Later that night, when most of the tower was asleep, Lannon found himself feeling restless, eager to begin the adventure. He sat in his bedchamber, tapping his foot on the floor and wondering what to do with himself.
It was not the way of Divine Knight--especially one in a position of leadership--to find time to be bored, but it was Lannon's way. After only two decades of life, he still had much to learn. Lannon hadn't yet matured to the point where he knew how to keep himself busy. He bore many great responsibilities but often found himself bored and lacking direction.
He felt good enough to wander around a bit, but leaving the keep was too dangerous, considering he was still in a weakened state. Ollanhar Tower held many areas that Lannon had not yet explored--hidden and perilous places where great rewards might lurk. But he wasn't sure he was fit for attempting such explorations. Instead, he lifted a book from a nightstand. It was titled 600 Uses for Dragon Scales. He read a bit and then laid it down again. He sighed.
A loud knock on the door broke the silence. A moment later, Vorden Flameblade stood before him. Vorden was wearing his heavy armor--which was unusual for this time of night--and his sword hung from his belt.
"Greetings, Lannon. How are you feeling?"
"Much better, actually," Lannon replied. "Still have some pain, though."
Vorden nodded. "So we're leaving soon on this long adventure. Furlus thinks it will be terribly dangerous--to the point where he sends the White Flamestone beyond Silverland. Yet I still don't have a proper sword."
"I'm sorry, Vorden," said Lannon, "but there isn't much to be done about it. How many times have we discussed this issue?"
"I understand," said Vorden. "You're weary of hearing about it. But I would like you to give it one more try. Just one more."
Lannon looked away. "It doesn't matter. I know I can't do it. Besides, I'm not sure I would even be able to climb up there, with my injury and all."
"With the Eye of Divinity," said Vorden, "you can make the climb." He sighed deeply in frustration. "As your best friend, I'm asking you to make the attempt. Without a proper sword, I'm very weak. I have a great deal of sorcery but no blade to channel it through. Such a waste!"
"You have a sword," Lannon pointed out.
Vorden drew his heavy steel broadsword--an excellent sword that most Knights would have treasured--and gazed at it with contempt. Then he held it up. He focused on it and the blade grew red hot, smoldering with the fires of sorcery.
Lannon shrank back from the heat.
As Vorden shook his head in disgust, the blade began to droop into melted ruin. He slammed it down on the stone floor. "You were saying?"
"Okay," said Lannon, "maybe you do need a better blade. But such swords are not cheap or easy to obtain."
"Yet Jerret has one," said Vorden. "And it's made of Glaetherin--making it one of the sturdiest swords in all the land."
"Yes," said Lannon, "and he deserves it. He earned that blade."
Vorden didn't answer, his expression sullen.
"You have magnificent armor," said Lannon. "Maybe the best I've ever seen. A full set of Glaetherin armor fit for a king. Most Knights don't have that."
"I can't strike a blow with my armor," said Vorden.
Lannon had no answer for that.
"What about Birlote steel?" asked Lannon. "Could the sword of a Tree Dweller withstand your sorcery?"
"I doubt it," said Vorden. "It might last a bit longer, but sooner or later it would melt. What I need is Olrog Glaetherin and nothing less."
Or Dragon bone, Lannon thought. He glanced at his sheathed sword, which lay atop the nightstand. He considered just giving the sword to Vorden, but then dismissed the idea. Lannon also needed a powerful sword. Otherwise he had no chance against foes like that dark rider who had nearly slain him. And the sword was bonded to him and was comfortable in his hands in a way that no other sword could be. It seemed like his friend and he couldn't surrender it.
Vorden bowed. "I'll take my leave, then. Goodnight."
"Wait," said Lannon, wanting desperately to give his friend hope. "I know I can't open that safe--not yet. But Ollanhar holds other treasures. Maybe we could do some exploring and see what turns up."
Vorden shook his head. "Do as you wish, Lannon. I'm going to town to have a drink. I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, Vorden left the room, leaving his melted broadsword where it lay. He slammed the door behind him.
Lannon sat in quiet frustration for a time. The truth was that weapons and armor made of Glaetherin or Dragon bone were extremely rare. Most Knights got by without them, relying on iron and steel. Most Glaetherin items belonged to the Grey Dwarves or to Knights who had done something truly heroic. Jerret's sword was an oddity, because many questioned whether or not he actually deserved it. Lannon's own sword had cost a fortune--a gift from the wealthy Taris Warhawk. Yet at the peak of Ollanhar Tower stood a safe containing several Glaetherin swords that had once belonged to the Dark Watchmen--a priceless treasure trove that Lannon couldn't access. He sympathized deeply with Vorden, but High Watchman or not, Lannon was unable to help him. King Verlamer had robbed Dremlock of many great treasures--including Lannon's own irreplaceable throwing star--and nothing could be done about it.
Lannon lay down to sleep, but found himself feeling far too restless. He grabbed his sword and put on his leather boots. It was time to explore.