Once there was a land dominated by a single weapon smith.  Due to his incredible speed at forging, this smith had driven all competing smiths out of business.  The fact that his speedy work was also of vastly inferior quality didn't seem to matter much.

  With so many swords at its disposal, the land had become quite wealthy and powerful.  Warriors in this land lived quite a luxurious lifestyle, depending upon their station and status.

  So it was that a young smith journeyed to this land to seek his fortune.  He had studied the swords that every single warrior used in this wealthy land and found their weakness.  He had spent moons folding, tempering and smithing a masterful blade, one that would slice right through the flawed weapons mass produced in this land.  He might not have much skill with a blade, but disarming the opponent would give him all the edge he needed to defeat any warrior.

  Indeed, as he challenged warriors and dueled his way up the social ladder of the land, his plan worked perfectly.  With but one stroke he snapped his opponent's sword in two, forcing them to forfeit.  Eventually he rose to challenge the highest ranked warrior in all the lands.  A bonafide, certified, and modern designized Defender of Justice.

  The two met in the honor field at dawn on the appointed day.  The Defender was swishing his fancy custom sword about with blazing speed.  The young smith looked at the blade and laughed.  It was so thin he was amazed the air wasn't snapping it in two.

  The Defender of Justice did not take kindly to his opponent snickering.  He boasted his prowess and began his assault.  The smith was somewhat surprised at the speed of the Defender, barely managing to get his masterful blade in front of the oncoming assault in time to block.

  Block the strike the young smith did, right in front of his face, which wore a confident grin.  The grin quickly faded, giving way to an expression of horror as the Defender's sword shattered upon impacting his much stronger blade.  Hundreds of shards of steel continued on towards the young smith's face with all the force of the original strike.

  Blinded and screaming in agony, the smith fell to the ground in defeat.  The defender, with naught more than a hilt left, made the most of this turn of events and began to mock and ridicule the smith.  The smith could do nothing but writhe on the ground in agony.  Perhaps some day his sight would return to him and he could see the lesson he had not considered in his plot to seize a life of luxury:

Sometimes quantity is more important than quality.