The Tale of the Magebane

by Soleil Dragon aka Kaliph

This is the legend of the mystical Magebane, wielded by the Avatar and his companions during the times of the Black Gate and their quest to restore Balance to the Serpent Isle. But this great sword had a past as great and turbulent as the history of Sosaria itself.

The legend of the Magebane tells of Saervion, driven through almost fanatical thirst for vengeance, was responsible for the Magebane's creation, as it was to be his advocate to strike down his vengeance upon his tormentors. But the creation of the sword itself cost him more than he could have imagined, and afterwards, only cursed him and his kindred to the same fate...

It was during a quiet summer day along the polluted banks of Lock Lake that Etrian made his discovery. As he strolled along the eastern shores of the lake, looking for deer to hunt, that he spotted a faint glint of fine metal near the waterline. Etrian, a tall and well-built hunter from Cove, strode over to where he had seen the brief flash of white. Not three feet from the murky waters, he found, was an odd-looking sword if he had ever seen one. Tied to it with a gnarled piece of string, were several papers, bound together by a tattered backing. He set his fine Yew crossbow down beside him, and knelt down and retrieved the sword. He slit the makeshift book from its binding ropes with a quick jab of a knife he held concealed in his tunic. He raised the sword, and brandished it high, seeing that as the sun's rays struck it, the sword glinted in unearthly flashes of crimson and azure. For a sword of its size, it was surprising light to hold. As well, imbed to the the bottom of the grip of the sword, was a red gem, burning with crimson fires unseen to him. Curious, he thought. I wonder what this book may tell me. Setting it down, he turned to the book he found attached to the sword, and opened the tattered binding. Still elated by his discovery, he began to read...

To whomever so finds this,

You may never know of me, but I know of you, of fortunate discoverer. My name is Brean, proud fighter of the city Jhelom. You are undoubtedly amazed by the blade you have uncovered here on the shores of the lake, but permit me to tell you of its past. This is no ordinary sword, as you may have guessed. It possesses great and powerful magical abilities. But, there will be time for that, my friend. First, I must tell you how the great blade Magebane came to be.

Many generations ago, in the times preceding the First Age of Enlightenment, but after the defeat of the entity Exodus, there was a proud warrior of the city of Trinsic. His name is not important, but I shall reveal it to you, nevertheless. His name was Saervion, son of Yevaus. He was raised amongst the Paladins of Trinsic, though during his youth, he vowed never to swear himself to their order. However, his time with the Paladins taught him of Honor, Justice, Valor, Sacrifice, and other virtues that the wise Lord British was preparing to instill upon his people. This was before the cry for an Avatar, to show the people of the Virtues that he was to represent so proudly. Saervion's father, Yevaus, had been a Paladin, though he had been slain while on a crusade to purge the dungeon Deceit. Saervion was merely fifteen when this occurred, and his mother planted the seeds that lead to his renouncement of becoming a Paladin, though he still honored their kind. Though not amongst them, he continued to conciliate with them until he was of the age of twenty-one.

He relocated himself to Yew after his mother passed on in her home in Trinsic. In Yew, he served as a hunter, gaining proficiency with bow and axe, as he sold his meats to the locale tavern. Occasionally, he would venture to Britain, to the Farmer's Market, and vend some of his best prey. He learned much of how peasants, pourer than himself, lived in the large cities. As well, during this time, the stranger who had visited the land of Britannia thrice before returned, and undertook the Quest of the Avatar. Saervion would continue to retell of his brief meeting with the Avatar until the day of his death.

As the years passed, Saervion married a shepherd from the City of Humility, New Magincia. They lived together in their small home in Yew. When he was twenty-four, Saervion and his wife, Mhiran, traveled to the Lycaeum in Moonglow, a place Saervion had wanted to visit since his early youth, when he was told by his mother, who had lived in Moonglow, of the untold riches of knowledge that laid buried in the Great Library of the Lycaeum. During their stay in Moonglow, which was to last two weeks, Mhiran bore Saervion a son, though she died shortly thereafter.

Saddened by the loss of his wife, but overjoyed at the birth of his son, Saervion returned to Trinsic with the boy, to the house that he had lived in with his mother. There, he found, that his mother's dearest friend had watched over the house since she had died three years prior. She was all too happy to relinquish the dwelling to the son of Rianna, and her new grandson. Under the eyes of the housekeeper Firhin, Saervion left for Yew, returning shortly later with his possessions from Yew. Saervion kept his home in Yew, hoping to pass it on to his son.

