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Golvan's Short Story Book

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Golvan's Short Story Book [1]
1 × 2
A strange book with an identical beginning and end. Written by... Golvan? What was the author thinking when he wrote this?

Obtain From Aeira (Generation 14 Season 3: The Story of Golvan)
Price {{{price}}}
Tradability Untradable
Effects {{{effects}}}
Reward {{{reward}}}
Crafted Into
Conditions [[Image:Book toggler {{{conditions}}}.png|{{{conditions}}}|link=]]
Other Servers KR JP TW CN
All in-game book contents belong to devCAT Studio and Nexon America.


One evening, I hath lost myself in napping whilst trying to finish a new story. My drowsy state was not for long, for I woke before my quill went dry. Still that sleep was queer, as though it was for an eternity.

This story, my 808th tale, is what that mystic nap hath wrought. As with the others, this tale hath not an end. But lo, the story must live and be read. It is for their sakes that I will leave this book behind.

To you, my readers, I do adore. But my fiance, my love, is who this tale is for.

Of Blades and Blacksmiths


"What have you done with my blade? This steel is not mine."
The traveler's eyes narrowed and his face was flushed with anger.
"It certainly isn't mine," grumbled the blacksmith. "Take that blade and be off with you."

The traveler drew the foreign blade with fury and leveled it at the blacksmith.
"I have no wish to sully this unknown blade, but so help me, blacksmith, it will find your flesh. Return to me my blade at once. "
The blacksmith rose heavily with a grunt.
A swift thwack from the blacksmith's hammer sent the blade of the traveler flying, skittering across the ground. "See if that brings your sword back, fool. I know not who mistook your blade for theirs, knave, take the one left for you and go."
Red with anger, the traveler picked up the sword and left.


"So strange, how familiar this abandoned sword feels in my hand."
The traveler held the weapon lightly, fingers gripping the leather handle comfortably. The fading light of dusk streamed across the blade twisting through a faint seal engraved on the it.
"This sigil is the mark of the castle past the mountain. Surely, I can find the one who took my sword there."


Traveling through the mountains was a mistake. Long ago, guards had ceased to patrol the area and all manner of vicious creatures had filled their absence. Wild animals emerged from the shadows, teeth bared and snarling. The traveler lashed out with the borrowed blade, sending the monsters to an early grave.
"I've used this blade without permit of its owner. May the gods be fair and forgive me."
His trip that was supposed to take only half a day instead continued well into the night.


It was only after the moon Ladeca had sunk well beneath the seat of the mountains that the traveler arrived at the castle. The hour was late, and only the inn and the town pub were still lit. He found himself at the pub among the shifty and shiftless of the castle town where he sat at the bar and made an order.
"Something with charcoal barkeep, quickly," demanded the traveler.
The bartender nodded and left, quickly returning with the traveler's drink. When the bartender returned, the traveler drew him a picture of his old sword.
"Have you seen anyone carrying a blade like this?"
With a raised eyebrow, the barkeep shook his head and began to walk off. The traveler motioned for the bartender to stay and laid out a few pieces of gold on the table. With a glance at the gold, the bartender nodded towards a man sitting alone at a table.


He only began to speak only after his teeth were bashed in.
"I...I...l left it at a nearby b-b-blacksmith, I swear!"
The traveler released his grip and let the vagrant fall to the floor. With a crack, the traveler jammed the sword into the floorboards between the legs of the man.
"Understand this, thief: The only reason you still draw breath is because I didn't want to sully this sword with the blood of its master."
With this, the traveler mounted his horse and began back down the road.


Spark and smoke continued to fly from the smithy when the traveler arrived. Tired, the traveler dismounted and approached the blacksmith.
He raised his hands about a long-sword's distance apart. "I'm here to retrieve my sword, sir."
Wordlessly, the blacksmith threw a sword to the traveler. His delight turned quickly to confusion as he looked the sword over.
"What have you done with my blade? This steel is not mine."
The traveler's eyes narrowed and his face was flushed with anger.
"It certainly isn't mine," grumbled the blacksmith. "Take that blade and be off with you."