“Sir,” Kre whispered to the large man. “You really should choose these. There’s something special about them.”
Beleg pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly. “I don’t know lad. I’m not liking their short blade length nor their weight. To fight with two swords like this, you’d need them to be much lighter.”
The warrior started to put them away, just as another fighter started to walk over to their table, clearly intent on picking up the swords once Beleg’s hands were clear of them. Instead, Kre grabbed the swords first and pressed them back into Beleg’s hands. “Trust me Beleg,” Kre hissed, forgetting to maintain his servant role. “I don’t know how or why, but these swords can be much more than what you just experienced.”
The large man rubbed at his jaw and looked over at the Ylveryan. At this point there was no use trying to pretend that the Ylveryan hadn’t heard it all, but at least the other fighter had gone off in search of a different weapon once he realized Beleg would be there for a while yet. “Anything you can share about these?”
“My lord is too kind,” the Ylveryan responded quickly, “but we are too unimportant to be told anything of value. Our role is merely to assist those that are uncertain how some of the more exotic weapons are to be used, and to ensure that no one hurts themselves or others through their ignorance of these special weapons.”
Kre expected Beleg to argue but the large man instead bowed his head and softly uttered something in a different language. Still unused to the different sounds of the Ylveryan language, the words flew right through Kre’s ears and he could not recall them at all. The aide, on the other hand, smiled sadly and bowed his own head.
“My lord honors me, but I am no longer Ylveryan.” He turned away to retreat to his own table and paused, still facing away from them. “I will say that those swords confounded my Master something fierce. They were one of the few relics to have survived completely intact and stored securely in the ruins.”
Beleg nodded twice, once to the Ylveryan in appreciation, and once to Kre to express that he believed what the boy was saying about the swords. “Well then,” he called out. “Seems I’ve found my weapons for this event.” Kre quickly helped him attach the newly made leather scabbards to Beleg’s belt as the Announcer came over, please that his last tier one had finally made a selection.
“An odd choice, given your size,” he chuckled to Beleg, “but I suppose you’re a man that would probably win most fights even if you were wielding a swordfish!”
Neither Beleg nor Kre laughed at the joke, but Beleg did give him a wide, knowing grin, as if acknowledging the fact that he had indeed killed a man with a fish at one time in his life.
“Right,” the announcer continued. “Through that door and you’ll be in room five. There’ll be another elf slave there to help you get to the arena when it’s your time, but at this rate it’ll probably be another two hours before we get started. Still, stay in your rooms and send the elf or the boy out if you need any refreshments.”