Swords were all he had. All he knew. Cold metal killers, arrayed in all their myriad forms across his vast armoury. He hoarded them at great expense and commissioned strange blades to fit in the niche gaps of his collection. But not once did he swing one with any intent. Not once did he draw blood. The war came after his death, his sons fighting over the inheritance of a thousand unused blades. They mostly used spears.
Paddy Dobson
6th July 2023