The Last Saber

Artonomo studied what used to be his his most valued room in the house.

There were many days he spent here. Days that quickly turned into nights, and even back again.

A thick layer of dust had settled on his workshop. The dust seemed rather peaceful there. It seemed like a shame to disturb. As much as the tools were his friend, the dust was also sharing the same kinship.

Most of his workspace was made of wood, but there were a few metal tables, contraptions, and other tools he made by hand. Centered around the back was a large forge and the tools necessary to keep the flames afloat. He normally had plenty of wood on hand, but in its last days he only brought to the shop what he needed, and the rest stored in his home.

He probably spent more time working here, and a good half of the time he was debating whether he should be in here.

Out of the corner of his eye his failing eyes caught a glimmer of an old relic from his past.

His first saber. Or at least the first saber that people took him seriously with.

He actually built quite a few beforehand. Some he thought would be valued but instead were mocked heavily for imperfections known and unknown to his craft.

Many years ago, he tossed his cloth down in the pile after a final buff of what he knew was his last saber. The young officer eager to accept his new “tool.” It saddened Artonomo deeply when he referred his masterpiece as a mere tool. Was that the only thing his work was good for? A blunt object to throw in another mans chest? Memories of officers with deep military roots that knew his families name often cherished even to hear the words “I will make you the saber.” Hearing a young kid who had no less years than his shovel say “that'll do” seemed to do more damage than that blade would ever do in somebody else chest.

Artonomo at first was going to grab his saber, but decided to leave it sheaved. He did not want to wake his old friend.

“You seem content here.” The words startled Artonomo. “You have this look like you belong here.”

“Perhaps.” Artonomo said turning to greet his guest who appeared through the doorway of his shop. He only saw his silhouette but he had a good idea who it would be.

What appeared when he stepped inside was an older man, much like Artonomo, except a lot more torn by war than by labor.

“I'm glad to see you got my letter.” motioning to the envelope that was notably placed on the table as it was the only object around that hadn't collected dust. Artonomo didn't recall setting the letter down anywhere, nor did he remember bringing it it with him.

Finally as the old guest stepped in he shared the same light as Artonomo. He walked over to shake his hand.

“Greetings old friend.”

“Likewise General.”spoke Artonomo to the man. The man was in his finest military fatigues. Ones that have seen more offices than battles. There were enough medals and commendations to say that he's earned the rights t his gold bars.

“It's been a while since I saw you with holding your tools.” motioning to Artonomo who placed an old hammer in his hand, shaking off the cobwebs. After getting the dust off of his old tool he placed it back on the rack also covered with dust; almost making his cleaning unnecessary.

“I remember the last time I picked up this tool. It was for that young officer, What was his name again?” joked The General.

“Does he still have my sword?” asked Artonomo.

“No, I think it laid with his last victim. He was a dams fool with that death stick! On a good day he might be slightly better with your blade, but he's even worse with that piece of trash! It's probably best he never uses it anymore. He seems to only draw it out at taverns when he's looking to impress ladies!” the General giggled slightly, hoping to ease Artonomo's comforts with humor. Seeing as it was not going to work he coughed and tried to change topics.

“I assume you know why I came here.”

“Yes.” said Artonomo who dusted off two stools to converse on. He motioned for the General to sit, but he remained standing. Artonomo did the same.

“May I ask for some water?” asked the General, coughing a tad to facilitate his request.

“I'll have to grab a glass from the kitchen.” said Artonomo as he headed to the kitchen.

“You know what, I'll come with you.” The General said, secretly hoping that the change of scenery will change the mood. The General followed Artonomo into the much better lit kitchen. Artonomo pulled out a chair as he made his way to the water pitcher. There was just enough for one glass, so out of courtesy alone he handed the filled cup to the General, and went to refill the pitcher.

“I need a new saber.” burst out The General, who was still standing. The only person really surprised at the statement seemed to be The General; he was surprised he was able to burst out what he was holding in as quickly and easily as he did. Artonomo only breathed a sigh of relief as he knew that the request coming out sooner or later.

“I'm retired.” said Artonomo, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, yes. I know. But I was really hoping you would- “

“If you're looking for your old sword, I believe it was found not to far away from here.” Interrupted Artonomo.

“I know. But you have to listen to me.”

“I'm retired.” repeated Artonomo, although he knew his words fell on death ears.

Artonomo was finally quite surprised when silence filled the room instead of the expected rebbutle.

Finally The General spoke in an even quieter tone, barely audible.

“I've come to avenge your wife's murderer.”

The silence fell even heavier. There was such a stillness it seemed like nothing was going to break it. In a moment that seemed like it could have been a few seconds or several minutes the silence was finally broken when a clearly shaken Artonomo dropped his cup, pouring a quite full glass on the floor.

“I'm sorry!” burst The General. He walked quickly to the spillage, only to have Artonomo raise his hand in protest.

