Simon twisted the hilt and, when the monster’s movement ceased, his sandalled foot pushed it off the blade. The corpse tumbled onto the bedroll Ladin, the merchant, was scrambling out of.
“Th-Thank you … I could have been bitten.”
Franklin, Ladin’s body guard, came running to his side with sabre drawn. He was a little late by Argent’s measure and the young noble looked like he knew it and was itching for a chance to redeem himself. Simon nodded curtly at the two men and bent to clean Wolfripper on the beast’s pelt. Argent admired the rainbow aura that reflected off the weapon in the moonlight. Argentum … the pure metal after which he had been named. Not the counterfeit alloy that tinkers and alchemists tried to pass off as Argentum but the real thing. The counterfeit, like the silver that made up most of its content, could penetrate weir-hide given enough force. However, only Argentum would pierce it like a hot needle through wax.
Argent looked to Barwolfripper, his own sword, and drew it the rest of the way from its sheath. The huge blade was nearly as tall as he was and was Wolfripper’s twin in every way. Except the aura. Barwolfripper was only dull metal with a silver edge and tip. Argent saw Simon watching him as Argent strapped the leather sheath to his back and replaced Barwolfripper.
“Don’t worry. It won’t be long now. Another half cycle and Barwolfripper will be complete.”
It was an uncharacteristic display of comfort and caught Argent off guard.
“Yes Sir. Not long now.”
Argent hoped his voice didn’t make it obvious that his heart wasn’t in his response. He wished he had Simon’s faith. He wished he knew he was going to pass the test. But the truth was, he didn’t.