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Description
Commission for the wonderful representing a scene from her fanfiction:

"You have proven yourself able to fight," Hassrath snorted, still standing with his sword outstretched, defending the death of Truss's weapon. "Anyone can fight. Some do it better than others and some rise to the challenge only when tested. It is nothing special. A battlefield is littered with them and it is their blood that soaks the earth. You are better than that and that is why we are here."

Hassrath nodded to Cullen, who pulled the sword strapped to his hip free and unceremoniously threw it at Truss. Catching it reflexively because his mind was still trying to make sense of this entire situation, it took a moment for what was in his hand to register. This sword was... exquisite. There was no other word for it. It was heavy, its folded steel shone in the light straight and true. The fuller was crisp, the guard simple but etched deep with the Templar heraldry. The grip was pale polished ironbark, the pommel etched with Chantry heraldry. This sword was nothing he could ever hope to afford, some nobles couldn't afford this level of craftsmanship and he looked at Cullen, his confusion even plainer.

"That," Hassrath lowered his sword, using it to indicate the weapon that was now starting to glow about the edges in the hot coals, "Is the weapon of a fighter. The one you hold is the tool of a warrior and if you wish to be a warrior, then you must earn it."

Description
Commission for the wonderful representing a scene from her fanfiction:

"You have proven yourself able to fight," Hassrath snorted, still standing with his sword outstretched, defending the death of Truss's weapon. "Anyone can fight. Some do it better than others and some rise to the challenge only when tested. It is nothing special. A battlefield is littered with them and it is their blood that soaks the earth. You are better than that and that is why we are here."

Hassrath nodded to Cullen, who pulled the sword strapped to his hip free and unceremoniously threw it at Truss. Catching it reflexively because his mind was still trying to make sense of this entire situation, it took a moment for what was in his hand to register. This sword was... exquisite. There was no other word for it. It was heavy, its folded steel shone in the light straight and true. The fuller was crisp, the guard simple but etched deep with the Templar heraldry. The grip was pale polished ironbark, the pommel etched with Chantry heraldry. This sword was nothing he could ever hope to afford, some nobles couldn't afford this level of craftsmanship and he looked at Cullen, his confusion even plainer.

"That," Hassrath lowered his sword, using it to indicate the weapon that was now starting to glow about the edges in the hot coals, "Is the weapon of a fighter. The one you hold is the tool of a warrior and if you wish to be a warrior, then you must earn it."