As Saervion's son, named aptly Bradley after Saervion's father, grew into manhood, Saervion learned that he had a brother. Firhin had been told not to reveal this to Saervion until his son or daughter, whichever it may be, had grown to the age of twelve. Rianna told Firhin this on her deathbed, and Firhin saw that she would live to tell this to Saervion. Saervion's brother, named Thomas, lived in a small village to the east of Minoc, called Dreadmoor. Despite the harsh name, it was a pleasant place, Saervion found, as he and his son spent three years there living with Thomas. During that time, both father and son grew incredibly fond of Thomas. Saervion and Bradley left one night to return to Trinsic to bring some of their father's greatest treasures back to show Thomas. While they were several miles away from the village, they saw a great burning fire rising from the village of Dreadmoor. Smoke filled the air, and as the father and his son raced back to the town, they heard unearthly shrieks and cries resounding through the cold night air.

When they reached the town, near daybreak, almost nothing remained. The wooden house had been burnt to the ground, fire consumed the trees near the town, and flames covered nearly everything flammable they could see. Cruel black smoke wafted above them, the remains of whatever had occurred, almost as if it were taunting them. The villagers lay on the scorched earth, slain by some unseen force, or burned by the savage flames. They found Thomas' house burned far worse then the rest, nearly nothing remaining. Near the door, they found Thomas, clinging on to life as if it were a rope hanging over an unending abyss. He breathed sporadically, rasping for the life giving air which had been polluted with deathly smoke.

"What happened here?" Saervion asked solemnly.

"The Order," came the barely audible reply. "Burnt the village...for..." he trailed off, coughing and weazing. "The Talisman of..." his head began to fall limp, and Saervion knew death was near for his brother "the Ether". And Thomas' head finally rested on the blackened earth, as if his only purpose to retaining life was to tell him this.

The Talisman of the Ether.

The Order.

Those two thoughts were all that rambled inside Saervion's grievous mind as he returned to Trinsic. I must have my revenge, for the Honor of my lost brother. Such was Saervion's resolve.

He traveled to Britain, leaving Bradley in Trinsic with Firhin. He had not been in Britain since he had lived in Yew fifteen years ago. He was astonished at how the city had grown since then, and by the renewed Castle British. There, he spoke with one of Lord British's councilman, Garrey. Garrey told him of the Order, a strange band of wizened mages that resided within an obsidian citadel in the forests near Minoc. They seemed to be of little concern, and only wished to heighten the knowledge of the mages of Britannia. He also inquired about the Talisman of the Ether, but Garrey knew not of it. He did, however, tell him to speak with Nystul, one of British's mages, about it.

Nystul told Saervion of the Talisman of the Ether. Nystul had always believed that the talisman was mythical, supposedly plucked from the Ethereal Void by a Sosarian mage long before. It was said that it absorbed all of the ethereal waves it came in contact with, shielding its possessor. As well, with each energy it absorbed, it only grew in power. It was also said that if enough of this energy was absorbed, it could be released, on a single focus, or a broad spectrum of them. It could either completely destroy one thing, matter and all, or, worse, purge the land of Britannia of whatever the possessor saw fit.

Nystul described its appearance to Saervion, as well as showing him an ancient diagram. It was a triangular object, a perfect red triangle from with a band of thread held a burning red gem. This was the Ethergem, where the talisman focused its energies. Nystul said he knew naught of its mythical location. He did, however, say that Rudyom, a mage of Cove, possessed a crystal ball, which may show him of its whereabouts. Saervion thanked the mage, and set off for Cove.

Know this, wielder of the great sword Magebane, the great Ethergem is what burns within the grip of the sword. It is where the sword is granted its ensorcerous energies. The gem is indestructible, as ancient Sosarian legend tells. Oh, I have tried to destroy it. But fire, nor steel, nor the the depths of Hades can remove this artifact. As well, its powers have leaked into the blade, leaving it impermeable as well. The blade is not subject to rusting, cracking, wear, or any form of entropy or destruction that you or I canst devise. This Fire that is the sword Magebane is in our world to stay. It cannot be banished to the Void, as well. The Void seems unwilling to reaccept its gem, or the form that holds it. Know this, and guard this knowledge well, my friend.

