The sword was thrust into the meadow between the wilderness and the sky, its blade bright like a pool of autumn water. The white ribbon with the new moon insignia wrapped around the sword hilt fluttered in the breeze, gently swaying like a memory.
Wise and deep eyes squinted slightly, looking with great interest as the horizon between heaven and earth became almond-shaped and broad. A white cloak draped over him, and beneath it, his rough hands rested on a black scabbard. He stood proudly, like a lion.
"King, time is late."
"Crentel, can you guess what I'm looking at?" The old man smiled, turning his head to ask calmly.
"Beyond this prairie, forward, forward, the land of Erune."
"Erune, the land we vowed to protect with our lives. But what I'm looking at is my sword, Crentel." The old man withdrew his gaze. The sword stood distinctly tall in the wilderness, yet it supported a piece of heaven and earth.
"Your sword?"
