“A blade is only a piece of metal, harmless, when in no ones hands. As with any other weapon. On there own…they are nothing. But when wielded by a force, it has the potential to be many things”, says Kenjiin.
“Like what Master?”
“A sharp knife that cuts to the truth, a tool that can wreak destruction, an instrument for diplomacy, instills fear and salvation…it becomes dangerous! Which is why it is no toy, understand?”
The master held the blade in his hands, it was sheathed in its scabbard. His student looked upon it with eager eyes, a mere child, who only saw it as a new toy instead of a weapon, despite his master’s explanation. The man laid it down upon a flat rock. Then they sat.
“Meditate with me”
They meditated in a lotus position, up high on a hill near a waterfall, under a blossom tree. At first it looked similar to a blossom tree, yet it was different, the wood was not the same and the leaves were, larger. As if they had blossomed into bountiful sizes. Veiny too. In the blue, cloudless sky, two suns overlooked the land. A moon partially lit by the two suns could be seen — Niarros. The closest moon to Ophellatros, the homeworld of the Soresuu people; a humanoid, amphibious species.
The child opens his black, beady eyes, caught in a moment of thought. His eyes scan the jungle ahead — vibrant with life and sounds.
“Master Kenjiin?”
“Yes Nuu?”
“When will I get my sword?”
“When you are fit enough to wield it”
In the distance, there ears picked up a rumble, as if a thousand men were marching there way. Then the voices came and orders were bellowed. Kenjiin opened his eyes and saw there banners sticking out between clearings in the jungle. Nuu could see them to.
“It seems our enemy has arrived earlier than expected. Perhaps I can finally put this sword to good use. Nuu, go, return to the others”
“Yes master!”
The man brushed his cape back, grabbed the sword and placed it onto his hip, then, he headed off; down the hill and towards a city gate.
“Who goes there!”, a guard shouted.
“Three-thousand men at the gates if you don’t open it fast enough!”
“Master Kenjiin!?”
“In the flesh!”
“Hold on, I’ll get the gate open!”
Gears turned in there places and lifted the gate up, which allowed Kenjiin to enter the sprawled city. The master hurried through a flock of birds that flew the moment he was inside, then through gatherings of people, then wagons that had pelted themselves down the road, then a garrison and finally; a maid who almost bumped into him with a plate that held drinks for the lord, as well as for the generals, and himself. In fact, Kenjiin treated himself with one and thanked the lady.
Within the castle were maids, guards, priests and nobles. As he made his way up a winding set of stairs, there, the lord himself. Dressed in heavy armour, ordained in rich ornaments, and wore a crown embellished with jewels. He stood there with his generals who have observed a map for the past hour; to plan strategies and tactics.
“Ah, master Kenjiin, you have arrived”, said the lord.
“Yes my lord. Our enemies — the Desh’varavuu, are closing in on the city as we speak”
“Very well…are your men ready?”
“They are, but, do we still have your word?”
“You’ll get your place, although to stay I still require a hundred of those swords”, the lord struck a finger out, it pointed towards Kenjiin’s sword.
“They will take time, months specifically, yet if your blacksmiths are willing to learn; I’ll happily teach them the recipe. Fortunately, my students know the recipe and should be able to replicate it if I’m away. Also, in addition, the proper materials are needed such as the right amount of steel. My temple still has deposits, however, they are quickly becoming dry. I know your region is plentiful”
“Which is why many clans vie for this land. Make it fifty then, I will notify my blacksmiths and miners. For now we set off to battle. Generals, come!”, the lord and his generals left the room to ready themselves onto there Vishes, giant, four-legged beasts with an appetite for flesh.
—
Archers lined the city walls, soldiers stood there ground with shields and swords in hand, and the lord and his generals sat on there beasts, with a battalion of cavalry around them. Both clan banners flapped in the wind; the Desh’varavuu’s, a collection of circles and dots. The Yuushii, bore waves, as if it represented the very wind that had befallen upon them. A light rain followed the wind too, steadily, it became heavier.
Kenjiin and his men settled themselves into a dense part of the jungle, hidden in the shadows. They waited for the battle to commence. Eyes from both sides glared at one another, in silence, until…
“CHAAAAARRRRGEEEEE!!!”, the general of the Desh’varavuu clan roared. That was Kenjiin’s and his men’s target. Like the lord, dressed in heavy, red armour — the general (known as Bor’chaa), worn heavy armour too, jet-black, decorated with teeth and other assortment of bone.
The armies rushed over to clash, with there swords held high and shields in front, horns blew, drums rolled, and screams cracked the air. They were ready to battle. And battled they did, as blood soiled the jungle ground and the first set of soldiers fell.