In Cove, Saervion learned that Rudyom was not at his home. Nor did any know when he would return. Desperate, Saervion forced his way into Rudyom's dwelling one dark night, and found his crystal ball. Almost as if the ball wanted to reveal the Talisman of the Ether to Saervion, it immediately light up as he entered, and showed him the house of brother in Dreadmoor. There, amongst the blackened ashes, buried in a pile of smoldered debris, he saw a burning flicker, very faint, but it was there. That was what the Order wanted with Dreadmoor! He thought. They missed it! And I will have it, and instill my fury upon them!

Not as soon as he had told these things to himself, the guards of Cove arrested Saervion, and he was sentenced to nine years in the prison at Yew for breaking-and-entering. Saervion was tossed into a dark cell in the bowels of the compound, and told he would not see the light of day until Britannia passed around the sun nine times over.

Mad at himself, he spent three months in prison, knowing it was but a beginning to his suffering. But, one morning, a guard paced through the row of cells, and Saervion immediately recognized him, despite the dim torchlight.

"Norston!" he cried, "What are you doing here?" The guard twirled around and faced him, from where he peered through the bars of his cell door. The man looked surprised, but more shocked.

"Saervion? Why are you in prison? What could you have done?" He paused, "you're the last person I ever expected to see in here."

"Never mind that," Saervion said, "do you remember when I pulled you and your family from your home while is burned?" Saervion remembered the events, sixteen years prior. His fellow hunter's house had caught to flame, and Norston and his wife and two children had been trapped within. Saervion had dashed inside, unerringly, and pulled them from the home that nearly became their pyre. He still had the scar on his left leg..."Do you remember what you told me after that?"

"Yes," Norston said, nearly in tears "I said that should you ever need my help, my life was yours..." he paused. Immediately, he torn the Crescent of Guardsmanship from his tunic, and hastened to unlock Saervion's cell. "This is my repayment. I can only hope your cause is noble and your imprisonment misjudged."

"Believe me, Norston," he said, leaving the cell, "They are. And I thank you," he said, and he dashed down the corridor and out the stairwell leading to the back exit. Norston stood there, knowing his friend of so long away was right.

Saervion traveled to Minoc, and sent a quick letter to his son in Trinsic to tell him of his imprisonment and his impending return. He also told him of the Talisman and the Order. He then returned to the firespent village of Dreadmoor. The place was abandoned, all life seeking a better place to live had left. No birds sang. No crickets chirped. Only the wind was his companion, tousling smoldered logs, and picking up ashes and spreading them over the area. He found his brother's home, found the makeshift grave they had prepared for him. He searched the house, and found the shimmering Ethergem and the Talisman of the Ether, exactly where Rudyom's crystal ball had pointed it out. He raised it high, clutched it in his hand, and made his resolve: Now they must pay!

However, Saervion was not as overzealous as I may portray. He did not intend to bash down the doors of the Obsidian Citadel with his own two hands, run everyone of the acolytes of the Order through and utterly destroy whomsoever controlled the Order's minions with the Ethergem. He knew better than that.

He knew that the gem could shield him, but he did not know how. Nystul in Britain seemed to know naught of it either, though he was astonished that the talisman existed. Someone in Moonglow must know, he thought. Or else the Lycaeum may tell me. I will return to Trinsic, to my son, and take him with me. We will go by ship, he decided, I know a sailor in Trinsic who will take me there.

But things did not go as Saervion designed. On his way along the road to Trinsic, just slightly south of Paws, he came across a small shop, obviously constructed during his imprisonment in Yew. In runic letters, a sign hung above the door, MAGICKAL CURIOS AND SPELLS, it read. He decided to visit whoever ran the shop.

The man inside was an elderly mage, dressed in a white, flowing robe with a staff he used to walk with, though Saervion did not doubt it had other uses as well. The mage seemed to be fairly knowledgeable, and Saervion was amazed at some of the oddities he had collected, as well as the abundance of reagents. He also noted a small paper laying on a table which read: "Request: Enchant scimitar. Requires more damage and swiftness. Will pay 300 gold pieces."

"Do you enchant weapons" he asked.

"As time permits, yes," came the reply.

"Could you focus this into a sword," he inquired, producing the Talisman of the Ether.

"By the Avatar..." the man said in astonishment, "That is the Talisman of the Ether!"

