Fatebringer

Francisque Wright always knew he wanted to become a noble and supportive military officer one day. With this dream in mind, he especially developed a strong interest for weapons and loved observing the blacksmith of his village when he was forging them.

This blacksmith, a true master of his craft, had devoted his entire life to the art of forging weapons. His goal was to create the perfect one-handed sword. But due to all of the distractions in the village, he was never able to achieve this goal. And so, he decided to build a forge high up in the mountains, where he could live and fully concentrate on his life goal.

As the years passed, the blacksmith's contact with the villagers slowly but surely faded away. Some firmly believed that the blacksmith had already succumbed to the harsh environment of frozen mountains paired with the heat of the forging fires and passed away. But Francisque could not help himself. He felt an ever-increasing restlessness. Something told him he had to look for the old blacksmith. And so, he went off into the mountains and started searching for the forge.

When he finally got to the forge and entered it, he immediately saw the blacksmith. He was leaning against his anvil, badly wounded and with his bloody sledgehammer in his hand. He was barely conscious, but still alive. Francisque Wright did not hesitate for a second. He bandaged the wounds, tied the blacksmith to his back with a large blanket, and started walking. To this day Francisque does not know how he managed to carry the wounded blacksmith down the mountain, but it saved his life.

Only a few days later, the blacksmith finally woke up again. After opening his eyes and some orientation, he immediately called for Francisque. And these are the words that he directed to him at that moment:

"Francisque … do you believe in fate? I had left the village and isolated myself to forge a masterpiece in the fires of the mountains, the likes of which nobody had ever seen before. And after years of work, I had finally achieved it. The very next morning, a wild animal strayed into my hut and attacked me. I could defend myself, but those wounds were bad. I remember asking myself: “Is this the end?” But when I almost lost my will to live, you suddenly appeared and … you saved my life. It was immediately clear to me that this had to be what they call fate. And it was fate that decided who would be permitted to proudly call this piece their own from now on:"

He straightened up in his bed, reached for an object wrapped in a sheet, and handed it to Francisque Wright. When he removed the sheet, a one-handed sword was revealed, which was of astonishing beauty and simplicity at the same time. As he grasped it, Francisque was abruptly filled with a strong energy, as if a soul had been forged into the sword. The steel of the blade had a deep silver hue and seemed to shine like the stars of the night sky. Every inch of the weapon was covered with tiny decorations and symbols that left no doubt about the masterful skill of the old blacksmith. The guard and handle were forged of gleaming gold and sparkled in the light like the sunlight on a lake.

As he saw Francisque with his life's work, the old blacksmith's eyes filled with tears of joy. With the last of his strength, he stood up, looked deeply into Francisque's eyes, and said:

"From this day forward, this one-handed sword shall be yours, Francisque Wright. The sword is an invincible symbol for courage, honor, and strength. So, carry it with pride and teach your opponents to fear it. Its name shall be ... Fatebringer"