Sword Oratoria Novels & Stories

"Son, what a wind carries you in the throne room, in front of these good gentlemen, my faithful and flawed knights, I think that only your love for Catherine of Aragon brings you here, the count and the knight of Suffering came hurriedly from Rome to bring the bubble, are my precious nobles and the most stormy swordsmen, by virtue of the count is connected the defeat of the barbarian gladiator, a Goliath better at the sword than with the spear, fell under the astonished eyes of an entire city!" "Ah! Father! Knight Carlos Ferroni, the best sword defeated so rightly speaking of a messenger?" the Duke of York wakes up with a grin in his apartments with Intendant Garcia, a typical drunken drunka

The next thing she knew Igor Orlov was on her with his rusted sword pointed at her throat at a horizontal angle. It was his signature style. While Esmeray preferred to use an extra sharp dagger to be done with the kill while her mark barely feel any pain. Igor Orlov the twisted bastard preferred to use a rusted sword to kill, the dull and uneven surface made his mark feel every bit of excruciating pain as he will very deliberately push down on his mark's jugular vein making the blood come out of his mark's neck like a spray.

Even if she moves her hand a little, her hand would cut. “Orion Magnus Annora, drawback your sword. The one whom you pulled the sword at is the Queen,” the King said as he rose from his seat. “But If I haven’t drawn the sword, I would have been bringing a great calamity to the realm, Your Grace,” he said. “What do you mean?” Lord Taurus asked.

I yelled, wishing someone would hear me above the sounds of the orchestra playing below. “The truth is coming. You cannot run away from it” he repeated like a prayer and pulled me to himself. As I dragged across the floor. I gripped the dresser firmly that he increased his effort to match my resistance and pulled both myself and the dresser. When the furniture was far enough from the wall due to my grip, the sword behind landed with a clang to it. The wooden frame was not strong enough. I needed something else. In a second, I picked the stool I had been sitting in a while ago and lifted it as high as I could before throwing it against his hands.

“Yearnings of the past lie in memories, but yearnings of the present are boundless. The first blade: the thoughts of longing!” “Endless time comes to an end, but this regret endures forevermore. The second blade: the pain of separation!” ... Norvin wielded the sword while reciting the blade’s key principles. His voice was clear and precise, and his actions were swift and sharp. In just ten seconds, seven astonishing sword energies enveloped Andrius from various angles. The sword energy surged like a wave, rapidly approaching. Killing intent howled in the biting cold wind.

The man with the long sword ran to him as quickly as he could and was forcing his sword to stab the neck of the man in front of him. Lixien stepped up and took the sword he was resolute in holding using her power and she held it blade with her index finger and middle finger. The sword shook and the blade crumbled into pieces. Suddenly, in the middle of the commotion, the soldiers who didn’t sense her presence, kneeled and shouted. “May you live in longevity and may the god bless you, Your Majesty; the Empress.”

He felt the welt on his back as it swelled. "Pick it up yer bastard child of a thousan' fathers!" Another strike followed as Sethlzaar scrambled for the weapon. "That is clearly no way to strike an' yer know that," Ordan cursed. The cane continued, repeating its descent, subsiding only when Sethlzaar's sword was back in his hand.

had never been sharper. "Orion, Malakor, Nalvath—on me," Lucian rumbled, gripping his heavy broadsword with an unyielding intensity. "The distraction at the gates won't last forever. Let's go break their toys."

“This House is dividing itself, Hypatos. There will be those who side with Eugenius, who see his power and his title and choose to ignore his corruption. They will call me a reckless boy, a usurper. They will question my legitimacy.” He held the sword out, not to me, but as if presenting it to an unseen council. “This is my answer. This is proof. That my cause is just. That my supporters are willing to sacrifice everything. That my steward, my friend, my brother-in-arms, would face down gods and monsters for me. In a time of division, this sword is not a weapon to be wielded. It is a standard to be rallied behind. It is proof.” The air in the arena was a living, breathing entity, a roaring,

Not a metaphor. Not a storm. A tear in the very threads of the world. From it stepped Liora. But not the one I knew. This version wore gold and violet armor etched with sigils of old gods. Her hair was braided with strands of starlight. She held a sword I’d only ever seen in cursed prophecy books. Soulforged. Unbreakable. Meant only for the hand that betrayed heaven. “Step aside,” she said, voice like the echo of a bell tolling the end of time.