"Can you do it?"

"I believe so. My father told me that his goal in life was to find that talisman and imbue it to a sword of shield. He taught me how he intended to do it."

"Great..." Saervion said, but he was interrupted.

"But it will take a great deal of labor on both our parts," he said. Saervion looked at him, puzzled. "The sword must be made of cadellite, an ore found only on the Isle Ambrosia." Saervion had never heard of the place. "Here, let me show you," the man said, and he walked to the back of the shop. Sifting through the contents of a chest. "This map," he said as he held up a piece of gnarled paper, "Is at least from the times of Exodus' demise. Here," he pointed to a small island, "this is the place." Saervion looked at his own Britannian map, and saw that the place was covered by his compass rose. Strange, he thought. Almost as if Lord British was trying to cover this up.

"You must take the cadellite to Zacaran, a blacksmith in Vesper. Tell him to fashion a sword from it. You must also tell him to leave a space at the bottom of the grip for the gem. Then we shall see about enchanting the sword." Saervion began to walk out of the shop, when he turned and still saw the man looking at the map. "You know," he said, "this map was given to me by a fighter a long time ago. He had his gold stolen, and he had nothing to pay me with for the armor I enchanted. So he gave me this. What will you call your blade, the blade that will be the bane of mages."


"The sword will absorb magical energies. You will be untouchable to magics. What will you call your sword? All great swords have names- Quicksword, the fabled Erinon's Axe-"

"What of Magebane" Saervion said, he liked the sound of that. Magebane.

"A good name. Go, you must journey to Ambrosia."

And so he did. He returned to Trinsic and retrieved his armor, his shield, and the greatsword his father had passed on to him. He also purchased a set of leggings, arm guards, and a helm, as well as a fine pair of boots. He told his son where he was going, and why. He also told him why he could not join him. Bradley accepted, and obeyed his father. He told him that he would wait for him in Trinsic.

Saervion sought out on of his childhood friends, a sailor, Kallan. Kallan was lived in a small house near the docks of Trinsic, and was overjoyed to see his old friend after so many years. Kallan agreed to take Saervion to Ambrosia, after he had told him of what had transpired. Soon thereafter, they set off for the island.

Upon reaching Ambrosia, Kallan stayed with his ship, and Saervion descended into what was apparently a mine. He slashed his way through several levels of the mine's defenders-horrible creatures he had not seen since his days with the Trinsician Paladins. Upon reaching the lowest level, he found a large deposit of the ore the wizened mage had spoke of-cadellite. I shall have to ask my mage friend his name, he thought as he hacked out the ore with his sword, stuffing it into his pack. He took as much as he could carry and hastened to the surface.

From there, Kallan took him to the seaport Vesper, near the Desert Sands. There he found Zacaran, and for 100 gold pieces, he fashioned Saervion a fine blade of cadellite, with the proper indentation for the Ethergem. It was curved like a scimitar, only much wider, and much shorter. Zacaran said it was one of his personal designs, and would perform admirably in combat. Saervion took the remaining cadellite and the Banesword, as he would call it until its enchantment, to Paws, where he traveled south until he found the mage's shop.

"Hello, my friend" the mage said as Saervion entered. "Well, what have you brought me from the Pit of Ambrosia?"

"This," he said, brandishing the sword high, "For now, I call it, Banesword."

"An impressive piece of handiwork. Now, let us see if we can enchant your Banesword." He strode over to where Saervion stood, and took the sword from him. Saervion, while the mage walked to the back of the shop, asked his name. The mage only smiled, and said that he may call him Marinias, saying it meant "Keeper of the Ancient Gates" in some long-forgotten tongue.

Saervion followed Marinias into a backroom, very dark, and unlit by any means. At least, until, Marinias muttered the words "In Lor" and all was bright as the noon-day sun. Saervion never knew much of magic. His knowledge never extended further then several linear spells and the life-saving "In Mani" spell of healing, and he always kept some ginseng and spider's silk on him just for that purpose. But he knew the ancient words of power, and knew that what Marinias said meant "Create Light".

Marinias placed the sword upon the table, and took the Talisman of the Ether from Saervion. With a small dagger, he cut the band that tied the Ethergem to the talisman, and fitted the gem within the notch at the grip. Marinias then produced a bag of reagents and a spellbook from within his robes. He then chanted "In Ort Ylem" while waving his hands over the Banesword. A shimmering glow of crimson came over the sword, but only briefly, and Marinias panted, and exhaled, and turned to Saervion.

