The gift of a queen comes at the hands of an ancient enchanter’s notable assistant, and reveal the want to face that better left to lie. ⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃ Etore gave a dark haired woman with an empty scabbard a dubious look. More so for the one she was giving her. It wasn’t altogether untoward, exactly, but quite intent. The woman stopped before her. “Nothing off the shelf will do, we’ll need to be very sure your new blade doesn’t cut itself free.” “I’d like to see the blade, first,” Etore protested. “Humor me?” the woman said with a smile Etore did not like, in spite of how very friendly it was. “Very well,” Etore said, and the woman began lacing the loop of the scabbard through her belt. “I presume you’re the apprentice?” Etore asked. “I wouldn’t say that, not anymore. I’m going by Lady Anaera now, passed my test late last night.”
About The Author
Author, artist, programer, possible anachronistic fuzzy black kitten at the end of the universe - forging sprawling worlds of mercurial myth and mundane majesty.
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