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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PepperAntique on 2024-11-04 21:24:57+00:00.

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Writer’s note: In which we learn some things about Kestin. Also Joey channels his inner weeb to bring you some written Sakuga.

Enjoy.

> 
> "-ople don't do what I do for a silly title. You see, you hear 'Sword of the City' and you think 'ooh such a hero. so noble and strong.' and you think I'm some kind of paragon of virtue. 'Oh he trains all the burgeoning swordsman of the academy. He's shaping the future.' Pfft! I mean, don't get me wrong. The monthly stipend was lovely. The privileges of the academy were great. And it was legitimately nice to know that maybe. Just maybe. A few generations of Academy graduates might not have their heads AS FAR up their arses as usual. But that wasn't why I took the title from old Radagar all those years ago."
> 
> 
> At this the once (in)famous Morris Kestin seems to reminisce for a moment as he looks at the cup of tea set between us. Even months after his arrest his hands can only grip the small cup for a few moments at a time before trembling.
> 
> 
> "I did it because he was a right bastard. And because the person I knew really wanted the title was no less of a bastard than he was. Couldn't have someone like that championing my city.... My home.... And definitely not training our promising youths."
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> 
> For my safety I won't put who I ASSUME he's speaking about. But given the nature of the former Sword of the City's arrest. I have an idea.
> 
> 
> As I'm having this thought, Sir Kestin holds his trembling hand up and looks at it. Then he holds it out for me to inspect. It bears surgical scars and signs of freshly healed flesh in an odd patchwork of differently aged skin.
> 
> 
> "I know that my legacy as the sword will be... dilluted by the discoveries people have made of how I got it." He says as he pours energy into the hand.
> 
> 
> Even damaged I can see faint lights from underneath the skin. The enchantments that have drawn all of the sword master's past duels and trials into question have also led to countless mages and researchers to knock on his door at almost all hours.
> 
> 
> "Do you know what it takes to enchant your body?" He asks with a suddenly haunting look on his face. He uses the finger of his other hand to trace a scar running down the back of his hand. "You can't.... enchant.... living things. A mage can't enchant your skin or your hair or something. It has to be a inanimate object. So to enchant yourself.... to enchant your bones.... it's.... well... it's certainly not for the faint of heart."
> 
> 
> Suddenly the nature of what he's saying, and the light show he just put on, begin to make sense.
> 
> 
> "You have to remove a bone." He said with a devious grin. "You have to remove a bone. Remove it entirely.... Then you have to kill that bone. But in a way that's recoverable. That doesn't damage it so badly it breaks or, even worse, can't be made to live again.... We chose freezing. That was the method my partner and I figured out works best. Then you have to enchant it."
> 
> 
> His hand flashes forward and pokes me in my chest.
> 
> 
> "YOU... have to enchant it. It's YOUR bone. YOUR creation. It's like trying to enchant a weapon that's already soul-bound to someone. It just doesn't work. So... you keep a healer-mage on standby. Cut yourself open. Pull the bone out. Freeze it until it dies but doesn't shatter. Then you enchant it. Then put it back in. Then have the healer seal everything up and slowly.... ever so slowly..... revive the dead bone. And it does have to be slow. We're talking days at a time for a simple finger bone." He holds up a glowing pinky for emphasis. "And that's just for a simple strength or dexterity enchantment." He pulls his robe open a bit and shows me the a line of scars along his left shin. "Imagine what it takes to make a bone stronger than steel."
> 
> 
> The idea. The sheer fact that I can see other scars leading up under his underclothes, and know from the Legion's public statements that almost his entire body is similarly enhanced, force me to ask the question.
> 
> 
> "Why?" I ask, incredulous at the concept. Already I know that this interview will only lead to longer lines of mages and researchers at his door. And likely the beginning of an entire world of warriors who will desire the same power.
> 
> 
> "Well that's easy." He says with that same devilish grin from earlier. "Because of the other reason I wanted the title 'Sword of the City". You see. You all think this whole "Oh his whole body is enchanted. He's not a real swordsman." is going to make people question my legitimacy." Kestin shakes his head and grins. "I say it's quite the opposite. When people read this interview. And when mages begin confirming my method. People will understand, that in order to become what I became. I had to be what I've always wanted people to know I am. And what a Sword of the City should be."
> 
> 
> He clenches the trembling hand into a fist. It crackles and pops. The old joints and freshly damaged and healed bones making their aches known.
> 
> 
> In spite of the pain, which is evident on his face, the hand begins glowing. It sputters and flickers. But even damaged, more than enough of the enchantments are still intact.
> 
> 
> "It should always be widely known that the Sword of the City, regardless of which city they represent, is the toughest, most die hard, bastard you can imagine. Whether you consider their methods cheating or not"
> 
> 
> And as I watch even more of the disgraced swordsman's (still not fully recovered) body begins to luminate with more hidden enchantments.
> 
> 
> What few are still intact after the bones they were infused into were battered and broken during his fight with the Cobalt Legion Commander.
> 
> 
> And I can't help but agree that the maniac sitting across from me may actually b-
> 
> 
> 

