I, Ad Dakhla, scribe and chronicler to the court of the Sultan of the City of Bronze, do here set down the story of my own sword at the Sultan’s express request. I imagine it amuses him, or perhaps he thinks that I was given Le Aaiun’s sword when she passed through and have secretly kept it. No matter; history should recall all, even the mundane.

My sword is a simple falchion, steel-bladed and tanged, with accents of brass and lapis on the handle. I purchased it in the bazaar during a visit to Korton; it is said that their legendary blind smiths had a hand in its creation, but the same is said of every blade there. On my return to the City of Brass, I had the weapon inspected by a smith a trust, who modified it to my taste and created the azure scabbard for it. I have never been much of a swordsman, but I know a few basic parried and thrusts sufficient to protect myself.

If they write songs of my mundane sword, it will be about how I used it as an axe, a paper cutter, and a straight-edge for drawing.

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