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21 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
21 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
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A lance once kept in the collection of a noble who ruled over Mondstadt. A product of premium materials and masterful artisanship.
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For that reason, it remains sharp as it was on the day it was first forge, even many generations after the nobles' time ended.
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But back in the era of the nobility, this weapon never saw the light of day, and bathed only in the pale moonlight.
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The nobles believed that those of high blood should use swords in battle.
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To them, the sound of blades clashing was the chorus the lofty souls.
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The spear and the bow, on the other hand, were the weapons of plebeian gladiators and commoners.
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Commoners with pitchforks and sharpened wooden poles, after all, could yet be a match for sword-wielding scions of nobility.
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This was, undoubtedly, a hard pill for the rulers of Old Mondstadt to swallow.
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Legend has it that there was also a youth of noble stock,
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Who sought out a smith to make this weapon, emblazoned with their house's crest,
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And yet which, like this youth, could never earn the favor of his family...
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No, not without the spilling of blood.
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If that youth wanted change to come, they needed power.
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Even if it meant using a weapon seen as ignoble.
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Even if it meant that their spear-wielding shadow could never see any light but that of the deep night's moon.
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