Meanwhile, Donald and his Arabian guide wandered the labyrinthine history aisles, searching for anything that might aid the plucky sailor’s quest. Donald’s eyes sparkled at the wealth of knowledge, but his excitement dimmed when he realized that Christianity—the key to the sword’s mystery—was barely represented. Only when he chanced upon a tiny, curtained room did hope flicker anew.

“Gosh… now why would they hide all these books here?” asked Donald.

“Oh, they were going to burn those,” Alumak answered plainly, “Missionaries come here all the time to donate these things. We just end up with a flood of them every other month.”

Donald and Alumak rubbed shoulders as they entered the confined space. Donald grumbled about the lack of room, while Alumak recycled his joke about useless book donations. Donald maneuvered through the narrow passage, as clumps of dust—thicker than cotton—rose around him. If he hoped to uncover any secrets, he’d have to dive into these forgotten tomes without delay.

Donald’s mission was clear:

Find any research that could uncover direct clues that hint towards the existence of the magic sword. They could be references, old messages, glyphs, or even brochures. As long as it was a clue, it would be enough to prove its location, let alone its existence.

Donald quibbled as dust mites tickled the corners of his nostrils. It was not long until Donald had to let out an overweening sneeze. Luckily, Alumak was kind enough to plug his beak. They were in a library after all.

“Thanks,” uttered Donald.

With a bit of luck and dry dust, Donald and Alumak began their research. The two analysts skimmed through rows of donations, dusting off decades of untouched memorabilia. They discovered donations ranging from theological texts to discussions written by former theist ideologues. Between them were earlier editions of the King James Bible. Some of them still had signatures from their previous owners. The flowery manuscript on display was as old as a colonial building.

Seeing so many donations intrigued Alumak. He noted how strange it was for Americans to willingly part with something so tied to their belief system. Though he couldn’t blame them due to the rampant spelling errors found in each passage. But then again, they were written by people his ancestors fought in the Holy Crusades.

“How strange of your culture to just toss out such old books like this,” Alumak observed.

Alumak would open another book, only for an old photograph to fall at his feet. A quick inspection of the photo widened Alumak’s eyes. The photo was quite a sight. Just a mere glance alone was enough to make the Arab’s cheeks white-hot. Alumak believed such a photo should not be left to burn, and decided to stash the photo in his hat for safekeeping.

The pair spent hours behind the curtain, studying every piece of text that they could use to garner clues to the sword’s whereabouts. They skimmed through dozens of theological texts, monographs, and dissertations alike, sorting through works of both Arabic and Christian etymology. Scattered across the floor were notes of their findings. Their work, scribbled in a language only legible to their third eyes.

Donald used various versions of the Bible for his findings, using his pen to underline verses found in the Old Testament. Conversely, Alumak used copies of the Torah to scribble down his findings. Donald’s texts found a few instances of the sword, citing various uses of the term “bladed” in his findings.

According to the Old Testament, the term “bladed” was used when describing its use in battle. It was well known that the Israelites and their enemies used swords as a symbol of victory and war. Another instance of the text was treated as a metaphor—a play on words meant to cut a man down with his fiery tongue.

“Oh boy…” Donald awed, “If Uncle Scrooge saw these, he’d flip.” Funnily, he turned the page to find the passage about passing unwise judgment.

Donald’s interests would deepen when he scrolled back to Genesis. In a particular passage, the chapter chronicled the separation between man and the Garden of Eden. Specifically, the garden was locked away by a flaming sword. The description of the sword’s power seemed to connect with Donald’s notes about the Sword of Michael. The inference made Donald grin with excitement. He knew he was getting close. He just knew it!

It was here that Alumak offered his findings to his excitable companion. The Arab lorded over Donald’s findings with texts of his own accord. Alumak’s texts insisted the sword was one of many weapons used by an entity of light, passed down to Earth by the angel, Gabriel. His findings had great merit. That was until Alumak insisted that they all came from a different god altogether.

