“Not so fast, Summoned. Whose your master?”

I’d been waiting for the question. In fact, I’d been eager for it. There was a difference between those who had real power, and those who just wished they did. The really powerful movers and shakers of the world tended to remain quiet, hide in the shadows and pull strings without taking the limelight. Why bother with the public gaze? Why face backlash for your decisions? Instead, it was always easier to control others and let them do your bidding, and take the fall if it came. In the meantime, the powerful bided their time, and twisted the world in whatever direction they wished.

I had no idea if Aastor was actually that powerful. But DreAn didn’t know who I worked for, and if I worked for someone truly connected or powerful, I wouldn’t shout their name from the rooftops. Instead, I smiled knowingly, and bowed low.

“I am most apologetic, but I cannot disclose the name of my Employer.” I cleared my throat. “But rest assured, they shall be more than willing to invest heavily in your enterprise if it proves to be worth it.”

The crowd seemed to be less primed for a brawl now, and instead seemed to be intrigued. Clearly, I was putting forth enough of an air of mystery to put on a show for them. To drive the point home again, I opened the pouch of money, and showed it off, speaking in a louder voice.

“The wealth you see is but a fraction of their fortune.” I turned around, and showed a few random crowd members the coins. “Surely, if your wares are as fine as you claim, we can strike an agreement of some kind.”

“However, I do not believe they are fine.” Ellem’s confidence had made a stunning return. The no-nonsense nature of hers had slowly re-asserted itself, and she was clearly still grappling with her rage at being spat on. In fairness, so was I. “In fact, I would wager that all your wares are of the same quality as that shield: Scrap.”

Perhaps we had used too many words, and goaded DreAn too much. The man looked apoplectic, veins throbbing in his forehead as he looked like he might explode. However, the crowd was getting warmed up again at Ellem’s challenge. DreAn seemed to be torn between his desire for money and his desire to somehow show both of us up. As a sidenote, the fact that he had not actually tried to hit either of us yet made me feel fairly hopeful: Either he wasn’t as much of a hothead as he seemed to be at first glance, or he was but the law did not permit people to unilaterally attack Summoned indiscriminately.

“FINE!!” He finally made up his mind. “I’ll sell to you, but I want a fair price. This shield here? 2 Gold Crowns.”

DreAn was pointing at the pretty blue tower shield that Ellem had insulted earlier. Even though the sign next to it said it was on sale for 1 Gold Crown, apparently DreAn had decided to double the price. A premium for being insulted.

“Of course. Certainly, not out of the question. But perhaps I could judge the piece myself?” I didn’t wait for him to reply. Common courtesy in a Market like this would indicate that I was allowed to at least inspect the wares. Even if he had no respect for me because I was Summoned, I didn’t think he would deny me something that basic. Getting close to the Shield, I started to inspect it, and then called Ellem over.

“What flaw did you point out earlier?”

“The steel banding on the outside is misshapen. Right here.” She pointed out a slightly chunkier part of the shield, one that was slathered in golden paint. “Strike it with a sword, or a hammer. It will immediately falter. The shield will still function, but it will be unwieldy.”

Ellem’s recall of facts and her mastery of craftsmanship was coming back to her at quite the pace. Being caught up in the moment was helping as well: She was concentrating less on specifically analyzing the shield, and was more concerned with putting DreAn in his place.

“Rubbish! My work is the best in Excelsia.” The blacksmith puffed his chest out, and looked ready to pound on it in the same way that an overgrown ape would.

“Good. Then I trust I can test my associate’s claims?” I had him exactly where I wanted him. After all, he couldn’t possibly weasel out of it after having called Ellem a liar. “If she’s wrong, I’ll pay you two Crowns for it.”