Five looked at the article with no small amount of dread.

"Jesus H. Christ." She said softly as she imagined the process the man described.

Surprisingly, she can almost understand where the crazed swordsman was coming from. She had, after all, gone through a surgical process no less extreme once upon a time. And that was before her turning into a member of the folk.

Still. To remove your own bones one at a time and magically alter them before putting them back?

There had to be a touch of insanity in the man.

Gorna was about to ask what she'd been reading as she set down her pastry. But Five's phone chimed with the alert that she had satellite coverage for the next few minutes. So she just handed the paper to her as she stepped to the side and made her call.

A few moment later she was talking to the Earth-Estland Embassy.

"Yeah this is a message for Vickers." She said, not wanting to betray the King's requested investigation. "Eh. Just let him know that I haven't been able to find anything crazy. IT... most likely happened because of the whole Gate thing that just went down. I'm sure he already figured as much given the timing. But the only other notable stuff is a powerful healer who seems to have left, and some sword guy." She said with a glance at Gorna, who's eyes were growing wider with each word she was reading. "Who I guess had some kind of scandal that got him arrested. But it's probably just the Gate thing honestly." She nodded sarcastically as she rolled her eyes at the person on the other side, who couldn't see the gestures. "Yeah yeah I'm sure you guys already know what he's doing. Oh, just pass it on and leave it be LT."

She hung up before the officer on the other side could be any more annoying.

Gorna set the paper down and looked disturbed by it for a moment.

"Jesus H. Christ is right." She said as she looked back at Five. "What a maniac."

Five nodded as she sat down.

"He's right though." She said as she snagged her girlfriend's pastry and took a bite, earning an offended look. "He's raised the standard for how tough someone has to be to earn that title fully."

"Makes me wonder how tough this commander of theirs is?" Gorna said with a hint of curiosity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Joey and Vann's blades met, it wasn't a fight.

It wasn't a back alley brawl or schoolyard scrap.

It wasn't even really a duel, despite fitting the description.

No. When Vann's charge was intercepted by Joey's counter-charge, it marked the start of a two person WAR.

Each step Vann took deformed the earth beneath his boots and left boot-sole shaped craters in their wake.

Each step Joey took left scorched bits of his own boots behind, and a smell like ozone as he moved near the speed of sound without meaning to.

Vann was a bullet train in human form. All steel and greenish black lightning bolts with a blade leading in front. While Joey was a different kind of bullet. The one that emerged from a rifle and pierced its target in the blink of an eye.

Joey slid under the lunging great sword of the commander, missing its point by mere centimeters even as his antlers were on either side of it.

But he couldn't dodge the magic on the commanders arms. The familiar inky green lightning that he recognized as his former teacher/lover's preferred attack, Death Bolts.

They scorched his skin where they arced to it, and left lines of burns and Lichtenberg scars on his forehead and upper neck as h...
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