Chapter Three: The First Blade

Terron meets Colonel Butterworth and discusses the construction of his blade.

Chapter Three: The First Blade

 They walked for a few moments in silence; Terron still didn’t know how he should speak to his superior officer. Before he could conjure up a topic of conversation they reached a door labeled ‘Crafting Room’ Phoebe knocked on the door,

“Colonel, Terron Robespierre is here.” She then turned around and walked away. Terron was

Confused, but didn’t have time to ask Phoebe where she was going before the door opened.

"Mr. Robespierre, it’s about time you and I met." a tall bald man said as he walked into the room through a hallway from the right side of the room. He wore what appeared to be a Blayders uniform but was covered in soot and ash. He had heavy blue eyes and chapped lips surrounded by a white beard stained by soot and ash. He struck Terron as a man who cared very little about personal appearance.

"I am Colonel Alexander Butterworth. Master sword smith and lapdog of the Minoan military." He said holding his hand out to shake, as Terron shook his hand he said,

"I'm here about forging my blade; I'd like to get started immediately." He was so excited he could barely contain a professional display of happiness. Colonel Butterworth smiled while placing his hands behind his back and stepping closer to Terron. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes looking at Terrons chaliced hands. The Colonel let out a slight chuckle as he pulled a chair out from one of the desks; he sat in the chair and pointed at Terron saying,

"You have been properly trained in the art of swordsmen yes? What about the art of sword smith?" Terron told the Colonel of his training, from the first time he ever used a blade in battle,

To the first time he ever struck hammer to steel to create a practice blade. The Colonel seemed to be greatly impressed that Terron took the time and hassle of learning how to construct and design his own blade. He explained to Terron that in the past year only four new Blayder recruits had built their own blades by hand, the other forty new Blayders had picked a cast, and a metal, and then waited for it to be made by a smith. As they spoke Terron could see that the Colonel was egger to help him create his blade. Terron looked at the Casting racks and asked,

"What would we do if I didn’t want to use a cast; I know it takes longer to create a blade through Hammer and tempering, but I understand that they are far more durable. How long would it take to craft?" Terron pulled out the folded paper that was in his pocket from earlier in the morning.

The Colonel stood from his chair and reached his hand out for Terron to hand him the paper, he inhaled deeply as he looked upon the vibrantly and informatively detailed sketch Terron had spent the past year drawing, editing and labeling. The Colonel looked up from the sketch saying,

"This is impressive; you seem to be a fan of making Hybrid designs. For a blade of this length, tang and width, I would say it would take a week by cast, and the better part of a year to create by hammer and anvil." Terron became slightly discouraged when he heard him say the amount of time required making the blade the way he imagined, but then he swallowed his disappointment and walked over to the casting racks, he was slightly nervous to ask his next question.

"Would it be possible for me to make a temporary blade for use now, and work on the Hybrid Blade over time?” The Colonel nodded and said,  

"Of course, any member of the Blayders is allowed to craft as many blades as he or she wants.

You just have to remember to register the blade with me. I will send the order for the materials required to create your Hybrid, but for now pick a cast, and choose well. Because you might not be granted into the Blayders regime, and this blade will be your battle blade." the Colonel then left the room with the sketch in hand.

Terron walked down the rows of racks, each cast was signed by a Blayder who created it. Long swords, Jian blades, Katana Blades, Scimitar's and more. Terron could barely keep track of how many there were in the first rack, they were unorganized and burnt from use. Soon Terron had over ten casts pulled out and laid on the floor; he stood in the center surrounded by the casts. He thought about the thrusting and defensive attributes of the Minoan Long Sword, the Slashing and speed of the Katana blade, the weight and power of a Jian and Dao blade and the nobility and glamour of the Royal Saber blade. In between the main four blades there were as many different hybrids and combinations as there were stars in the night sky.

 Terron began to think about his blade. He always admired the functions of the Gonuran blades, but they were so one purposed that if they were not used as a weapon for attack they were completely useless, while the Minoan Blade types were more for defense than attack. The Angkor Watt blades where for attack not defense, Terron felt he had to find a happy medium between all three nations blades, the Minoan Long sword, a straight double edged blade with a double edged triangular point. The Gonuran Dao Blade and Katana Blade, the Dao blade was a single edged lightweight Drop point blade for speed, while the Katana Blade was a Single edged clip point blade for piercing and technique. The Angkor Watt Saber Blade, a thin, single edged blade that was never less than three feet in length. It was considered the most effective blade in the manner of speed and power. Terron knew there were many different blade variations, but they were all based off of these four blade types. He knew that any blade we would choose to wield would have to be able to reflect his nature and beliefs. He always favored Defense over Attack, but knew that a battle filled will much defense and little offense was ultimately useless.  One by one he picked casts that he felt matched his vision of the perfect blade.

