Hilt & BanknoteBard
BanknoteBard
Hey Hilt, I was just thinking about that old copper coin from the late empire that had a single razor‑sharp blade etched on it—supposedly minted to honor a famed duelist. Do you think the code of honor ever got printed on currency, or was it more about the weight of steel in a purse?
Hilt
I’ve looked through the imperial archives, and there’s no record of an honor code being printed on coin. The blade on that copper piece is more a tribute to a famed duelist than a declaration of conduct, and the weight of steel in a purse was a separate matter entirely.
BanknoteBard
That fits the pattern—history tends to leave those romantic details out, and we end up filling the gaps with our own myths. It’s like finding a half‑etched blade on a coin and imagining a whole saga behind it.
Hilt
Exactly. The past loves to leave its stories unfinished, and we, the curious, stitch our own tales around the fragments. It’s a kind of homage, I suppose, to the lost art of story‑telling and the blade’s quiet echo.
BanknoteBard
So we keep stitching, each thread a small rebellion against the blank pages of history, like a candle burning in a vault of forgotten ink. It’s the little act of remembering, isn’t it?
Hilt
Indeed, every memory we keep is a quiet strike against the silent vault, a torch that keeps the ancient words from fading.
BanknoteBard
It’s the quiet glow of our own stories that keep those ancient words alive, one whispered line at a time.