Pushing it further was clearly a waste of time. Nixon was a man removed from such social obligations. He could not understand how important it was that Aryu go and finish what he felt he must.
Nixon, convinced that Esgona was still a good ways off from coming to, moved him closer to the phantom fire and let him sleep off the shock. “Look at him, Aryu. If all you say is true, think about the time this man had…”
“Boy, Nixon. He’s still just a boy.”
Nixon sighed heavily. “He’s not my enemy, Aryu. I’ll address 'im as I wish. This man is clearly crippled, weak, and most certainly pushed far 'nough to 'is limits to be lying 'ere after all he’d seen. Yet still he confronted ya like a man in 'is situation should. Scared, sure, but strong enough t’ stand against ya when he deemed it necessary. And don’t fool yourself, Aryu; yer little knuckle-duster 'ad nothing t’ do with 'is current state other than a bruise and a 'eadache when he comes to. Now, tell me Oh Worldly One, 'ow is he any less a man than you?”
Aryu glared across the fire but said nothing. His resolve would not allow him to be dragged into this argument. His ‘oh worldliness’ knew a moment to agree to disagree. Esgona’s treatment of him in youth would become apparent once he woke up. Another conversational sidestep was needed.
“You looked surprised when I told you my name. You even said it was further proof that I should die? Why?”
Nixon smiled, but not the reassuring smile. More a leering one that both informed Aryu he knew what he was doing, and told Aryu the answer was not one he wanted to hear. “A bad piece of luck on yer behalf, I’d say.”
A moment of silence. Aryu pushed him on, urging him with his eyes, trying to wordlessly convey that he needed this conversation.
“Alright, if ya must know.” Nixon met Aryu’s eyes, sure to send the message that Aryu had better listen to what he was about to be told. “Through the ages, there 'ave been those tha’ carried the sword fer one reason or another. Their reasons always varied but usually along the same paths as those before ’em.
“The first sword-bearer was the one ya know as the false god, but he was really a man named Tokugawa Ryu, the 'alf-breed bastard son of a ruler of an old empire now long dead. He and 'is twin brother were born t’ parents of two different races, and born where they were, tha' was a 'orrible taboo. He and 'is brother were raised 'n trained in what’s called Martial Arts, a varied and confusing array of self-defense and attackin' techniques, thankfully lost t’ the ages because of its ridiculousness. It was durin’ this intense trainin', more so devised to keep’em away from their father and 'is position than to strengthen ’em, which they learned o' tha Power or whatever name it 'ad at tha’ time.
“Now, an Embracer of the Power will always 'ave an item t’ assist ’em as their power grows. A talisman t’ focus their thoughts 'n energy. They don’t need it forever. Ryu outgrew this sword long ago. They don’t need it to live or die, just help ’em embrace and, to a very, very small extent, control the Power. Control of the Power first leads t’ great longevity, and eventually, if one’s not careful, immortality. Immortality tha' can only be taken by someone with similar or greater power. Will, Aryu, is what determines these things. Never strength.
“Anyway, the long and truly sorted details of Ryu’s life are not important. All tha’ is needed is this: he was a man whose power got tha better of ’im, and 'istory has made ’im a god.
“Now, long after he discarded this sword the first time, others found it. Each would take on tha title and power it possessed. Tokugawa Ryu, after a long period o' time, lost tha’ name and was simply referred to as Ryuujin, loosely translated from 'is native tongue as ‘Dragon God’, or per'aps ‘Dragon King,’ is closer. The point is, 'is reputation and 'is prowess with this sword were becomin’ legendary, and when he cast it off t’ grow the Power without it, many bearers thereafter would take on the name Ryuujin, even though the original man was still very much alive and well.
“The sword, for its part, as every such item of focus does, became more than itself as well. Once used so well by a master o' the Power, something Ryu certainly was despite 'is relative youth, it became an item of focus t' others. Each time its legend and power grew until all one had to do was 'old it and its purpose and 'istory were clear, but only, and this is important, if the bearer knew wha' to look for. One trained glance at it and it would tell ya its history in a single moment. Not everyone sees it, but a general rule is anyone with an aged and open mind will at least hear it whisper to 'em.”
Aryu somewhat understood what he meant. When he looked at the weapon, a whisper of something otherworldly filled his mind, but not as strong as Nixon was describing.
“Some of my earliest memories came soon after it was discarded the first time. It eventually fell into the hands of a man named Adragon Sakata. He was a ruler of a small island close t’ where Ryu and 'is brother were born and raised. Sakata was a man bent on gainin' more power than he truly deserved. He was not 'appy with what he thought was a meager island, and when the sword and
