Just one bite

A promise and a kiss of affection given, and the door was opened to a veritable wonderland. The enthusiasm in Ciaran's behavior was infectious, and the more excited he got, the wider Artorias' smile grew. As soon as he let his giddy son loose in the armory, Ciaran was off like a shot, sniffing at everything and taking in the sights. It warmed the Aegis' heart to see his children so fascinatedly exploring their world and taking an interest in their father's passions as well. It was this youthful innocence that he knew he had to protect. His own childhood had been marred with strife, conflict, and tragedy. So long as he lived, none of his children would ever know such hardships as he had.

When he presented the dagger to Ciaran to inspect, Art very carefully watched where his son's nose and paw went, prepared to snatch his son by the wrist if he ventured a little too close to the sharpened edge. Kea's description of the dagger as a sword for little people brought a barking laugh from the Aegis, his shoulders quivering with laughter at the sheer innocence and wonder of how a child's mind worked. "I hadn't thought about it that way, but I guess you're not wrong!" he remarked with another chuckle. "Remember though, Kea, that even the smallest blade is still a blade. It has the same capacity to destroy as the biggest sword does. Never underestimate something because of its size." Keen amber eyes watched his son's paw move over the smooth edge of the blade, then heard the sharp ting of metal being struck as his claw hit the steel. Artorias gave Ciaran a gentle smile to reassure him nothing was wrong.

"These weapons are incredibly durable," he explained, lifting the dagger in a paw and hitting the blade against the nearby workbench with a thud to show his son that no damage had been done to it. "Now if you want to see a really special kind of metal..." Setting the dagger back on the bench and out of reach of puppy paws, Art stood up and moved over to a locked door in the far corner of the room. He unlatched the door and slipped inside, reemerging a few moments later with a short sword in his jaws. He came to set the blade down before Ciaran. The distinctive ripple patterns that swirled over the steel were unlike any of the other weapons hanging on the walls of the armory. "This is a very special kind of metal," Artorias explained, running his paw pads over the smooth swirls of the Damascus steel blade. "If you really want to hear a blade sing, listen to this." Rapping a claw against the steel, the armory was suddenly filled with the melodic reverberations of the sword, uniquely different than the dagger had been.

"Artorias Carpathius"