They were back in their room, but the sword was the first to speak that afternoon.
"When are we going to go out and fight monsters?" it whined in a tone far too animated for a cursed weapon that once terrorized kingdoms. "I swear I'm becoming dry—rusty! I wasn't forged for this endless sitting and listening to your sighs, boy."
Luther, who was currently fixing the clasp of his cloak, didn't even flinch. "Didn't you say you'd been sealed for a few centuries?" he replied dryly, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "You survived centuries without any killing, you can wait a little longer."
"That's different!" the sword argued, its red gem pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "Back then, I was sealed. Now I'm free and bored out of my mind."
