The Blue Falcon - Part 1 (Part 2)Mature

Griever swallowed, finding it hard to make his mouth wet. “Bashenthar… You’re the Gear?”

‘Indeed,” the Gear said, “Though, now that I think about it, Bashenthar is a bit of a mouthful. Don’t you agree? Let’s just go with Bash. Plus, that makes me sound cool.” The voice laughed, making Griever shiver a little.

“So the man was telling the truth…” Griever cursed. That meant that Captain White really was…

‘Probably. I only saw a little through your memories, but it looked to organized to leave survivors.’

“I still have to see it,” Greiver told the Gear. He was surprised that he was handling this so well. His grandfather was said to have used a magical sword made for killing fae, so maybe that was another true story.

‘What will you do when you see it?’

Griever grunted and started clothing himself in the simple tunic and boots that had been left for him. He had thought they were his but the boots were too big and the tunic too small. It bothered him, but he ignored it. “I already told you.”

‘Ahh,’ Bash mused, ‘To break this lord’s neck or something right? Sounds dull, honestly. Lords aren’t good fighters usually.’

Instead of being the ‘mysterious and awe inspiring magical artifact,’ Griever found Bash to be a little annoying. Almost like a recruit who hadn’t tasted battle yet. “Let’s go.”

‘Alright, but you know I can hear your thoughts right?’

“Seems like everyone can these days,” Griever growled and started walking in a random direction. He needed to find out where he was first. Having fought in the area between Abysma and Lighthaven for the last few years, Griever was confident he could find his way.

‘I, the Lord of Wounds, am not annoying! I was created from the band of King Schujerkarmen himself! My magic exceeds anything than you have ever dreamt of! Quite honestly, I am also very knowledgeable. I know more about human culture than most humans do and find that I can recite most of the known songs in both human language and Fae! Also, I’ll have you know that-‘

“Bash!” Griever shouted, anger bubbling. “If you’re so smart, then why don’t you tell me what annoying actually means?”

The Gear seemed to hesitate. ‘Oh, of course! It means to cause irritation or annoyance through means of-‘

“And what are you doing, Mr. Scholar?” Griever asked, cutting Bash off.

‘Ah, I can see how you would find that quite annoying, I suppose…’

“Glad we can agree on something.” Was that a path or just a coincidence in how the trees grew? “Now can I get some answers from you?”

‘Of course!’ Bash all but shouted in excitement. ‘I can answer anything, as I am knowledgeable about nearly everything this world has to offer!’

“Good for you,” Griever muttered. “I understand you’re some kind of Fae weapon-“

‘More like artifact.’

“-with magic powers and stuff-“

‘That makes it sound dull.’

“-but my question is why were you made?”

Silence answered him. Given the Gear’s willingness to talk, it was odd. Griever should have asked him this earlier if it was going to shut him up like this. He was not only getting used to the idea of a disembodied voice in his head, but also annoyed with it. Damn that hooded man!

‘That’s a good question,’ Bash said slowly, breaking the brief moment of silence. ‘But, my dear Bonded, is a question best left unanswered for now, as I would rather you learn it for yourself that have me-‘

“You don’t know,” Griever interrupted.

‘What!? Of course I know! I mean… I’m the Lord of Wounds! I know everything there is to know! I just… ah… want you to learn for yourself. It builds character, as you humans say.’

Griever groaned. This ‘Gear’ was going to be more trouble than he was worth. Wait, was he worth anything? The metal didn’t look rare, sadly, so no selling it…

The Gear laughed. ‘You couldn’t sell me if you tried,’ Bash mocked. ‘Though, if you could, I would surely be worth no less than a kingdom’s worth of gold. I am the Lord of Wounds, after all.’

“What do you mean, couldn’t?” Griever had an odd suspicion that he already knew the answer.

‘You DO know the answer to that one.’

Griever tried to pull the armband off, but to no avail. It was stuck, much like old Garris’ wedding ring after he gained all his weight. This was different, though. The gear didn’t pull his skin when Griever tried to remove it or even act like it was being pulled. It was like Griever was stopping before he even tried to remove it.

‘Better get used to me,’ Bash said, sounding amused, ‘I’m with you for the long run.’

The End

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