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There was much more to Gordon Antal, the half-giant, half-human monster hunter who hailed from the distant past of 15XX, than met the eye initially, Caedryn had found out. He’d had his suspicions from the moment he had met her.
It hadn’t just been that she was the farthest removed from Caedryn’s time period out of anyone in the castle, nor just that she was half-human, or even just her androgynous appearance; Caedryn was very quickly finding out that Gordon seemed to have quite the collection of artifacts on their person.
He should have guessed it, in all honesty. Gordon’s armor was clearly not of Red Isles make like his clothes were, but rather was a style Caedryn was more familiar with—it was the old Celtic armor he had seen in museums, or decorating the palace halls. A set of rings of clearly Middle Eastern design decorated his fingers, sitting next to the Zodiac Ring Gordon had (of which he was, of course, unable to harness the power of—only Caedryn could do that). Two lanterns were strapped to Gordon’s waist with unusual glowing lights inside, and strapped to his side was a katana. Gordon confessed that he was not used to the light weight of it, and regardless, it had been clearly designed for human hands. She stuck with her zweihander, which suited her build perfectly, though she made an ominous comment of the katana still being rather useful in battle.
“You see,” Gordon said, drinking from a flagon of mead in the tavern. Caedryn was the only person left in there, and the music had long since stopped on the gramophone. “It’s a haunted sword.”
“Haunted, hm…”
“Want to see it?”
Caedryn nodded. He had some experience with ghosts.
Gordon smirked, took another drink, and undid the katana from his belt and laid it upon the table.
Caedryn had never been to the Pink Isles, and as a result wasn’t familiar with their weaponry outside of what he had seen in books. The blade was indeed smaller and more curved than the longswords and rapiers he was familiar with.
The sheath was polished to a shine, though it did have scratches and a few dings on its surface. There was an elegant knot tied around the handle.
Caedryn gently lifted it in his hands, only barely touching it, and already he heard something—someone—whispering in his ear, though he couldn’t make out a single word.
“Sometimes, when I’m in battle, after I swing it a few times, it’ll move on its own,” Gordon said, voice low. “I don’t have much aptitude for this stuff. What do you think?”
Caedryn said nothing, straining to try and listen to the voices in his ear as he carefully unsheathed the blade.
Caedryn examined the mirrored surface, blinking a few times. The sword didn’t reflect the tavern at all—instead, he saw a field of willow trees, waving in a nonexistent wind.
He held it up to his eyes, but his own eyes didn’t stare back. The face in the blade’s reflection was absolutely, undoubtedly, not his own.
Caedryn shuddered, and the figure in the reflection narrowed its eyes.
The whispering in his ear became deafening.
So you can see me.
Maybe that means you can let me out.
Caedryn choked, dropping the blade on the table.
Excuse you, don’t drop me—
“Father?”
Caedryn’s head snapped up, looking at Gordon.
“So?”
“I… I’d like to keep this for a short while, if possible.”
“So it is haunted?” Gordon said gleefully.
“The sword moves on its own and you had doubts it was haunted?”
“I mean, it could be enchanted to do that!”
Caedryn looked down at it.
“… I don’t want to say anything yet. Just… let me hold on to it.”
“Of course I can let you do that!”
Caedryn was shocked at how trusting Gordon was, especially in comparison to the other denizens of the castle.
“… thank you for trusting me, Gordon.”
“Oh, anytime, Father!”
Once they both stood up, Gordon showed his thanks by locking Caedryn in a hug so tight that he felt his spine pop.
——
Caedryn used his abilities—rather than the sword’s alleged ones—to float it back to his room, not wishing to touch it again just yet.
He turned the gaslamps in his room low and sat on his bed with the katana. Caedryn took a deep breath and gripped its handle again.
You again.
“Yes,” Caedryn said, voice cracking. “M.. Me again.”
The sword—or the spirit inside it, or the spell, or whatever it was that was causing this—said nothing. Caedryn gingerly took hold of its handle again, closing his eyes.
Immediately he was transported—not physically, though he could have fully believe he did. He was standing in the gardens of a massive, multi-story palace in the Pink Isles, several centuries prior. Flower petals and leaves blew on the wind. One landed in the middle of a pond, creating a single ripple.
“That fool Antal,” came the voice from earlier, only this time, it was crystal-clear. Caedryn turned around, looking for whoever had spoken.
“Who’s there?”
“I had never met someone from outside of the Pink Isles before I met her. And she still has not met me, of course.”
The figure took a few measured steps, walking around Caedryn, and Caedry forced his eyes to open.
His hand was still on the blade’s handle, his arm trembling.
And here, in you, I have found someone who can see me, feel me, and yet you are a mere hair away from running away screaming in hysterics.
Caedryn dropped the sword on his bed, but he could see that landscape in the blade’s surface.
He swallowed. He had never seen anything like this before, but he had heard of it. More accurately, he had a couple ideas on what it could be.
He took a deep breath and grabbed the handle again, though he kept his eyes open this time.
“Who are you?”
Saionji Yuuma.
“Saionji.”
Though it is my understanding that in your lands, it’d be Yuuma Saionji, wouldn’t it?
“Should I call you Yuuma?”
Such a disrespectful young man you are, truly. Normally, I would say no, you may not, but in truth—
Caedryn ran one finger over the dull edge of the blade, and swore under his breath when he felt it vibrate and heard Yuuma moan in his ear.
… what are you doing?
“I-I was…”
Do you mind?
“I-I’m sorry, I thought…”
That the apparition you see in the blade’s mirror is me? Oh, it once was. Do you want to see more of it?
