Once Riven was dismissed from the Duke’s chamber, he was immediately escorted towards the royal armory to pick from within a weapon of his choosing.
Up until this point, Riven had never given much serious thought towards what sort of weapon he wished to master for the rest of his life, as although he had received basic combat training beneath Garron using a wooden sword, it was not a weapon that he had locked on to either.
However, since the Duke was offering him the opportunity to select any weapon from the armory, Riven decided that there was little point in making up his mind beforehand.
He would enter the armory, examine whatever weapons were stored within and choose whichever one appealed to him the most.
However, what Riven had severely underestimated was the sort of weaponry that could be found within the private treasury of one of the Four Great Ducal Houses of the Valdrak Empire.
The Dawnriver royal armory was located deep within the oldest portion of the White Castle, several floors beneath ground level where ordinary servants were apparently forbidden from entering without written authorization.
Two armed guards checked the Duke’s sealed permission before allowing Riven through the first reinforced gate, after which another pair escorted him down a narrow staircase towards a second checkpoint guarded by four Inferno Rank Ascendants.
There, Riven was searched from head to toe for any storage artefacts.
His sleeves were checked, his pockets emptied, and even the soles of his shoes were inspected before one of the Wardens finally pressed his palm against a metallic plate embedded beside the entrance.
Aether flowed from the man’s hand.
Several glowing symbols briefly appeared across the enormous steel door before a complicated series of mechanisms began turning somewhere behind the walls.
Clunk... Clunk... Clunk...
One lock released after another.
Only when the final mechanism disengaged did the enormous door slowly begin moving inwards, revealing yet another corridor beyond it.
’How many layers of security does one armory need?’
Riven wondered, as he followed the guards farther underground before encountering another checkpoint, followed by another locked gate, until eventually even he lost track of how many separate doors stood between the treasury and the rest of the White Castle.
Only at the final entrance were his escorts ordered to remain behind.
"His Grace has granted you permission to select a single weapon, Young Lord."
One of the guards informed him before unlocking the final door.
"You may inspect anything inside, but whatever you decide upon will be recorded when you leave."
Riven nodded in acknowledgement before stepping through alone.
The door closed heavily behind him.
For several moments, he simply stood there.
Rows upon rows of weapons stretched throughout the enormous chamber before him, displayed upon wooden racks, stone pedestals, reinforced cabinets and glass cases that seemed to continue farther than he could properly see from the entrance.
There were swords by the hundreds.
Longswords, shortswords, sabres, curved blades, enormous two-handed greatswords and thin duelling weapons occupied several entire sections of the treasury, while spears, halberds, axes, hammers, bows, daggers and stranger weapons Riven did not even recognize filled the remaining walls.
However, it took him only a few seconds to realize that these were no ordinary weapons.
A faint crimson glow surrounded one sword despite nobody touching it, while another blade had tiny sparks of electricity periodically travelling between its crossguard and pommel.
One enormous battleaxe rested upon a reinforced stone pedestal covered in cracks, as although Riven could not understand why, the weapon seemed impossibly heavy despite appearing no larger than several ordinary axes he had previously seen.
There were weapons covered in frost despite the room being comfortably warm, bows whose strings appeared to have been fashioned from strands of glowing Aether, and daggers carved from materials that resembled neither metal nor bone.
’These are all Aether artifacts...’
Riven realized, as his earlier indifference towards choosing a weapon disappeared almost immediately.
He slowly approached the nearest rack.
A polished longsword immediately caught his attention, its silver blade carrying thin golden markings that stretched from the guard almost all the way towards its tip.
Riven wrapped his fingers around the hilt before carefully lifting it.
The instant the weapon left its resting place, the golden markings brightened.
A strange warmth travelled through his palm.
"Huh..."
Riven muttered as he experimentally moved the sword through the air.
Despite its size, the weapon felt remarkably light, while every movement seemed smoother than it had any right to be, almost as though the blade itself were assisting the direction of his swing.
A small plaque beneath its resting place identified it.
Sunpiercer.
Flame-Attuned Longsword.
Forged for Sir Kaiven Dawnriver, Imperial Year 814.
Riven stared at the inscription for several moments before carefully returning the weapon.
It was impressive.
However, nothing about holding it made him immediately think that this was the weapon he wished to carry for the rest of his life.
He continued onwards.
Several racks later, Riven discovered a black spear standing almost as tall as two men, its shaft covered in tiny inscriptions while the narrow spearhead possessed an unusual dark-blue sheen.
