“I don’t really have anything against you or what you’re trying to do. I’m victim of an innate tendency to oppose.”

Wreathed in shadows, the dark lord stirred uneasily on his throne of skulls.

“Plus, the rewards outweigh the risks. You see, after I run you through with this pretty little sword, the people will love me. I’ll have the whole realm in the palm of my hand.” The hero held up an armored fist as if he did hold a little world in it.

The dark lord, sweaty hands keeping a white-knuckle grip on the arms of his seat, manages to speak. “But… the sword. Only the pure of heart…”

“Oh, it isn’t the original. No one knows that, ‘course. It’s amazing what a guy can do with an old book of enchantments.”

“Very well.” The lord stood up and stepped forward. The light revealed an old, haggard face with receding white hair. He tried to look brave. "You’ll not kill me without a fight.

A grin spreads across the hero’s face, not quite reaching his eyes. “Wasn’t expecting to.”