The sword master was a magician. Though the blades were made by hand with the finest of metals, they were infused with charms to protect the noble and betray those who had sold their souls. A real master, you see, cares enough to try to render their tools only of use to the good.
The details that mattered to the sword master could not even be detected by the untrained, not yet even by the seasoned apprentice who had attained some level of mastery themselves.
The sword master was typical of his lineage, living a well balanced and quiet lifestyle in the remote mountain range. Only those willing to make the journey to the master on foot themselves and show their sword-skills could earn the right to a sword, for they were not simply sold no matter the riches of the seeker.
They called him sword master, because his blades were the finest in all the known kingdom and beyond its boarders. No matter how the power shifted in the district, the master was always honoured.
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