“This is the Serrated Blade of Ryie,” the guide said, stopping at the next aged blade. “He was the greatest bladesman of this or any age, but he had been raised by yeast monks and was sworn to only use his art against bread.”

“How did he fight, then?”

The guide gestured to an old drawing of Ryie; he was carrying a lumpy sack and surrounded by strange ovals. “He carried fresh bread rolls with him wherever he went, and threw them up in front of an enemy. If they happened to get in the way of a bread-partying cut, that was their sorrow.”

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