In respect The General stepped back. He continued to petition.

“I know that you retired from your craft after your wife's murder.”

“I did not retire from making weapons of destruction! I retired from destruction itself!” bursted Artonomo.

“I always knew what I made did not create life, but ended it! I knew the destructive power of what was into my craft! For many years I would look at the beauty of my hands work! I would marvel how it shimmered and shined! Knowing for well it was only going to be used for destruction!”

Silence, The General realized was the only thing appropriate to fill the space.

“I'm sorry, my emotions got the better of me.” said Artonomo finally as he moved to lean on a nearby pillar.

“I knew you grieved for your wife, yet it's hard to know how much until you experienced it yourself.”

“You seek out the murderer of my wife?” asked Artonomo.

“You know who it is.” said The General.

“It haunts me to this day.”

“Then allow me to put your pain to rest! Allow me to finish what you wanted to do but couldn't! You were the artist! You cherished beauty above all! You saw no beauty in destruction though! Now allow me to use what I call beautiful to end your torment and your anger!”

The words from The General were even louder than volume spoken. They seemed to be the loudest ever spoken.

The General spoke once again, trying to quiet his voice.

“I know your heart aches. I know your eyes, hands and back fails you. But I am asking you to make the blade that you have wanted to make for so many years! The one you wanted to put in the chest of your greatest enemy for so long! Will you make one last- “

“It is done.”

“What?” asked the startled General.

“After I saw the murder of my wife, I made the blade that I know would avenge her.”

“I see, but I'- ”

“I made it solely in the cover of night. When those around me laid sleeping. As far as anybody knew my last sword was for the young kid, but I made my final blade and laid my tools down to rest.”

Artonomo returned to the shop, The General followed but waited in the doorway. Artonomo went through a pile of rags and brought to the table a long box. After fidgeting with the lock for longer than Artonomo had intended he opened the box to reveal the saber.

The blade was unlike anything The General saw before. There was an unnatural shimmer from the blade. Every stroke seemed it was so sharp that it could literally cut through the sunlight. The handle was made from white gold, and blue gold. Something that as far as the General knew had never been made before. The General knew he was not looking at a mere saber, but it had evolved from being an art work to a piece of the divine.

Whether it was from the light or the dark side was something only the sword bearer would decide.

Artonomo placed the blade on his hand and presented it to The General.

Only by holding the blade could The General fully understand the beauty, the passion, and the divinity of what he possessed.

“I'm.....I'm.......I'm actually speechless.” wept The General.

“Take it. It's yours.” replied Artonomo as he re-sheaved the blade and handed it over to The General.

“Well, yes, I suppose there is a matter of payment. I have an offering that I hope you will find satisfactory.....” spoke The General as he motioned to a small chest that was recently placed by the doorway.

“The money is not necessary.”

“Oh, please take it! I could not bear to take such a prized possession without payment!”

“No. It's yours.” Artonomo persisted.

There was more of the treasured silence that filled the air. Even though it felt like the business was concluded, it also felt that this was not the appropriate time to socialize.

“Um. Well I guess there's nothing more to say then.” Said the General. He took a couple small gulps of his water to finish it off and returned the glass to Artonomo. He accepted the glass and offered The General a parting handshake.

“I wish you godspeed on your quest.”

“Thank you.” replied The General somberly.

The General exited , leaving the chest of gold behind.

Artonomo waited in the doorway. Seeing The General as he left. Afterwards he returned to his pitcher to refill his cup. He paused and dropped his cup.

The cries screeched could be heard for miles. There was an unearthly horror from the tears that were cried. Even the nature around took notice. Not just the birds and animals, but even the trees and flowers seemed to wilt after hearing such painful cries.

Yet the day had to begin properly......

Even through the interruption of company and wails, the day needed to begin.

Artonomo wiping off hi tears on his shirt sleeve reached for a small knife and walked of towards the lilac field. He pruned a small bouquet that was wrapped in the letter that never left the sight of Artonomo the entire day.

He walked over to his wife's grave that was marked with a saber.

The second last saber he ever made.

The one that murdered his wife.

He laid the flowers at her grave and read the note aloud to himself:

'My Dear Artonomo,

It is with great regret that I inform you that your wife is to be tried and executed immediately under the charge of treason by the order of The King.

I know you spoke many times of her innocence, and I personally petitioned to the Royal Authorities based on your service to the Crown from your blacksmiths abilities, the evidence was too overwhelming and the courts demanded that justice be served.

I have personally asked to be the executor in this crime as it would not be appropriate to have a stranger execute your beloved.

Please accept my sincerest apologies.

Sincerely,

The Lieutenant.'

Reading the words once again caused a swell of emotion that flowed through Artonomo. Enough that he almost tripped over the last sword he ever made.

The sword that now laid through the recently departed General.

The same General, that was promoted from being a young naive Lieutenant, that his second last blade belonged to.

The one that murdered his wife.