Dragonslayers were not well accredited, in this day and age. The presence of this one was a provisionary fluke; Alisandre was the only location with one on hand. Perhaps even the old orders had lost the heart. But not this one, this time. Extraneous noises faded from hearing. Ready to end the dance of gazes, the swordsman hoisted his weapon and issued a challenge.

“Do you know this sword? This was the sword that killed your kin, Hamurlae. When the songs of forging turned against us and began destroying our families, taking our lives, strife arising from partnership: we gave up our treasured accomplishments to save our sanity, the songs of forging lost with Hamurlae. This blade was made with those songs that can never again be sung. The jewel, however, has been replaced – not the first, which burst in the heart of Hamurlae.”

Ignivus let loose a deeply offended roar. “Who dares wave this ill token before my sight?” ‘E lashed er coils to strike a set of claws at this bravo. The swordsman stepped aside from the spray of street chunks.