"I cannot do this" he said. "The sword will not hold the energies of the Ethergem. Even when I did transfer the powers, the cadellite merely lost hold of the power." He shook his head, "Something must be found that can."

"What if you had the essence of life?" he asked, "the power of a human soul to bind the ensorcerous energies to the sword?" Despite Saervion's limited knowledge of magic, he had indeed heard of brave men sacrificing themselves to enchant a weapon or piece of armor.

"Yes, it could work" Marinias said "But the 'sacrificial lamb', if you will, would be forever enslaved within the sword. As well, it requires only the purest, most determined soul to keep the sword imbed with the power of the Ethergem."

Then suddenly Saervion knew what he must do.

"I will return tomorrow," he said."Be ready to perform the rite then."

Saervion walked the relatively short distance to Trinsic, having told Kallan to return to Trinsic. He told his son that he must follow him when day broke, and that he must be ready for whatever was to happen. Bewildered, his son looked at him puzzled, but he obeyed. Saervion also told him that, for some reason, Saervion was unable, he was to continue the Vengeful Quest, as he called it, to inspite revenge upon the Order.

When dawn broke, he paid his thanks to Firhin, and took his son with him up to Marinias' shop. There, Marinias had the look about him of an executioner, but nevertheless, he welcomed Saervion and young Bradley. Suddenly, Saervion knelt on the floor and said "Perform the rite, Marinias."

The mage chanted several words of power, and the Banesword rose from its place on the table, hovering above Saervion's back, tip down. The blade flashed, and a thunderous sound began to be heard.

Suddenly, what was happening finally clicked inside Bradley's mind. He too, had heard of sacrifices made to enchant artifacts. But not his father, certainly no.

Then Bradley knew what it was that he must do.

The blade began to come down to where Saervion knelt, and Bradley rushed up beside him, and with all his might, he thrust his father to the side, and lay beneath the falling sword in Saervion's place.

And the blade came down upon him.

There was a flash like lightning, leaving Saervion and Marinias blinded. When they recovered, all they saw was the the enchanted Banesword, now Magebane, shimmering with the same crimson glow of the Ethergem. And nothing left of poor Bradley.

The losses of his brother and his son, compounded by the old pains of the deaths of his wife, and parents, Saervion abandoned his Vengeful Quest for a time, seeking the solace of his old home in the Woods of Yew. The old home brought up stirring feelings from inside him, remembering the times before his son, his poor son, was born.

But then, nearly a year after Bradley's sacrifice, he remembered what Marinias had said. "The lamb will be forever enslaved within the sword." No, no, he thought, enslaved is not the word. Contained, held, protected, kept within the sword. Bradley was still there, bound to his weapon, holding the power of the Ethergem to the cadellite blade. And he resolved never to have his sword leave his side again. And he would use it for the purpose that he had intended to.

Saervion had turned forty, on this day. The day he rode up to the Obsidian Citadel on horse to challenge the Order. But with his burning sword, the Magebane, and his son beside him, he would pay his regards to the cause that took the lives of his brother and his son. He remembered what Marinias told him the sword was capable of after Bradley's death. "It will render the magical powers of any mage in the area useless. And even if they should, the Ethergem will only contain the ethereal waves being used against you. Any person with magical abilities that this blade draws blood from will forever lose there ability to use and wield that magic. And, finally, your blade can never be destroyed."

These are the capabilities of the blade you now possess, my friend. Use them wisely. And, for the sake of the poor Bradley, still dwelling within the Magebane, do not allow this sword to fall into the wrong hands. For it may cause you and others the same misfortune it caused Saervion. Or, if used wisely, it may cause you the same benefits it did the day of his crusade.

A short mage stood before him, enshrouded in a long brown robe, guarding the great wooden doors. With nary a question, the mage immediately began to cast an offensive spell upon Saervion. As he did so, he found, to his dismay, that his effort was fruitless. His spell sputtered and died before him, and Saervion rode past, and slashed him along the stomach, and rode on as the mage fell.

