
Rekan put his will in his sword-ridden right hand.
(Sword)
(Obey what I command)
(Slash everything and rip it!
Yeah! and slashed and tore the atmosphere, and the great sword was shaken down, and stopped in the hollow without slashing anything.
No, it's not.
Now at this moment, if there was anything above the sword's orbit, whatever it was, it would have been slashed and torn in two.
Lekan waved down his sword with a temper to slash and tear down everything in the world, and the world was already slashed and torn apart, beyond the fact that the sword followed Lekan's orders faithfully.
"I'm surprised. There was a man who used that sword with one hand. Ahh."
In the words of the store owner, Lecan was drawn back to the real world.
"What about this sword?
"Agosto's Sword."
"The Sword of Agosto,"
"Agosto, get rid of Rusk."
"What?"
"I guess he was a talented blacksmith. He died before my uncle Rusk."
"Really?"
"That's why Agosto's sword hardly ever left."
"Has this sword been made by taking some order"
"I don't know that. Beating such a special sword. Ah, it's natural to think it was also an order, but after Agosto died, no one came to receive it. So after Rusk died, the rest of Agosto went out to sell it to eat."
"Did the owner buy it?"
"That's right. I didn't think it would sell. Well, he's a young man. I just had a hard time bringing it back to this town."
"How much?"
"What?"
"How much is this sword worth?"
"Fifteen gold coins, to say the least, but twelve gold coins at too much cost. Bad, but if I were to sell it, I wouldn't be able to do anything less. If you do that, don't tell Agosto."
"Right."
Lekan put the "Sword of Agosto" in his sheath to sleep on the ground, grabbed the gold coin he had just organized, and put it on his left hand one by one. Just when I counted fifteen, I offered it to the store owner.
"Yes, do you mind, sir?"
"This sword is worth fifteen gold coins"
Lekan told the shopkeeper to dive into the labyrinth and entrusted the "Sword of Rusk" to leave the store.