Only a tenth of the hall truly cared about blades.
The rest were onlookers for now, waiting to see what others valued before they decided what to pretend they valued.
Eldric did not bother explaining. He let the stage do the talking.
The blade was visible. Its length, its shape, the promise of balance in its line.
Yet no one could truly see it. A thin fabric wrapped the weapon, and the cloth did more than hide.
It blurred. Reality smeared around it. Eyes slid off the details as if the mind refused to hold them.
Frowns appeared among the few who had been targeted. Suspicion. Annoyance.
Eldric watched it and seemed pleased. He chuckled.
"Can't see what it is. How about I let you hold the blade?"
That changed the air. People believed him now.
An old man who dared pass a weapon around in a room full of hungry hands was either a fool or a monster.
Eldric was not a fool. Ghost attendants selected a few and moved among the couches.
