Sword Side Stories: Allsbane

Sword Side Stories: Allsbane

…

Commissioned by Citino

Wordcount: 1000.

…

It is called the International Museum of Ancient History. A structure that man would’ve once looked upon and wondered if it were made by gods was free for the public to enter as they wished.

And, many did.

It had fifty wings spread over fifty Arcologies, which were all shifted very season to a new Arcologies, but one can visit them all in a month with little effort. Each one was a palace filled with treasures, works of art beyond compare, and humanity’s history.

Many gods would have looked upon one and destroyed it out of jealousy.

For they were temples of faith made by humanity for themselves.

Today, I looked upon one of my former wielders in a hall filled with all their glory and shame presented without bias.

“Charlamange, you would weep if you knew what became of your dream to recreate Rome and untie humanity.” He stood in full regalia at the center of the room. A holographic image born from analysis of his body, which lay entombed within the machine’s pedestal. The sword that hung upon his hip was not I, as he lost me long before he grew old and wizened. “You were better with a sword than with politics… instead of uniting humanity you drove it apart.”

He was not the man I remembered, who led knights across the whole of Europe and vanquished monsters and threats to his people, but a king with a heavy crown. His laugh lines remained, but they were buried beneath other, deeper wrinkles of unkind years. There was no word of the Paladins in history, only folktales catalogued by those who strove to seek out the whole truth.

Instead of becoming a symbol all of humanity can strive to become, he became a wedge that drove it apart.

The legend and myth that he wished to continue onward forever became nothing more than fairytales barely remembered.

My last wielder, until Li Song removed me from my prison, would weep if he saw the tomb that he was afforded. He would deny his worth, completely and utterly, and ask for all his treasures to be given away. Then, he would wish fervently to be forgotten, due to the shame he would feel from the results of his actions.

Looking upon what came next, how his blood and lineage transformed and changed, I could only wonder what would have become of me.

None of his descendants, nor who came after, were grand by any measure. The Sun King intrigued me, but his vision was poor. Yes, without a doubt, there was no means for Charlamange’s descendants to make up for his mistake. However, had I remained within his grasp and was not stolen away, I could only wonder how many more battles I would’ve fought until he chose to sit down, properly raise his children, and hand me to an Emperor who would’ve united Humanity.

However, such a thing never came to pass, and I was taken away.

Still, though I certainly wondered, I felt neither hatred nor regret.

It is a poor thing to be lost to the ages, but unlike my fellows I was more familiar with humanity and history. 

And, I am always at the forefront of the greatest possibility of change.

To hate what had happened to me, to regret being taken away, means that I abhorred my current circumstances. 

That I did not wish to be wielded by Li Song.

So, I did not come here to reminisce or cultivate hate. 

I came to say goodbye to an old friend and give him one last gift by telling the story of those who fought beside him and who were lost to time. 

…

“The Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne, huh? I’d always wondered what happened to those idiots.” The Reincarnation of Odin met me, after I recounted the whole of the tales to one of the keepers of the Museum. Gungnir stood beside him, ready for war, but clothed in modern garb as I was. “So, do you think that ancient history will help humanity out? Don’t you think it’s better for failures to be forgotten?”

His tongue was biting and the gleam in his gaze was predatory. 

But I stayed true to my beliefs.

“I didn’t do it for humanity. I did it for my friend.” Charlemagne, one of the few men who could’ve united the world, and who wielded me honorably and well deserved what I did. “What happens after doesn’t matter.” 

“So, you won’t care if I go ahead and put a gag on that, right? Since it really doesn’t matter?” His question was grating, inviting conflict, but I saw past that and shook my head. While I walked away a scowl formed on his lips. “Pay a little attention, Allsbane. Do you think humanity’s up for hearing that they used to have people like the Preservers more than a millennium ago, but still lost in the end?”

“Do you think you have the right to say what’s human history and not?” I answered his question with one of my own.” Odin. The Wise. The Cynical. They Fearful. He had many other names that were lost to history. Annihilating one Pantheon made many forget the lesser ones, but I did not. “If so, then you will have to fight against me. I will lose many times, but you know how it will end.”

Magic is finite, even in the hands of someone such as he, and my very nature is to adapt and surpass my foes.

He knows this and that makes his teeth grind.

“Fine, but the consequences of this will be on your head. Do what you want, but you’re cleaning up whatever mess you make!” He turned on his heel with a huff, eyes narrowed, but the mask of rage he wore fell away and was replaced by a frown. Good. My words reached him. “Yeah. They did. Fuck you.”
He left, as I headed towards another wing of the Museum, while Gugnir followed him.

There are many legends yet that needed to be remembered, but were erased by humanity’s foes.