Alaric sat in his chamber, the dim light from the flickering candles casting long shadows on the walls. His brows were furrowed in deep thought, his usually calm demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic tension. The room was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Suddenly, a shadow moved within the darkness. One of his assistants, a nameless figure who had served him for years, emerged from the shadows, his expression grim.
"Guild Master," the assistant began, his voice low but steady, "there's something you need to know."
Alaric's gaze shifted to the assistant, his eyes narrowing. "What is it?" he asked, his tone clipped.
"Last night, during the fight between Leo and Jack... Leo's hand was severed."
Alaric leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. "Severed? How?"
The assistant took a breath before continuing. "It was cut clean off, Guild Master. By a sword, as far as I could determine from examining the wound."
"A sword?" Alaric repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "How certain are you?"
"Very certain," the assistant replied. "The cut was too precise, too clean. It could only have been made by a blade."
Alaric's frown deepened. "And the sword... it just appeared out of nowhere? No one threw it?"
The assistant hesitated, recalling the scene. "According to Leo, there was no one else present. Jack was lying on the ground, incapacitated. No one could have swung the sword."
Alaric's eyes narrowed as he considered this. "Was there any incantation?"
The assistant shook his head. "None that we could detect. It was as if the sword had a will of its own."
Alaric fell silent, his mind racing. A sword that could be controlled without an incantation? It was unheard of, impossible even. Yet the evidence was undeniable.
He had once heard of a rumor, a legend whispered among the oldest of the guilds, of swords that could be wielded by sheer will, but those tales were always dismissed as fantasy, a near-impossible feat even with incantations. Yet here it was, a weapon unlike any he had ever encountered.
"A sword that moves on its own..." Alaric murmured to himself, lost in thought. "Could such a thing truly exist?"
The assistant remained silent, waiting for the Guild Master's next command. Alaric stood up, his decision made.
"Find out everything you can about this sword," he ordered. "I want to know where it came from, who made it, and how it ended up in that fight. We may be dealing with something far more dangerous than we can imagine." "And also bring James to me," he added.
The assistant bowed and slipped back into the shadows, leaving Alaric alone with his thoughts. The Guild Master stared into the fire, his mind churning with possibilities. If such a weapon existed, it could change the balance of power in Rovia and beyond.
--
In the dimly lit underground chamber of Rovia, the nine figures of the Shadow Saints gathered once more, the air thick with tension and purpose. As the murmurs of their previous discussion about the Guild faded, Selene, the master of intelligence gathering, cleared her throat, signaling that she had something of great importance to share. The room fell into a heavy silence as all eyes turned to her.
"There's been an unsettling development," Selene began, her voice calm but laced with urgency. "I've just received intelligence about a strange incident involving a sword—one that may possess properties beyond anything we've encountered before."
Nyx, the de facto leader, arched an eyebrow. "A sword? Go on, Selene."
Selene nodded, her expression grave. "Last night, during a confrontation between Leo and Jack, something extraordinary happened. Leo's hand was severed clean off in an instant. Witnesses claim there was no one near him who could have done it, and Jack was incapacitated. No incantation was spoken, and yet, the cut was precise—too precise for any ordinary weapon."
The chamber erupted into a flurry of concerned whispers. Orin, the strategist, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Are you suggesting this sword moved on its own? That it can be controlled without the need for incantations or a wielder?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Selene replied, her voice steady. "If such a sword truly exists, it poses a threat not only to our plans but to the balance of power in Rovia itself."
Draven, the master of stealth, let out a low whistle. "A sword that moves of its own accord... if Alaric gets his hands on it, he could become an even greater threat than he already is. We cannot allow that."
"Indeed," Elysia added, her voice thoughtful. "Such a weapon would give Alaric an edge, compensating for his incompetence with a tool that could turn the tide in his favor. It's imperative that we prevent him from obtaining it."
Vesper, ever the pragmatist, spoke up, his tone dark and foreboding. "The sword, if it's real, must be destroyed—or, better yet, brought under our control. We cannot let Alaric, or anyone else in the Guild, have access to such power."
Kael, the diplomat, chimed in with a note of caution. "But we must also be careful. If word spreads of a sword with such abilities, others will seek it out. We must act swiftly and discreetly."
Nyx, who had been listening intently, finally spoke, her voice cutting through the discussions with calm authority. "Selene, do we have any leads on the sword's origins or its current whereabouts?"
Selene shook her head. "Not yet. All we know is that it was involved in last night's incident. But I've already dispatched our best spies to investigate further. We should have more information soon."
Thorne, the warrior, clenched his fists in frustration. "We can't afford to wait too long. Every moment we delay, Alaric might be closing in on the sword."
"Patience, Thorne," Orin interjected, his tone measured. "We need to be strategic. Charging in without knowing what we're up against could lead to disaster. We must gather as much information as we can before making our move."
"Orin is right," Nyx agreed. "But we must also prepare for all possibilities. Elysia, I want you to devise a way to counter this sword's abilities, should we face it in battle. Vesper, work on detecting any magical auras or traces that might lead us to it."
The two nodded in acknowledgment, their minds already working on solutions.
Seraphis, who had been silent until now, spoke up, his voice cold and calculating. "And if we do find the sword? What then? Do we destroy it, or do we use it to our advantage?"
A brief silence fell over the chamber as the Shadow Saints considered the implications. Finally, Nyx made the decision.
"If the sword is as powerful as it seems, we cannot allow it to remain in the world—at least not in anyone's hands but our own. If we find it, we will decide its fate then, depending on what we discover about its nature. But our primary objective remains clear: prevent Alaric from acquiring it at all costs."
The Shadow Saints nodded in unison, their resolve solidifying. The room was filled with a sense of purpose, an understanding that the stakes had just been raised. They were no longer simply plotting to overthrow the Guild; they were now in a race to control or neutralize a weapon that could change the course of their plans—and possibly the future of Rovia itself.
"Selene," Nyx continued, "keep us informed of any developments. The moment you have a lead, we move. This sword must not fall into the wrong hands."
Selene inclined her head in agreement. "I'll notify you the moment we have anything concrete. Until then, we should all be on high alert. Alaric may already be hunting for it."
With their course set, the Shadow Saints began to disperse, each member retreating to their own shadows within the chamber, their minds focused on the task ahead. The fate of Rovia—and perhaps even more—now hung in the balance.