Grumbling, he hefted the hammer from his shoulders, and handed it to me. It was large and unwieldy, but not so big that I couldn’t lift it. In any case, I didn’t need to use too much force: The weight of the hammer would do the trick. I just needed to guide it so that it would hit the same spot that Ellem had pointed out. And as luck would have it, a DEX of 28 was going to be more than enough to accomplish that task. I set the shield on the ground, not paying attention to DreAn’s rumbling. If I was wrong, I’d be buying the shield anyway. Hefting the hammer, I positioned it over my shoulder, and with a jerk, swung it in a neat arc over my head.

I could see the hammer in slow motion as it pounded through the air. My eye was breaking every moment down into individual moments, and I was processing each of them neatly. A little more to the right…no, too much. Just a bit to the left, and a little higher. Yes, right there! The hammer struck true.

CLANGGGGGG!!!

The hammer smashed into the upturned steel banding. The banding was basically two steel strips overlayed on the shield in the form of a cross. The imperfection was on the right side of the shield face, a slight section where the banding was weaker than expected. As the hammer smashed into it, the body of the tower shield tried to resist the damage, but the weight of the hammer proved to be the shield’s undoing. One strip broke in half as the hammerhead pushed the imperfect piece of steel banding through the shield, leaving a gaping hole in the shield.

“I must say, Sir, that a shield with an eyehole is quite an ingenious idea. However, it might not be what my Employer is searching for now.” I handed the hammer back to DreAn, trying my hardest not to grin in his face. The shield was more or less useless: The hole was more than enough for an attacker to penetrate through it, either with a sword or a spear or an arrow. My skill in Haggling was beginning to kick in as well, and I began to speak in a nearly uninterrupted flow.

“Additionally, the material is cheap. If a single piece of steel can punch through the face, the iron must have been tempered with something far weaker. The steel banding is decorative at best, and lethal at worst. Given the weight and size of the shield, it is clearly intended to protect one from nearly any attack: And yet a simple blacksmith’s hammer has destroyed it.” I paused, and turned to Ellem. “Ellem, what would you say is a good price for something of this quality?”

“10 Shackles.”

“Ha! Well, my compatriot is harsh. But I value your skill, DreAn. Perhaps 25 Silver Shields will satisfy you?” It was a quarter of the original price, and an eighth of his “revised” offer. “I can, of course, pay right now.”

“80 Shields. It is good material, and I will fix the hole.”

“Fixing the hole will not make the rest better. 50 Shields….Or perhaps I shall ask my friend to see if there are other issues with it?”

The man’s eyes flamed with anger. I was briefly afraid that he would attempt to kill me on the spot, laws be damned. But instead, he simply nodded, his head stiff.

“Aye. 50 Silvers.” There was a big advantage to having a pouch filled with money: Everyone wanted it’s contents, and that gave me a lot of leverage. After all, DreAn would keep his tongue silent as long as he could still make a profit. Even if he wanted to get rid of us, he’d still happily sell the Shield because, at this point, who else would buy it? It had a hole in it, and the crowd around us had already seen the mockery we’d made of him. This was his way of offloading equipment.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite done. Instead, I began to look around at everything else that was up for display. A brace of silver knives with filigreed handles caught my eye. Enchanting little things they were. The silver was polished to a shine, the metallic handles was well oiled and well-carved, and overall, they looked nearly perfect. 75 Silver Shields, according to the price tag. Well, we’d see about that. I walked over to them, and picked one up. It was a beauty, but before I could say anything, I handed it to Ellem.

To my surprise, she didn’t hold it like a knife. Instead, she attempted to balance it on a single finger, trying to find the center of gravity between the hilt and the blade. The blade wobbled, and then fell into the dirt floor, from where she rescued it. Ellem’s face had a look on it that implied that she was quite annoyed with the knives inability to stay still.

“It is imbalanced.”

Three simple words, but I knew that they were the death knell of any bladed weapon. An imbalanced blade was worse than no blade at all, because it could easily betray you. It could swing too far and pull you off balance, or perhaps it’s weight could be used against the wielder. Calling a blade imbalanced meant that it’s value would drop like a rock, since it wasn’t a fixable problem. After all, it was something that had been introduced into the very design of the weapon: Balacing these knives would almost cost more than forging new ones.

