Tycon unwrapped the bound leathers, revealing a darkwood crossbow.
Though it was never Victorius' preferred weapon, he couldn't deny its masterful craftsmanship. On a whim, he picked it up, holding it in his good hand... its grip was comfortable and its weight, reassuring. Its worked wood and intricate mechanisms made it far more expensive than anything he'd ever owned... even his personal longbow, the one he'd sold off, long ago.
There was one thing that bothered him, though... Sir Tycon was a generally private person. He wasn't the type of person to show things off... not without reason.
It took him entirely too long to notice that the weapon's grip was left-handed.
"Sir Tycon..." Victorius gulped hard, his throat dry and his heart pounding. Whenever he faced the golden-eyed Decanus... he could never remember what it was like to be brave... "I can't wield this... with the way my hand is... I have no hope of loading it."