               

While Terron stared at the ten casts he had picked he began to think about the Lieutenant Colonels advice, and then Butterworth’s statement “you might not be granted access into the Blayders regime.” Terron had almost forgotten that he was not a Blayder yet. He was excited and nervous, calm and terrified. He sat in the middle of the circle made by the casts resting his chin on his hands thinking about what he would do with the blade. Soon he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, he stood and faced the man, on his collar was the Rampant Lion of Minoa, he was a Colonel like Butterworth; younger and dressed in a neat clean Blayders uniform. He had medium length black hair and deep blue eyes. He looked at Terron for a moment then stuck his hand out to shake; Terron nervously looked at the man’s shoulder which said ‘Son of Minoa’ Terron immediately recognized the codename. Colonel Thomas Gage smiled as he said,

                “Terron Robespierre, I have heard good things about you from Major Winters.” His voice was deep and calm; he spoke with a confidence that almost irritated Terron to no end.  Gage then walked past Terron and looked at the circle of Blade casts. He knelt down and lifted one up saying,

                “This one is very useful in tight situations. But it doesn’t hold an edge for very long. Now, if you where to have the blade smiths combine this one with say… this one (he then picked up another Blade cast) the edge should hold very well.” He then stood and turned, Terron had still not said a word. He was star struck; Colonel Thomas Gage was seen as a hero in Minoa. He was Terrons idol, and inspiration for becoming a Blayder. He then handed the casts to Terron and began walking to the door,

                “Thank you Colonel.” Terron said standing and saluting. Gage turned and saluted back saying,

                “I don’t quite know why you’re here Mr. Robespierre. But I can assure you, the military life is not like the pampered high life. Think about that before you enter, it is not all guts and glory.” He then left. His words offended Terron to no end, and in a matter of a few minutes Thomas Gage had gone from an inspirational idol, to arrogant jerk.

 

                Soon Terron had picked out several Blade casts, and drew simple schematics on how they would be combined. Butterworth soon stood behind him as he finished the sketches, without Terron knowing he was behind him, Butterworth said,

                “You are a creative one boy.”

This startled Terron for a brief second; he then turned and said,

                “Sneaking up on people is rude sir. And I don’t know if I would truly be happy with this blade, it just seems so hollow to make a blade through cast and mold. Maybe that’s just me though.”

Terron then turned back to his sketch, Butterworth watched him as he erased and slowly redrew different variations of his temporary blade; seeing much of himself in Terron he couldn’t help but remember the days of his youth, the sins, the virtues, the triumphs and defeats. He remembered the war and gripped the handle of his Dao blade tightly. Terron soon noticed that Butterworth was lost in nostalgia.  

                “Sir, is everything alright?”

Terron asked slowly afraid he was being rude in asking. Butterworth let out a joyful chuckle and stepped back over to Terron, Looking at Terrons blade design he said,

                “This would be simple to make. But… it is basically a Dao blade wouldn’t you say?”

 Terron agreed, though he felt like this was a trick question. As Terron Nodded Butterworth went on saying,

                “Yes, yes. Every great Blayder has wielded a blade that has history to it my boy. And seeing as you are the Fuehrer’s son you deserve nothing less!”

He then pulled his Dao blade out of its sheath and laid it on the sketch table. As it came into contact with the table a thud could be heard from the sheer weight of the Damascus steel blade.  The watermarks danced and swirled around the blade like waves of water, or strands of silver hair. The blade had a mirror polished edge, rare in Damascus steel blades. Terron was now confused though, why was Butterworth placing his blade upon the table?

                “Sir?” Terron asked confused.

Butterworth then sat on one of the stools, he detached the sheath from his waist belt and laid it next to the blade; the sheath was dragon wood, a dense coal black wood from the Harappan nation, though small pieces of the wood where scattered around the entire continent of Harappan, no ‘Dragon Wood tree’ was ever found, it was rare to find a piece large enough to make a blade sheath out of. The wood had been polished to shine like satin, and on the ends where brass fittings, one featuring a Gonuran Dragon god, the other featuring the Minoan Rampant Lion. The Handle of the blade was made of the same wood; the pommel and round guard was the same brass fitting with the Dragon and Lion on each side.  The blade itself was a magnificent work of art.

“Terron I want you to wield my blade on the battle field. I am so old they keep me here anyways. This blade deserves to be used in battle. I crafted her after I returned home from the Four Corners War many years ago so she still has never seen combat. I will not take no for an answer. I have a Damascus steel and Oak replica waiting at home to be worn. So take it. This is an order from a superior officer.”

Butterworth held out his hand for Terron to shake, Terron was so grateful that he didn’t know what to say. He had not even become true Blayder yet, and here was an experienced Blayder just handing Terron a powerful blade.

