I returned from my morning excursion, but since I hadn't slept well, I took a nap through the afternoon. Because those old men from the Imperial Hospital had lost so much blood, I didn't go to study prescriptions with them.
To make a long story short, as soon as night fell, the three old men scurried off to the smithy. They retrieved their precious swords, and upon returning, they didn't waste a word before calling for their respective patriarchs. The patriarchs, wondering what all the fuss was about, were shown the swords. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but they were skeptical about the weapons' actual performance.
One of the old men puffed out his chest and told his father that the swords were guaranteed to work—they had already tested them. He drew his blade and swung it at a rack of other swords. The result shocked even his father. Those blades on the rack were ancestral treasures, every one a masterwork, yet they were snapped in half by a single strike. Ignoring the heartbreak of the broken treasures, the father grabbed the new blade, unable to put it down.
Chapter 19