But there were also things here that Ellem wasn’t seeing. However, I’d save those for later.

“Imbalanced? Impossible. Only that one. The others are fine.” At DreAn’s protests, Ellem immediately moved to test them out. Before she could, however, DreAn interrupted. “And if they are indeed imbalanced, I shall personally balance them all until they are perfect! My solemn vow!”

Clever. The salesman that DreAn had evidently swallowed was coming out; By offering to fix the blades to perfection, even though he would likely take a loss or cut his profit down to nothing, he was salvaging his reputation. I couldn’t have that. I could still see the spittle on Ellem’s clothing, even though she’d wiped most of it away.

“Balance is not their only issue I’m afraid.” I spoke up. I’d noticed something about these blades that perhaps only an experienced swordsman would. “Look at these handles.”

“My finest work. Painstakingly carved using only the moon for light, to imbue them with divine beauty.” DreAn was happy to wax lyrical about his wares. Something told me he hadn’t written those lines, but that didn’t matter. At least, not for the moment.

“Yes yes, very good. But imagine holding and fighting with these.” I picked up the silver knife by the blade, and showed the hilt to the crowd. “I may as well ask my opponent to stab me. It would hurt less than this hilt!” With a laugh, I dropped the knife back onto the pedestal it had come from.

“Wh-What? Explain yourself! These knives are beautiful and deadly!” DreAn crossed his arms across his chest. A move borne of insecurity, perhaps? “The finest silver thread was used for that hilt.”

“Why would I wish to buy a knife that stings my hand when I use it? Does this seem comfortable?” I picked up the knife, squeezed it tightly, and then showed my hand to the crowd. “Look at these indentations in my palm. Is this the kind of tool you wish to use when hunting, or fighting?”

The crowd began to murmur. Some of them were clearly on my side. Some agreed with me, but were also wary of publicly voicing an opinion siding with a lowly Summoned. And some were disappointed that DreAn hadn’t beaten me into a pulp yet. But I couldn’t find anyone who was interested in defending DreAn.

“20 Silver Shields, and you shall fix the blade. They are ornamental at best, but the knives would look nice above a fireplace.” Ellem struck home with the final blow.

“20?! That barely covers the cost of making them!” DreAn was stricken. Or perhaps his tiny brain was just attempting to do math. Damn…I was really feeling uncharitable towards this man. “Look at the silver thread! The silver blades!”

Ah, good point. I did mean to talk about that. The fine, mirror like polish was a bit of a giveaway, but I decided to ask just in case.

“How long have these knives been out here?”

“Almost two months. They command a high price, for a good reason!” He snorted. “Unfortunately, not many have use for such knives.”

“Rubbish. These are not silver.” Before I could say anything, Ellem had interrupted again. “If they had been made today morning? Perhaps. But no silver keeps this well.”

“I-It’s magical.”

“Magical?”

“Yes. Magical. Never Rusts!”

It was a claim so preposterous that I didn’t even have to argue with the merchant. After all, this wasn’t really haggling. It was more of a performance, to humiliate DreAn in front of a crowd the way he’d attempted to humiliate Ellem and me. Instead, I just turned around, and pretended to look baffled. In fairness, it could have been true, but that didn’t matter. I just needed to convince everyone else here that DreAn was a liar.

“So magical that you did not mention this fact beforehand?” Before DreAn could say anything, I kept going. “So magical that you did not bother to use it as a selling point? What’s more likely? That these knives are magical silver? Or that they’re simple steel?”

“They are magical, you scoundrel!” Having lost the battle of wits, DreAn had resolved to being louder than me in an attempt to cow me down. It wouldn’t work. I didn’t have my skills, but larger opponents stopped being scary a long, long time ago.

“Right. 12 Silver Shields, because I appreciate your artistry.”

“Never.” DreAn’s lips curled. “I would sooner refuse to sell them at all.”

“Very well. And keep the Shield, won’t you?” I bowed low. “My most sincere apologies that we could not do business.”