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24 lines
1.7 KiB
Plaintext
24 lines
1.7 KiB
Plaintext
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This crimson polearm has seen countless battles, and has borne witness to a certain gladiator's valor.
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Its ice-cold tip was often drenched in the blood of its foes, to the thunderous applause of the crowd.
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Bloodstained was the gladiator's fate, and freedom, so near yet so far, was often balanced on a knife's edge.
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The dull sound of that crimson tip piercing flesh was many a battle's death-knell.
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As the gladiator's final performance ended, their master spoke up amidst the thunderous applause:
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"The promised number has been met. You have done well, and are a warrior worthy of great renown."
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"Consider this weapon to be a parting gift... Yet, would you not consider fighting on?"
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"Continue your brilliant performance as a free person, for your glory and for mine. What say you?"
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Many years past, and the beasts and men who fell to that spear grew too numerous to count.
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The duelist's weapon became known as undefeated, but his heart belonged to his young master.
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As the gladiator's final performance ended, amidst thunderous applause,
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His weapon fell to the bloodied sand as the red-haired maiden's scorching blade pierced the old warrior's heart.
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As he fell, despondent, he turned his eyes to his beloved master, his noble lord who cherished him...
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"Eberhart, Master Eberhart... Did my final performance please you?"
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But his master's seat was empty, save for a wine goblet and silver platter, toppled in haste.
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"At first, I fought for myself, for blood and battle-lust."
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"But since a time I know not when, I have killed for my master."
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"Only for the sake of others can we fight like wild beasts without care."
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"Someone like you, who fights for her people and not for herself... Surely, you understand this as well."
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