cue, Chatham and Harlan stepped off the road
to some trees which provided shade from the afternoon sun.
* * * * *
No one spoke later in the day during their continued
travels, which suited Marik. As Maddock had promised earlier, he remained
silent, giving Marik time to consider what he’d heard thus far. Harlan offered
a rare comment during their lunch to the effect that everything held deeper
ramifications than a person might see at first. A slight nod and thoughtful
expression from Maddock suggested he wanted Marik to think about what they had
spoken of in this manner.
Fine. Well, to start with, any weapons knowledge
would be useful to a fighter. That was the obvious one, so what was less
obvious? It was nice to talk about legendary weapons or blades crafted so fine
they seemed works of art but what were the odds of him, a commoner with no
claims to any noble title, ever seeing one much less owning it? Absolutely
none as far as Marik could see.
The only practical application he could see would be
in purchasing new weapons. Knowing the differences in steel qualities or
craftsmanship would help him choose the best one. That would also keep the
merchant from charging a higher price than the blade’s actual worth, except the
only blades he would likely find were the common ones; low quality and low
craftsmanship. In the cities he might be able to find finer quality blades at
the established shops, the high swords Maddock spoke of. It might be a good
idea to find a better sword when they came to a city of any size, considering
the blade he bore. A weapon might not make the fighter, and a skilled fighter
might be able to use even a low quality sword effectively, but obtaining the
best weapon available would certainly be a boon.
This led Marik’s thoughts in a new direction.
Recognizing the quality of an opponent’s blade might help him in a fight. That
could be an application of such knowledge. If one knew the particular
weaknesses in a blade’s design, then a skilled fighter might be able to attack
them directly. He considered his own weapon, one giant piece of metal.
Anyone striking the blade sufficiently hard would numb
his entire arm; a serious disadvantage. The leather grip wrapped around the
hilt helped, though not to any significant degree. He would definitely need to
replace this blade sooner or later. But hadn’t Maddock mentioned that better
quality weapons were harder to find?
He became convinced that any weapons he ever used or
faced would be these low quality common blades until a thought rose through his
grim convictions. What about Maddock’s axe? Or Chatham’s sword? They
certainly did not fit his idea of common blades. Their silver surfaces shone
much brighter than the dull reflections off his own, yet the metal seemed colder
at the same time. Chatham’s hilt and the grip on Maddock’s axe appeared much
higher quality as well. The leather and metal almost blended as one. If they
were not common swords, what were they?
Obviously one type higher. High swords. Or high
weapons, actually. This agreed with his logic. As mercenaries, the men would
want to obtain the best possible weapons available. He decided to ask Maddock
later about where to obtain a better sword and reasonable prices for such.
While this all might be good to think about, to
Marik’s mind it was mostly academic. An iron edge separating your head from
your neck left you as dead as the best steel ever crafted. He suspected the
true reason Maddock had encouraged him to think was to get him into the
practice of using his brain.
When he had been younger, his father once told him, “A
man who uses his head is twice as effective as a man who doesn’t. It doesn’t
matter if you’re a fancy courtier or a blood-soaked soldier. It’s true in
everything a man does.”
So far he had never found reason to
to some trees which provided shade from the afternoon sun.
* * * * *
No one spoke later in the day during their continued
travels, which suited Marik. As Maddock had promised earlier, he remained
silent, giving Marik time to consider what he’d heard thus far. Harlan offered
a rare comment during their lunch to the effect that everything held deeper
ramifications than a person might see at first. A slight nod and thoughtful
expression from Maddock suggested he wanted Marik to think about what they had
spoken of in this manner.
Fine. Well, to start with, any weapons knowledge
would be useful to a fighter. That was the obvious one, so what was less
obvious? It was nice to talk about legendary weapons or blades crafted so fine
they seemed works of art but what were the odds of him, a commoner with no
claims to any noble title, ever seeing one much less owning it? Absolutely
none as far as Marik could see.
The only practical application he could see would be
in purchasing new weapons. Knowing the differences in steel qualities or
craftsmanship would help him choose the best one. That would also keep the
merchant from charging a higher price than the blade’s actual worth, except the
only blades he would likely find were the common ones; low quality and low
craftsmanship. In the cities he might be able to find finer quality blades at
the established shops, the high swords Maddock spoke of. It might be a good
idea to find a better sword when they came to a city of any size, considering
the blade he bore. A weapon might not make the fighter, and a skilled fighter
might be able to use even a low quality sword effectively, but obtaining the
best weapon available would certainly be a boon.
This led Marik’s thoughts in a new direction.
Recognizing the quality of an opponent’s blade might help him in a fight. That
could be an application of such knowledge. If one knew the particular
weaknesses in a blade’s design, then a skilled fighter might be able to attack
them directly. He considered his own weapon, one giant piece of metal.
Anyone striking the blade sufficiently hard would numb
his entire arm; a serious disadvantage. The leather grip wrapped around the
hilt helped, though not to any significant degree. He would definitely need to
replace this blade sooner or later. But hadn’t Maddock mentioned that better
quality weapons were harder to find?
He became convinced that any weapons he ever used or
faced would be these low quality common blades until a thought rose through his
grim convictions. What about Maddock’s axe? Or Chatham’s sword? They
certainly did not fit his idea of common blades. Their silver surfaces shone
much brighter than the dull reflections off his own, yet the metal seemed colder
at the same time. Chatham’s hilt and the grip on Maddock’s axe appeared much
higher quality as well. The leather and metal almost blended as one. If they
were not common swords, what were they?
Obviously one type higher. High swords. Or high
weapons, actually. This agreed with his logic. As mercenaries, the men would
want to obtain the best possible weapons available. He decided to ask Maddock
later about where to obtain a better sword and reasonable prices for such.
While this all might be good to think about, to
Marik’s mind it was mostly academic. An iron edge separating your head from
your neck left you as dead as the best steel ever crafted. He suspected the
true reason Maddock had encouraged him to think was to get him into the
practice of using his brain.
When he had been younger, his father once told him, “A
man who uses his head is twice as effective as a man who doesn’t. It doesn’t
matter if you’re a fancy courtier or a blood-soaked soldier. It’s true in
everything a man does.”
So far he had never found reason to
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