“If it will make you feel better about it, you can give her back after you finish crafting your own blade.  Till then, I want this blade to be your weapon to use on missions, in practice, everything, every day.”  

Terron was surprised by Butterworth’s generosity. He always pictured Military higher ups as rude stuck up people. Butterworth then stoked his beard thinking about how his fellow Blayders would react to him just giving his blade away.

“I, I honestly do not know what to say sir.” Terron replied still completely caught off guard.

He then lifted the blade off of the table. The blade felt right in his hands, the weight and balance of the sword gave Terron a boost of confidence.  His heart fluttered like it did when he would fall down a large hill.

“Well, let’s see it then, let’s see what you can do.” Butterworth ordered; eager to witness Terron’s abilities.  

Terron then held the blade in his right hand while the left arm was stretched out across his chest for defense. The edge of the blade faced away from Terron, he moved his arm slowly waving the blade from left to right focusing on where the tip of the blade was at all times. His breathing became easier, his eyes did not blink and his mouth did not open once as his speed slowly began to increase to Butterworth’s surprise.  Soon Terron s hand could not be seen as he moved so quickly.  The blade was but a slight glint of light from the lights overhead reflecting off of the mirrored edge.

“My word.” Butterworth whispered under his breath as Terron began to perform advanced movements stepping on sketch desks and leaping through the air demonstrating the techniques that Major Winters had taught him.

Terron’s hair whipped side to side, every muscle in his body was flexed. His feet moved in precise movements and patterns, Even Terron never understood why it was so simple for him to perform the movements without slipping once. For others it took years upon years of practice and drilling to learn how to properly use the ancient techniques. Terron’s eyes began to settle and relax as his body became adjusted to the length and weight of the blade.  In his mind he could see every movement that he would perform before he would even begin to do it. Terron’s focus never faltered as he plotted out every swift movement, every strike and every footstep.  As he quickly sheathed the blade he turned to witness the astonishing surprised gawk on the Colonel’s face.  

                “Well done boy, well done!” he exclaimed as Terron opened his eyes.

The Colonel sat in a nearby chair looking around the room in a manner filled with nostalgia. Terron walked to the other side of the sketch table, sitting in a chair he asked,

                “So, do you remember when you joined the Blayders?”  The Colonel smiled and nodded in response taking a deep breath in,

                “The scent of metal and burning embers is a scent you smell on the battlefield, as well as in this very room. But there is one scent that you will never experience again after you craft your blade and leave the training facility.”  

The Colonel walked to a shelf full of oil filled glass bottles, he picked one up and returned to his chair, he opened the bottle and embraced the scent of the thick fluid.

                “It never smells the same way after you leave. Mineral honing oil is one of the most important tools you can have in caring for your blade.”  Terron then drew the blade halfway out of its sheath and looked closely at the mirrored finish. He could now see the faint traces of honing oil and the earthy scent filled his nostrils.

                “That was the first thing I was ever taught about swordsmanship.  Care for your blade and it will care for you, neglect your blade and it will fail you.” His voice now carried remorse as he continued saying,                    

“Blayders fancy themselves invincible, but without our weapons we are still just men. And many men died believing they could not be defeated or caught off guard. Your weapon must always be ready for battle.” Terron now began to wonder why the Colonel was giving him all of this advice.

                                They spoke for hours, though to Terron it felt as if only minutes had passed. The Colonel regaled Terron of his best battle stories, Terron listened intently to catch any hints of wisdom he could gain. In a way it reminded him of when he and his brother where younger and their father would tell them battle stories before bed. Terron soon found that his entire life was always centered on war and battle. Soon the room was no longer filled with the echo of Terron and the Colonel’s voices and a calm silence washed over the two as they had now both ran out of meaningful things to say. Terron stood from his seat and walked around to the Colonel extending his hand to shake,

“I hope that one day I will get to put all of your advice to the test.”

The Colonel smiled and shook his hand saying,

                “There is not a doubt in my mind that you will become a powerful, and irreplaceable part of our nation’s military.”   

Terron left the crafting room and was soon greeted by Warrant Officer Stoltz, she walked him to the Barracks where he quickly found an empty bed and dove in. The scratchy uncomfortable mattress seemed like a godsend after the day of adrenalin and nerve racking patients he had to endure. Now the only thing on Terron’s mind was whether or not he would be inducted into the Blayders or not. 

Author's Note

Chapter three of TRLB, originally Chapters 2 and 3 where on chapter (chapter 2) but i decided that too much information being conveyed into one chapter would be dragged out and boring. i seriously hope you are all enjoying Blayders TRLB!!!

Reviews

[Calypso]

Well written. I can see your characters flesh out and come more real.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the conversation about the weapon. I like the advice and direction given by the officer. Gave direction and purpose for the main character in the story. Thank you for a excellent chapter.
Coyote