A goblin pours molten steel into the sword mold.  It hurries to pour another, leaving the sword to take its shape.  When the sword does another goblin picks it up with tongs and dunks it in a basin of water.  That goblin doesn’t pay that sword any more attention as it works on the next.  

This forge is mass producing weaponry, and this sword is one of these weapons.  It isn’t special compared to the rest, so it is loaded onto a cart for transportation.  These swords are kept in an armory.  The armory is dark, and it wasn’t disturbed until men came and grabbed the swords.  These men carry the swords to a yard, where other men were given these swords.  

The sword was given to a soldier.  The soldier gripped the sword tightly, as he was sorted into the front of a formation.  A commander led them out of a camp, maintaining the formation.  The soldier gripped the sword even more tightly the farther they marched.  The commander stopped short of an open field.  On the other side of the field were soldiers of a different army.  The soldier holding the sword’s pulse rose and his knuckles turned white from gripping the sword too tightly.  

‘safe’  the soldier believed that the sword was the only thing keeping him from dying, which the sword didn’t and couldn’t refute.

The commanders ordered their soldiers to charge, and all of them did.  The soldiers collided in combat.  The soldier killed an enemy soldier.  The sword got blood on it.  The soldier cut down his enemies with conviction, while the sword sliced and stabbed said enemies.  The soldier was screaming with primal instinct, cutting down his enemies while avoiding death.  When the enemies saw his ferocity, they retreated out of fear.  In the end, the soldier assured victory for his army.  His sword was dripping with his enemies’ blood

After the battle, the commander approached the soldier, who was now expelling his breakfast onto the blood-stained field.  The commander, who was a veteran, lent the soldier his shoulder.  After the soldier stopped, he looked to see who was supporting him.  His eyes bulged when he saw the now dull armor of the commander.  The commander merely slapped him on the back.  The commander lauded the soldier by saying,

“Your courage is commendable, and I will make sure that your achievements will not go unnoticed, recruit.  What is your name, son?”  The commander asked looking straight into the eyes of the bewildered soldier clutching the sword.  The soldier got his bearings and said to the commander,

“My name is Borunin, milord.  I was merely conscripted to this war and fought for my life.  I am lucky to be alive.  What achievements did I accomplish?”  Borunin asked as politely as he could.

“You have achieved great merit in battle, whether you understood it or not.  By my honor as Duke Dentry, you will be rewarded for this.”

When his commander said this, Borunin was overjoyed.  He felt incredibly grateful.  A duke could arrange a meeting with the princes, and that may very well give him nobility.  

His sword was soaked in blood and fat.  It was remarkably unchipped, but unremarkably dull at this point.  Borunin hugged this sword which saved his life.  While the other weapons and their masters lie on the ground, this sword formed a sentimental connection with Borunin.  When Borunin came back to camp, he immediately put his sword next to his footlocker.  He ran off to clean himself, as he was covered in blood.  The sword merely waited there silently, beads of blood starting to coagulate.  When Borunin came back, he seemed to have a much healthier glow to him.  He sniffed once, and he cleaned his sword not long after.  Borunin gently poured oil on the blade, and he gingerly rubbed the blood off with cloth.  When the sword gleamed again, Borunin placed the sword in his footlocker and closed it.

The sword waited.  It could not think, and it could not move.  All it could do is wait, unable to develop its own feelings or choose its own fate.  It was not bothered by this, as it couldn’t be bothered.  All it could do is wait.

When he took his sword out again, Borunin had it sharpened.  His sword was fit to kill after this.  Borunin wore more armor this time.  He still held onto his sword, though.  When he battled again, he fought less on instinct and more on training.  When Duke Dentry saw this, he lauded him again.  Borunin soon became friends with this Duke.  Like that, eight years of Borunin’s life was spent on war.  Borunin soon led his own army, and he soon had his own armor.  He kept this same sword for all of this, and it fought less and less every time.  Borunin was an average leader, but an inspiring warrior.  Soon his reputation spread and all of his soldiers respected him.  The sword didn’t care.  It was merely an unfeeling tool.  

The Duke eventually became an old general.  When the two men next met up, Duke Dentry introduced Borunin to his young son and grandchildren.  Borunin treated Duke Dentry’s son like a brother, and his grandchildren like his own children.  The sword saw this all.  

Soon enough, Borunin obtained nobility and married a girl.  He shelved the sword and his armor in his study.  Borunin only occasionally admired his old sword.  His thoughts were on his manor and family, rather than his memories.  When the young baroness was in the study next, she was pregnant.  Borunin worried for his wife, but the Borunin was a happy man the next time he came into his office.  His son was given the name Darius, the first name of his friend Duke Dentry.  The sword was only occasionally dusted and polished by maids.  Baron Borunin scarcely looked at the sword again for a long while.  It was only when young Darius Borunin was old enough to lead Borunin’s army that he touched his old sword again.  After a while, Borunin did not return to his study, and Baron Darius Borunin took possession of the sword.