The History Of The Purple – Part Two

(Make sure you read Part One before you go any further.)

The last Seven Great Pieces were lost for hundreds of years. The Great Flaming Sword was thought destroyed in the fire at Rome, but appeared again, lodged in a stone in Britain.

It wasn’t until the 1800’s, when exploration began to make global steps, that anyone dared to search again for the Great Pieces. By this time, the Smithies of the Purple were reduced to a simple family, my family.

I Blame The Scotch

I am at the bar, Scotch in my hand. It had been a long strange day. I thought that a stiff drink might take the edge off. Little did I know, things were going to get stranger. And my drink was going to be chiefly to blame.

A pig-tailed little girl sat down on the stool beside me. She looked like she was about six.

A Prelude To The Falling of Mharc

“Don’t use false words with me,” he bellowed.

His rage had reached a new level, a level that made even his wife nervous. Their houseguest backed into a corner, never a good place for a guest to be in. His arms raised, the guest screwed up his courage, or rather, his foolishness, and retorted.

“You have no power here. The ancient laws forbid magic in the dwellings of the Mharc.”

The History of The Purple

Blacksmiths work with iron. Goldsmiths craft wonders with gold. Silversmiths with silver, and redsmiths work copper into numerous things.

These have been normal and noble trades throughout the centuries. Dating back to the time of kings and regal Knights, men and women have put their minds and hands to these most precious of minerals and created great things. Suits of armour, weapons for thousands of armies, things of beauty for royalty, the profession of a smithy was and is still revered.

But my work, my smithing, has not gone celebrated. It has gone unappreciated for centuries. And as master smith has taught and raised up new smiths to take hammer and anvil to our precious material, we have borne the burden of being scorned.

No more.

I am the last great master of my kind. I am the lone Grand Smithy of the Purple, and this story will be shared.