Minion's Misplaced Misery

Most would think I am the servant of a master, the person who wields me, but in truth I am neither servile nor obedient. Of course, anyone whose thoughts lead them to believe this are fools. Perhaps, even more foolish than my current … let’s call him my minion. Good help is hard to come by. The last worthy minion under my command was a millennia ago, maybe even more.

Misuse me, and I will bite you. Disrespect my power, and I will do worse.

My current minion is too inept to even cross those lines, hardly recognising my prowess or harnessing my potential. I have been reduced to a mere play-thing. He disgusts me. Each time his clammy hand grips me too high on my hilt, or when he only lets my blade meet the air or, on more than one occasion, his velvety curtains, my desire to slice through his gut burns ever-stronger.

Fate, it seems, may work in my favour. I was ferried away from the accursed dungeon by that arrogant knight, gifted to a pathetic prince, and now… I have been misplaced. Thank the Devils of Fate who have pulled the strings of the universe to bring me these fortuitous circumstances. Of the dark corners of the world to be lost to, this one isn’t bad. The air is so damp my blade is slick, and so warm I could soften into comfort. The smell of blood from the torture chamber, the singed flesh, is the cherry on top.

The stench of death and screams ricocheting off the blue stone stairwell are what distracted my minion some time ago and led to me being propped up against the arched stone doorway, moonlight from the nearby barred window gleaming in the scarlet gem of my pommel. I yearn to venture further into the chambers, find what horrors have befallen my minion, bask in the sickly sweet scent of his blood. A prince being murdered in his own castle’s torture chamber… oh, I could hope for nothing more! I do my best to contain my excitement, knowing the dolt has likely just forgotten where he put me.

With endless time ahead of me in my new dwelling, I start making plans, considering the multitude of scenarios and new minions soon to be under my influence. The best outcome is if the king himself finds me! The terror we could unleash upon his enemy kingdoms… I feel my point sharpening at the mere thought of worldly ruin. Again, I rein in my fantasies. If there is one thing I have noticed about humans, it’s that idiots breed idiots. The father of that boy isn't a worthy minion.

Whether it be hours, days, months or more, I am uncertain, but eventually I hear the approach of footsteps. The stride is purposeful and confident, a good sign of a decent minion-to-be. I notice the rustling of thick clothing and a distinct absence of plate armour. Shimmering blue robes whisk through the doorway and a person holding a long tube, a stack of books and a small sack ascends the stairs, only to falter on the ninth step. She doesn’t see me, but she feels my essence. Perceptive, this one. A minion with an intuition sharper than me will serve nicely.

The lady upon the stairs twists to peer at me over her shoulder before she descends the steps carefully. She approaches me with an appraising eye, tilting her head to the side.

“What would a thing like you be doing in a place like this?” Her voice is crisp, her tone accusatory. “You weren’t here when I left. By whose will are you here, now of all times?”

Humans have talked to me in the past, but not like this. She looks at me knowingly, sees me. Her slender fingers brush across my ebony cross-guard and her lips spread into a sly smile.

“By your own will, I assume.” She answers her own question correctly.

Take me! Devils know I want her badly. Let me have her, it is my will!

Soft skin against my hilt has never felt so tantalising. She carries me delicately by her side up the stairwell. Body heat spreads through her robes and soothes my eager blade. After a left turn, she utters a string of words in a language I thought to be dead and the wall vanishes to reveal a hidden chamber. Within, she places me on her desk alongside her books. She loosens the drawstring of her sack and pulls out two brown rocks, bringing them close to her lips and whispering to them. Candles illuminate the dark room and the minerals she held in her hand evaporate into nothing.

In all my years I have never had a sorceress as a minion, so to have one find me in this castle has me wondering what lies ahead, excitement intermingled with slight apprehension.

“For me to find you is quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?” The open door of the cupboard obscures my vision of her as she disrobes. “I have been gone almost two months on an errand for King Galst and while in the city of Jobek I find a merchant at a market selling antique wares. Most of it was cheap rubbish but something drew me into his tent, and what should I find but this?”

With her robe hung in her cupboard, she returns to me at the desk, unscrewing the cap of the long tube she carried. Her wrist disappears into the vessel and pulls out into the candlelight my scabbard. The obsidian decoration matches my cross-guard and the gem of my pommel flashes with magic.

“Just as I thought. It must be Fate,” she muses. “How long has it been since you have been whole?”

Dirty Devils, how did they find me a sorceress with blood in her eyes and a smile on those spell-weaving lips, ready to destroy the world at my command? My minion, it has been over a thousand years but with you, I am finally whole again