The moment he lifted it, his arms sank several inches.
"Heavy..."
Riven muttered before adjusting his grip.
Even with his reconstructed body, the spear possessed considerably more weight than its appearance suggested, although once he stabilized it, he could immediately imagine how devastating a thrust from such a weapon might become.
The plaque beneath it described an artifact capable of temporarily increasing its own weight whenever Aether was channelled through the shaft, allowing an experienced wielder to strike with considerably greater force at the moment of impact.
Riven tested its balance briefly before returning it as well.
Interesting, but once again, it did not feel right.
He wandered deeper into the treasury.
At one point he picked up a pair of curved daggers whose edges became almost transparent after being supplied with a small amount of Aether.
Elsewhere, he found a heavy warhammer capable of releasing stored kinetic force from previous impacts, although after swinging the enormous weapon twice, Riven quickly decided that carrying something so cumbersome everywhere would become irritating.
Another sword possessed an edge that continuously produced frost.
A short spear could apparently discharge a concentrated burst of Storm Aether through whatever it pierced.
One particularly strange bow required no physical arrows whatsoever, instead using the wielder’s Aether to form projectiles along its string, although Riven quickly returned that weapon after realizing how rapidly even a single arrow drained his limited Ember Rank reserves.
The farther he ventured, the stranger the collection became.
Some weapons had clearly been created by master Forgers specifically for members of House Dawnriver, while others appeared to be trophies captured during wars, purchased from distant kingdoms or inherited from powerful Ascendants who had died centuries earlier.
There were enough priceless artifacts inside the chamber to equip a small army, and yet Riven had been told that he could simply choose one.
That realization finally made him slow down.
Picking whatever looked impressive suddenly seemed incredibly foolish.
This was perhaps the only opportunity he would ever receive to freely select something from a collection accumulated across centuries, and once he left the treasury, he doubted the Duke would allow him to return merely because he regretted his decision.
So instead of continuing to grab whatever caught his eye, Riven stopped near the centre of the armory and looked across the seemingly endless rows surrounding him.
’A weapon that I could master for the rest of my life...’
He thought, as his eyes moved slowly across swords, spears, daggers, axes and countless stranger artifacts waiting silently upon their displays.
For once, Riven decided there was absolutely no reason to hurry.
He had been given his choice of the Dawnriver treasury.
And he intended to inspect enough of it to make that choice count.
’But what sort of weapon do I want? Do I want to become a swordsman, a spearman, an archer?’
Riven wondered, as he slowly imagined himself wielding each of those weapons.
A sword certainly seemed like the most natural choice.
Most nobles he had encountered carried one, and there was an undeniable elegance associated with swordsmanship that suited the image Lucius had spent months creating for him.
A spear offered considerably greater reach, while the heavier frame of his reconstructed body would likely allow him to generate tremendous force behind every thrust.
Then there was the bow, which would allow him to eliminate enemies from a distance before they ever had the opportunity to approach him, although relying entirely upon ranged combat hardly appealed to him either.
’Sword... spear... bow...’
Riven contemplated, as his gaze travelled between the different weapon racks while he tried imagining which one would feel the most natural within his hands.
However, before he could settle upon any of them, something strange suddenly happened.
A voice emerged from somewhere deep within him.
"Halberd..."
It whispered.
Riven immediately froze, his eyes widening slightly as he instinctively looked over his shoulder, expecting to find someone standing behind him, yet the treasury remained completely empty.
"You need to wield a halberd."
The voice whispered again, as this time, Riven was certain that those words had not come from anywhere inside the treasury.
They had come from somewhere within him.
’What the hell?’
Riven wondered, as his expression slowly tightened while he remained completely still, listening carefully for anything else.
Several seconds passed without another sound, until eventually his gaze shifted towards the section of the treasury where dozens of polearms were displayed across reinforced racks and stone pedestals.
Curve-top spears, glaives, halberds and other strangely shaped polearms occupied the distant wall, with some appearing elegant enough to belong within a noble collection, while others looked like brutal instruments designed for little beyond piercing armour and tearing through flesh.
Riven stared towards them.
He had never seriously considered wielding a halberd before, as compared to the sword, spear or bow, the weapon had barely crossed his mind while considering his options.
Yet now, for reasons he could not properly explain, his attention refused to leave the section containing them.
’Halberd...’
He repeated internally, as slowly, he began walking towards them.