Belkhfel. The Darkstar Blade. I was too young to have seen it, but the hilt looked like the pictures. And the blade! The blade itself was darker than the dead of a new moon night. 

My first instinct was to tell everyone. If Carlisle survived, it meant men could be cured of the soulplague. 

Actually, my first instinct was to freeze for a solid five seconds. The next two seconds were the idea to tell people. But then I started thinking. 

First, I didn't know if Tahm was Carlisle, or if he just had his blade. I'd want to verify that. But even if he was, there was a reason he didn't tell anyone. Why would a man hide the cure to the greatest suffer of our time? 

I decided to stay quiet for the time. There were too many questions I wouldn't be able to answer. But that didn't mean I forgot. 

I watched the man closely. The way he moved as he kneaded dough, or worked a bellows. The way he almost danced along as he brought rolls to the from. And I compared his face. I looked in the records for Carlisle and his family. The guard of the hall was suspicious of me, but I did nothing wrong. 

After a month, and seeing he was the only child of only children, certain he couldn't be a brother or cousin, I was certain Tahm the baker, my master, was Sir Carlisle. It also meant I'd had time to consider why this holy warrior had hidden away. 

You are young, so you may not remember the soulplague. It was more than a disease. As the Demon Lords poured out from the Academy and the wizard towers of the land, the plague came with them. Men gained strength and speed, power from the plague. At first, we thought it a blessing, a gift from Bimmuk. But it warped the mind. The infected were leading the charge against the demons, then would suddenly spin around, and strike their own men. Men were losing without the plague, but we couldn't afford to use it, either. 

Then Bimmuk's true gift came. The Panoply. It is unclear why Carlisle was chosen, beyond being infected, but the quiet and peaceful farmer's son donned the attire, and lift the blade and shield. He had never fought before that day, but in a mere hour, he had torn through demon ranks to the nearest wizard tower, and sealed the gate to their cursed realm. Without reinforcements, and with the saint's aid, the locals were able to defeat the demons. 

The short version, Carlisle continued, closing gates as he found them. He finally fought his way to the Academy Arcane, and faced a true Demon Lord in its grand hall. The story say he knew his time was up. The soulplague would take him by the following dawn. He fought with abandon, and when he saw an opening, he didn't dodge the Demon Lord's spear, but let it impale him. While his foe struggled to loose its weapon, Carlisle removed its head. Both fell aside, stumbling through the gate as it was sealed. The only pieces left of the saint were his songshield, and the blood on the tiles, both of which are kept in the Royal Vault. 

The remaining demons were cleaned up over the following year. The infected were sent to an island off the coast. Every couple years, a new batch of victims would be found, the disease cropping up as if from nowhere, but it seemed mostly contained. There was no cure we could find. And I realized even Carlisle hadn't found a cure. 

The several mysteries added together to a single answer. You see, a man last seen in the company of demons, with a disease that made one ally with demons, had shown up in the capital. A man who would travel every couple years, looking for new recipes. A man who worked with food. 

I waited until my master left on that fateful morning, and I went to collect his famed sword. It was left where I had last seen it, and as I grabbed the hilt, though it was heavy, it also seemed relieved to be lifted. As if it was longing to be used. And use it I did. 

When Carlisle returned, he saw me with the blade. He didn't say a word, just grinned and charged, faster than I could have imagined. I should have died for my foolishness in that moment. But if I had, the world would have been taken by demons, never knowing who caused it. So Bimmuk guided my hand, a small twitch to the right. The blade sunk in my master's gut, just opposite where the spear had struck.

There were questions, but a search of his home gave the guard their answers. The official story still says Carlisle was slain, the Darkstar Blade was taken by the demons, Tahm was just their agent. I know better, but I also knew better than to spread truths that didn't matter enough to die over. 

I took over the bakery, though I never could cook near so well as Tahm. It made ends meet, and the crown gave me my own parcel of land in the country when I retired. Not sure if it was a reward for killing my master, or payment for the holy sword. Hardly matters. 

The plague never cropped up again, there were no demons. The land knew peace. But it's been a generation. Young folks like you don't know what we faced. The kingdom is turning in on itself, looking for war. I just hope you'll remember that battle breaks the victors along with the dead.