Caedryn gasped, whimpering as he heard Yuuma’s voice in his ear.
Close your eyes.
Caedryn did it before he even realized what he had done.
He was back in the Pink Isles garden. A nearby deer scare made a sharp sound, startling Caedryn.
“That fool Antal took this blade off of an oni warrior he had been called to slay, unaware that it had already been stolen from someone else. Unaware of the curse laid upon it. Try as I might to get that barbarian’s attentions, he has merely assumed I was haunted or enchanted.”
Caedryn looked by the pond’s edge.
Standing there, ethereal and beautiful, was a knight of the Pink Isles, a samurai, his black hair loosely tied back and blowing in the gentle breeze.
“Yuuma?”
“Not anymore, no.”
He turned to look at Caedryn. His eyes were sharp, his mouth fixed into a frown that bordered on a pout.
“A warrior of the blade, cursed to become one with it. How ironic. What a fitting fate.”
Caedryn opened his eyes again. He was holding the sword up now.
You seem to like what you see, priest.
“What?”
You’re very handsome, too… well. For a foreigner.
Caedryn frowned at that, and he began gently examining the sword, his fingers light against the steel.
Be gentle with me.
Caedyrn shuddered at the plea, whispered right in his ear.
Oh? Do you enjoy it when I do that?
“No. No, not at… not at all.”
LIAR.
“Well, you liked it when I did this.”
Caedryn was being immature, he knew it, but being talked back to by a sword was really not how he wanted to be spending his time right now. He’d been disrespected by just a few too many non-humans recently.
He retaliated against Yuuma by running his finger over the dull edge again.
Damn you—
Yuuma’s cry was moaned out, right in Caedryn’s ear, reaching his brain. Caedryn gasped at the sound, and Yuuma scoffed.
Fool. You’re celibate, aren’t you? You seem similar to the monks in the Pink Isles! But you don’t control yourself as well as they do. You like hearing that, hm?
“St… stop it.”
Needy, desperate thing.
“I’m not—“
Caedryn gasped as the sword sprang to seeming life, floating about just as Gordon had described.
Caedryn thought, at first, that the sword—Yuuma—was going to stab him. Instead, it turned itself around, the handle facing him.
You are the first and only person who’s been able to see me. I’ve been needy and desperate myself.
The sword floated there as if thinking, before moving off the bed and ramming itself into the floorboard, handle up. The blade shined in the moonlight coming in through the windows.
Caedryn stared at it for some time, cheeks flushed. He could feel how aroused he was.
What are you waiting for, hm?”
“What are you…”
Ride it.
“What?”
I said… RIDE. IT.
Caedryn shut his eyes again, and although he wasn’t holding the sword, he was transported back into that dream-like garden.
Yuuma had kicked off his sandles and removed his socks. He untied his obi belt and the strings on his hakama, the skirt fluttering to the ground. He removed all his outerwear, his jacket, haori, and kimono discarded.
The last thing he did was untie his hair, and this action, more than anything, made Caedryn gasp. Somehow, it was more erotic than the removal of his clothes had been.
In the real world, Caedryn was steadily undoing his vestments, getting off the bed and moving towards the sword as if in a daze.
Careful now, priest.
The voice was in his ear as he opened his eyes, the visual of Yuuma untying his hair burned into his retinas.
Don’t cut yourself on me.
Caedryn was nude, and eased himself down onto the sword’s handle, his erection rubbing against it.
That’s it, that’s it—
Yuuma began swearing—Caedryn assumed—in his native tongue, moaning—
Such a good boy.
“Sh-Shut up,” Caedryn moaned, “I-I can give you something to really moan about—
Is that a threat or a promise, hm?
“Cocky little—“
Caedryn reached for the sheath that he had abandoned on the bed.
What are you doing?
Caedryn gasped as he continued rubbing his cock against the sword’s handle. Yuuma was rubbing against him, too, wriggling against him.
Caedryn moaned as he took the sheath and eased it, slowly, gently, inside of himself.
You—
“How do you like that?”
Caedryn had no idea what was coming over him. What on earth was making him act so… so bold?
He had no time to think about it. The sheath moved on its own and threw his hand off of it, and it lodged itself further inside of him.
“Ah—“
‘I’ll give you something to moan about’. That’s what you said. How foolish.
“Yuuma—“
How long has it been since I heard my name moaned in such a way?
Caedryn gasped, forced against the sword, his cock rubbing against it, precum leaking over the handle.
Leaking all over me? Don’t you know what a special blade this is?
“I.. I-I…”
Yuuma leaned into him, rubbing his handle against Caedryn’s cock. He lodged his sheath further into him.
Caedryn doubled over, shutting his eyes as tears streamed down them.
The dreamscape again. Now, though, Caedryn was naked, pinned to the ground by the samurai, his cock pressing against his own, his fingers inside his ass and thrusting hard.
Yuuma’s skin was rubbing against his, the hard outlines of his body rubbing against his softer ones, and Caedryn forced his eyes open as he came.
Releasing all over a sword such as this one. Truly such a disrespectful little priest, hm?
Caedryn gasped, doubling over and nearly getting his bare legs cut from the blade. Thankfully, Yuuma gently eased himself out of the way.
You can’t possibly return me to that Antal in this condition.
“N-No,” Caedryn whimpered. “Of… of course not… e-especially when I still do not… know the true nature of.. of you.”
There was silence from Yuuma then.
… just clean me up.
Caedryn, despite how weak he felt, rolled his eyes.
“Who’s needy now,” he muttered.