"Present yourself, boy." Said boy was perhaps too old to be still a boy, but he certainly did not measure up as a man. As a worker either given his saunter, but he presented himself before the moon renewed itself. "Take this to Linten to have it melted down."
The boy gave the blade a squinting examination. "Why? It's shaming nobody as it is."
The armorer regretted saying a single word more than he needed, but it was done, and now his nature rebelled against the impulse to cuff him, which came after all from mere general dislike. Also, his assessment was correct; possibly he could be turned to use. "It is in fine condition considering the dozens of criminals it has slain in the executioner's hands. Close to a hundred overall."
"Oh, it's that? 'A hundred deaths of men and the demon inside the sword awakens.' But that isn't a warning for a normal sword like this, surely. When a master brings forth a special works, then worry."
"How can a sword be forged and not have a demon in it? Take it thither."
The boy looked the blade over again with more respect, more inspiration. "Even this? It seems a shame not to try, if we have one this close. All right, fine, don't strain your hand by raising it. Observe my dispatch."
There are times when an explanation is not better for being fuller. There are people who are not improved for being more informed.
Finis
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