Whilst the soldiers on the frontline fought, the archers fired arrows onto the Desh’varavuu legions that were further behind. They took a down a considerable number. This allowed the lord and his battalion of vishes to go round and flank. Another horn blew. That was the signal for Kenjiin and his men too strike.
“Master, that’s our signal!”, one of his men called out.
“Remember your training and envision the code!”
The Code:
Still your flame, for you are the very storm, and the gentle wind. Still your flame. In anger, I find strength, in the mist, I find serenity, in the stillness, I find freedom. I am the Flame.
They rallied into battle, hands upon there hilts, and when the enemy drew near; they unsheathed. Long, curved silver swords shone from the bits of sunlight that managed to break through the clouded sky. Clearly they were of great quality, rich in metal and design. The sheer craftmanship. Compared to the rugged, silver swords of the soldiers.
Kenjiin personally had his etched, with lines and dashes — kills perhaps? Also the blade possessed words written in the many Soresuu languages. His men did not have any etchings on theirs.
—
“Where is he?”, Nuu asked his protector; a woman who was another student to Kenjiin.
“Over there, look!”, she pointed. Men dressed in light brown robes, with red loincloths wrapped round there waists. Kenjiin was the tallest out of the five.
SHING, DING, DING!!!
They struck through the Desh’varavuu like paper. Kenjiin had a clear strike for their general…Bor’chaa. The unusual, bulky man (Soresuu are naturally slender) taunted the master with an iron fist and a two-handed claymore. Amused, Kenjiin transitioned into a stance with his sword held in front of him.
“Haha, what is that?”, Bor’chaa asks.
“This is Akk-Tu”
The men stared each other down. Kenjiin wore a smirk on his face, and waited for Bor’chaa to strike. When he did, Kenjiin performed the technique that he mastered himself for years.
DING, DING, DING DING!!
Disarmed, followed by a stab to the gut. Bor’chaa, lied dead, and bled. The man’s blood was added to the bloodied ground. Kenjiin had done a parry, then struck so precisely it had disarmed the general and exposed him. Nuu watched it all from the top of the wall, inside a watchtower, away from any archers. Nuu, along with the woman, had watched from the window whilst they stayed low to avoid unwanted attention.
The child witnessed the dance of the warriors and the deadliness of there weapons. Blood doused there blades. Indeed, they are not toys. He bore a sombre expression. It then changed to horror, Nuu’s eyes exploded, and he jumped.
“MASSSTEEEER!!!”
“NUU GET DOWN!”
Before the enemies hearts filled with terror at the loss of there general, an already, loose arrow lands into Kenjiin’s heart. One brave soldier then drove his sword through his back. That soldier’s head flew off as one of Kenjiin’s five men decapitates the bastard. Kenjiin fell. His warriors screamed, and in anger, they found strength. They chopped down any runaways. Not long after that, the battle had ended. The Yuushii were victorious, the city was saved, and the deal between Kenjiin’s order of warriors proceeded. Despite his death.
—
The man’s body was burned to ashes and poured down Leloss mountain, the temple’s location. A monument was built in his honour. In addition to that honour, the long, curved blades were named after the master.
Within the temple, Nuu sat alone in a room with Kenjiin’s blade laid out in front of him. It was time to start his full training. Still, harmless, and wielded by no one. Yet, the blade looked back, it demanded respect. It held power. Nuu was so scared to touch the weapons hilt, scared in holding something he always wanted to hold since his life began in the order. He remembered those words his master spoke.
“A blade is only a piece of metal, harmless, when in no ones hands. As with any other weapon. On there own…they are nothing. But when wielded by a force, it has the potential to be many things”
and:
“A sharp knife that cuts to the truth, a tool that can wreak destruction, an instrument for diplomacy, instills fear and salvation…it becomes dangerous!”
Indeed, it was a force to be reckoned with. What would it be when another force joins with it?
Nuu’s hand enveloped the dark, firm and intricate hilt. It felt heavy at first, but as Nuu raised it higher, it grew lighter. How odd. Surely it would be the opposite, particularly for such a young boy who bore no exemplary strength. Perhaps, these were two forces that had merged together.
Nuu spoke the code to himself several times.
“Still your flame, for you are the very storm, and the gentle wind. Still your flame. In anger, I find strength, in the mist, I find serenity, in the stillness, I find freedom. I am the Flame”
He swung the blade in various directions, rough at first, yet even that had dissipated the more he danced with it. In time it felt natural to strike this way and that. It formed into an extension of himself. Nuu, was finally fit enough to hold a Kenjiin, however, not just any Kenjiin; the first Kenjiin!
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