Klaus stared at her.
He looked at the proud grieving noble daughter who was desperately searching for a reason to keep going and desperately trying to prove that she wasn't just broken baggage.
Internally, Klaus let out a quiet sigh.
'She really has no idea that I'm the one who ruined her life,' Klaus thought, the familiar bitter pang of irony touching his chest.
He didn't refuse her.
Klaus reached over his shoulder, gripping the heavy leather sheath of his weapon.
With a metallic shing, he unslotted his massive Soul Broadsword and held it out toward her by the hilt.
"Knock yourself out," Klaus drawled lazily. "Just don't dull the edge."
Tasha's eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thank you!"
She reached out, wrapping both of her hands securely around the heavy, leather-wrapped hilt of the colossal broadsword.
"I've got it… WOAH!"
The exact second Klaus let go of the weapon, the sheer, unimaginable physical weight of the Soul Broadsword hit Tasha like a falling boulder.
