I have very few things of value left. My life, my name, my few allies, weak though they are as yet, and perhaps most precious of all, my Gemsword. Channel for magic, symbol of power, rare and beautiful, that sword is the only solid link I have to my past. As much as it is worth in coin, it is worth even more in memories.

There's an underground market for Gemswords, this I know. Sometimes the swords sold there are forgeries, sometimes stolen merchandise, carefully altered so as not to be recognised. Very occasionally, the Gemswords sold on the black market are true and original, made by a single rogue Mage-Smith whose identity and location are unknown.

I must find that rogue. My own Gemsword is by far too notorious, too unique to be used, much less sold. I cannot bear to damage it enough to disguise it, and the mere sight of it would be more than enough to mark me as the hidden King. I am not yet ready to prove to the Universe that I am, indeed, alive.

But I will need a Gemsword, in the years to come. I will need the power and status only a Gemsword can give me. There is little enough hope that I will ever succeed in regaining the life I lost, or even surviving long enough to make anything of the life I have now, but a Gemsword, at least, would give me the tiniest chance to try.

How I will find the Gemsword maker, how I will afford one of his most precious blades, I do not know. It is but the first of many unreachable goals in my future. And that, too, will perhaps one day be a source of hope -- if I can acquire a second true Gemsword, surely I can conquer the Universe.