For the first time in his life, Donald actually felt insulted. Then, almost on cue, he would clash with Alumak. Neither of them appeared to be the religious type, but in the heat of research, a clash of ideological minds can happen, even with the most uninformed of men.

“I’m telling you, Alumak. The findings are not based on man’s derailment,” Donald argued.

“Is this based on the Great Muhammad, or your so-called ‘King David’?” Alumak countered.

“King David!” Donald shot back, “And I don’t care if there are inaccuracies! The text says it, so it must be true!”

“Oh, so you agree that Zulfiqar is real, huh!?” Alumak steamed.

“Its called a sword, you dolt! And it’s right there! You can’t miss the citation!” Donald fumed.

“Your beliefs are as dull as your bill, duck!”

“Your research is as flat as your beard, dog!”

Of course, two minds of wildly different beliefs would lead to a clash. Not only did they point out different theories to one another, but they were quick to mention the number of supposed inaccuracies and apocryphal interpretations of certain events.

It took some behind-the-curtain head-bashing before the answer literally fell on their heads. The book in question was one whose author held intimate knowledge of the spiritual connection between man, warfare, and the weapons used throughout time. The hefty volume bounced off their head and landed on a page that chronicled the history of the Sword of Michael.

As written in prior books, the Sword of Michael was a broadsword given to Michael by God to smite Lucifer and his army of fallen angels. The passage included an author’s rendition of the sword as described in the Old Testament, adding an additional block of text that said:

Alternatively named [St. Michael’s Line], modern theologians used the Sword of Michael as a connective tissue. The line symbolized the strike made by the archangel that sent the Devil and his army back to the depths of Hell. In modern times, the line is honored by a series of shrines that began in Ireland and ended in the place that many of the Eastern Mediterranean call “The Holy Land.”

The answer was in the footnote. It seemed to speak the correct language because so soon he found his answer, Donald’s pestering migraine had revived. The pain caused Donald to shout, “That’s it! We gotta go to- MM-MM-MMPH… MMM!! Hey, would’ja cut that- MRRMPH!”

“Hush. Hush your voice, friend!” Alumak silenced.

“What for?” Donald spat back, “We’re so close!”

Alumak spoke darkly of the path ahead. To him, the Holy Land was a place that was the most traumatic. In his time, he had seen the strongest will be broken by the slight of hand. Some of which came from his own men. The Holy Land was not a place to be taken lightly. Those who seek it aim for control. Others, however, believed that conquering the land will bless them with immortality. Many a man would go in, but almost no one came home.

The reminder hardened Alumak. He held back as he rubbed the creases of his palm. The calluses were painful reminders of his time. Being a survivor, he swore never to return to that warzone. Though, it made him question why he was given a second chance over anyone else. He wanted nothing to do with that place, yet his partner desired it. Alumak would warn Donald of a similar fate if he chose to go there. He said “a great death” would be at his door if he set foot in that wretched place.

“I am happy to help with you thus far,” Alumak uttered, “But it would be foolish to pursue this any further.”

On one hand, Alumak was right. He would just be putting himself and his family at risk. But at the same time, he was urged to be here. As intelligibly as he could put it, this was Donald’s calling. And he believed that one should never back down from their calling, even if it meant he’d be on Excedrin for the next month or two.

After a long review, Donald sighed and extended his hand. He looked to Alumak and said, “Well… I wonder if you’d be open to helping one more time?”

A concerned look drew on Alumak’s face. He knew very little about this sailor, yet his words hit deep in his heart. Alumak’s concerns worsened, knowing that he would surely be in dire straits if he left the sailor alone… let alone leave him to suffer. But Donald stood firm in his decision, even adding an incentive to the offer.

“I might let you have a chance at my uncle’s riches if we live,” Donald incentivized. Emphasis on the word “riches.”

Alumak accepted upon hearing the magic word. If it meant getting him out of this backsand city and be a penny richer, he was in. The Appraised Arab threw his hands up and gave Donald an invigorated hug.

“You are a shrewd negotiator, Donald Duck,” Alumak laughed.

“Yeah…” Donald stressed, “I aim to please!”