Prose – Hildegard the Wielder

They called her Hildegard the Wielder.

At first glance, it was not easy to understand why. She was but a young woman, small and slight, with tangled dark hair and dark, knowing eyes. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her. On second glance though, things became clearer. Strapped across her back, was a sword almost as big as she was – the Arc Blade.

She wielded the sharp steel with a skill and a ferocity previously thought only to be found in men three times her size. Some magic lay upon the blade so that anyone else who tried to lift it, no matter their size or strength, would fail.

There was much speculation as to how Hildegard had come to possess the Arc Blade. No-one knew the truth and Hildegard would spin a different tale every time she was asked. One day she stole it from a Goblin king, the next it was a gift for slaying a fearsome dragon. Like the blade, her own origins couldn’t be traced. She simply travelled from town to town, using her blade wherever it was needed, then moving quietly onward.