However. before him stood a great obstacle, one he met with equal greatness. Taking the sword, he swung it with all his might against the great wooden doors. Even with the smallest notch made in the wood, like a hatchet cutting down the tree, the wood splintered. And it splintered, and fell into thousands of pieces before him, all from one blow. He couldn't believe it, it was almost as if the spirit of Bradley had willed those doors, those two doors nearly twenty feet high, to fall, and allow him entrance. Without hesitation, he proceeded.

As he continued along the dark corridor, he met up with dozens of the Order's acolytes, all bemused at their inability to harm him. With speed, they all fell before him. Although the corridor continued straight and true, he saw passages darting off in all directions through the dim torchlight. But he continued along straight, nevertheless.

And when he reached the end, he had his reward. The thin corridor gave way to an immense hall, all brilliantly lit with burning torches. Great stain-glass windows hung at either side, filtering discolored light through their elaborate designs.

And ahead of him, at the very end of the great hall and the regal red carpet, there was a pedestal, and on that pedestal sat the Head of the Order, as he surmised, by the tapestry hanging behind him. Embroidered in runic letters, it said "Our Excellency, The Head of the Order". As he read it, a flame passed though him, and he knew he must rid Britannia of this evil. The evil that demanded possession of the Ethergem for one reason alone, destruction. He had thought of this many times. The only thing the Order could want with this was to either destroy all life, or eliminate the good Lord British and rule in his place with a fist of iron. And he must stop them. As well as repay this Order for the loss of his brother and son.

He stepped forward, and suddenly, his presence become known to the Head.

"Who goes there" came the voice, echoing through the hall.

"I am Saervion," he said "And I have come to have my revenge upon you and your minions, for killing my brother in your raid on Dreadmoor."

"Do not toy with me, foolish Saervion" came the taunting reply. "I am powerful. And it is I who shall have revenge." He tried to cast, but it failed, as had the rest of his acolytes attempts. "What power is this that binds my magic? You! You possess the Talisman of the Ether, do you not?"

"Indeed I do, taken from my brother's home in Dreadmoor."

"Then I must have it!" he said, as he launched himself from his pedestal and landed on the carpet before Saervion. He drew a Greatsword from a sheath at his side, and threw himself at Saervion.

But as they fought, Saervion gained the advantage. He was a far more accomplished fencer than this Head, whatever his name. And he had a rage upon him. Saervion struck a blow to the Head's sword so hard, it was knocked from his hands, and flew until it came to a metallic crash on the floor. The Head himself was knocked over, and he lay at Saervion's feet.

"I warn you," the Head said, "some of my magic does not evade me. Should you strike me down with your weapon, I shall have my vengeance upon you! I curse you! Should I die by your sword, for the rest of your life, you will be unable to wield it again! For seven generations, your kin shall suffer the same curse!" The words came almost like a great blow to Saervion's side. "Strike, and it shall be."

And Saervion brandished the sword high, the torchlight glinting off the cadellite blade brilliantly, and before the blade came crashing down in a fatal blow to the Head of the Order, he exclaimed, "Then it shall be!"

And that, my friend, wielder of the great Magebane, is how this sword came about. I know, as the tale has been passed along from son to son, the heirs of the Magebane, though unable to wield it. I know this, as I am the seventh generation of the House of Saervion. Afterwards, Saervion married again, and was given another son to pass on the line. But, alas, I shall not marry, and shall not have a son to pass the Magebane onto, though he would be the first since that time to brandish it. I, Brean of Jhelom, was disfigured horribly during an accident involving a cart carrying gunpowder that killed my parents. For thirty years, I have worn my scars, but I can find no one to marry. No one will look beneath the horrible wounds of my youth. And so, my friend, I pass the sword along to you. I know that you will make good use of it, as I already know you. I must go now, as the great Unending Sleep of Death is upon me. Farewell.

-Brean of Jhelom

Etrian the hunter looked up from the book. The sun was setting over Lock Lake, and he knew that he must retain to his home in Cove, to his own family, with his treasure. He looked over, beyond where the Magebane lay, near the bank of the lake. There, half hidden in the reeds and lake growth, laid a withered skeleton, wrapped in an elaborate blanket. Brean, he thought. How long has he been here?

He turned, and began to return to Cove. But as he did, he knew that he had no use of this sword. But someone else might, and turn it to a good and virtuous purpose. I know of one, he said to himself. Tomorrow, he would leave Cove, and travel to Britain. Perhaps Lord British can find a better use of this sword than I.

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