Lack of Daze of Whimsical Part 5: Abrasive Refraining

Prodigy of the weaponsmith and fashioned by a forge promised to the scion of a determined languidity. The sorcerer's signature spell encompasses the sword of mercury in the sanctity of his inner sanctum. As the temperature rises in a feudal land, by right of demand, the prince needed a weapon like an ace in hand. The prince needed to train his swordplay as he lived for the day to run the king through. His new toy tarried ahead, for the day he used to dread, became a course reality he longed for. The Paladin had arrived, to make the boy a man by teaching him the his hand in the warrior ways. Pull it out of the scabbard, then swing it around envisioning an "en garde", so spoketh his guardian. Swordplay is like learning to dance, to the music of the moving blade like a precisional lance set to cut the umbilical of the knave. Just like the squire, the prince was filled with desire to master the big knife and end the misbegotten tyrants life. He vowed to do it himself, put the derranged despot in hell and bring order to what had become the kingdom of Lucifer. That was why the paldin had appeared, because with one glance at it, it was as he had feared on his pilgrimage to lunacy's doorstep. The prince was God's salvation for the chaotic, for the King was a neurotic heretic. Once he had heard word of a helping hand to the prince, he called forth vagrants to dispose of the problem. He saw the Paladin as an interloper to his life on a string, quite a dilemna that he didn't want to sting. So the quarrel began between the King and the Prince when the dark assasins appeared out of the night.