This attractive cup-hilted rapier takes aesthetic cues from a sword we were lucky enough to handle at the Grand Master's Palace Armoury in Valletta. The hand-forged filework to the quillons and knucklebow are taken directly from the original, as is the shape of the pommel. While the hilt is sized for our client's large hands and built to be durable with its hardened steel cup, it maintains a certain delicacy in its appearance.
The balance is nimble and responsive, and modelled as closely as possible on the feel of the original sword while maintaining the safe flex and edges of a fencing blade. Tapering from 8mm stock, the blade is slender yet authoritative, with a central balance that should excel in the bind and the thrust while holding the central line.
The sword is named for its ancestry, with Cassiere being the name of the first Grand Master to take up residence in the Grand Master's Palace.
Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar custom sword would cost and contact us with your enquiry.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 123cm
Blade length: 109.5cm
Blade width at shoulder: 2.4cm
Blade stock: 8mm
Quillon span: 27.5cm
Grip length: 8.5cm
Grip and pommel: 12.5cm
Point of balance: 6cm
Weight: 1250g
Ambidextrous
Fencing safe edges, tip and flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and cup hilt are blackened to a matte finish.
The cup features a rolled rim, under straight round-section quillons with double swellings to the terminals. This motif is repeated to the terminal of the D-shaped knucklebow, which also features carved swellings.
The flattened mushroom-shaped pommel is finished with a faceted nut.
The oak grip is half wrapped in braided steel and copper wire, finished with Turk's head knots to top and bottom.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Temporal Touchstone∴
Shadows cling to painted walls like spectres of the past as you tiptoe through the dark, quiet halls, the air thick with the musk of ages past. Suits of armour stand like silent sentinels, their polished surfaces reflecting slivers of moonlight but their blank faces giving nothing away.
The great stone lions at the top of the steps eye you with an imposing stillness, their stony gaze unwavering. You impulsively nod your head to them as you slip past into the armoury, seeing them as unlikely co-conspirators.
And then you are alone, and suddenly very small, lost in a forest of pikes and pole arms, dwarfed by the great wheels of blades adorning the walls. Every glimmer of muted light in the long glass cases makes your stomach somersault.
Your eyes dance across the array of weapons, some gilded and engraved, others bearing the marks of battles long past. Your gaze settles on a solitary rapier, remarkable in its elegant simplicity. A matte black cup and long, straight quillons. A slender blade gleaming with quiet confidence.
“That’s it,” you whisper to yourself, fingers brushing lightly over the rapier's hilt. You think you feel a resonance beneath your fingers, as it the very steel vibrates with history untold.
Something disturbs the rippling waves of your imaginings — the very real sound of leather soles slapping against marble floors. Your heart quickens as you realise your presence has been noted.
Instinctively you retreat into the shadows, weighing your options. The rapier, now clutched in your hand, feels as weighty as it does ethereal. As the footsteps close the distance, you steel yourself for the inevitable clash of intentions.