Chip Triumph was always curious of the weapon that hung on the wall over the huge oak doors of the throne room, the violet colour of the hilt and the hilt guard in the shape of spread hawk wings. The blade was the eye catcher, it was as white as snow, the blade was wide; the size of a grown man's hands side by side. And at the base of the blade was a blotch of ink that could not be removed. When ever Chip had time to himself from the extensive battle training and schooling, he would travel to the throne room to stare at the blade. He once tried to grip the hilt two years prior when he was ten; he was nearly there, only inches away when his mentor entered the room. He was beaten badly. He was told in the past by his mentor as well as his mother and father that it was forbidden to touch the blade, even to come near it. Chip's mentor said: "To touch the blade would be worse than to grasp embers." He never disobeyed his family. And, on a day when he was gazing marvellously at the blade his mentor, dressed in an ankle length midnight black robe, his hood was over his head and Chip could not tell if his break was finished or not, entered with a soldier behind him. He was to show him the consequence if he was ever to grasp the hilt.
Chip took a step back as he saw his mentor reach effortlessly for the blade; he could not understand why he was reaching from such a far distance, they stood about twenty feet from the doors, and the blade was mounted on top of the thirty foot doors. He looked over at the soldier who stood a few feet on his mentor's left; he looked calm and ecstatic with what was going to happen. His mentor's arm raised and the blade in the distance followed, he retracted his arm and the blade followed his every movement, it sailed across the room with a the sound of air being sliced. The blade instantly halted before his mentor. He raised his opposite hand waving it away, the black scabbard that was already half off launches from the blade nearly missing the soldier beside him smashing into the stone wall with a hollow ping.
He looked over his right shoulder, his sapphire eyes cold. "Young Shadel is just as curious of this blade as you are, my Prince," said Colin with a quiet measured voice. He reached for the violet hilt and grasped it.
Shadel was well known in the army of the Triumph, he was known for his battle tactics and honed sword skills, he was one of the highest ranking soldiers in the Triumph army. So why did Colin choose him to grip the hilt of Fed Drappel? Not only was he highly fascinated in the blade; he also disobeyed an order Colin gave to him. The order was to murder a thief that was stealing from the merchants in the Triumph town Seles. Shadel found the thief but did not kill him, nor did he arrest the thief, he found out that the thief was his brother. He defied the order for his younger sibling to live. He thought for sure he was going to be fired, better yet killed. Instead, Colin told him to meet him in the throne room to heft the blade he always wanted to grasp.
Chip nearly leapt at his mentor, but did not.