My feet are back under me and I'm scrambling to stand. My body barely hit the floor before the world snapped back into place. I can feel a low growl rumbling out of my throat as I scan the room. Laying on the ground beside me is the hammer. The handle feels smooth as I wrap my fingers around it. As I straighten up from picking it up, I realize the room is deathly quiet. Vaunea is almost frantically trying to look me over, but I wave her off. Instead, I scan the room for anyone looking like they just threw a hammer at me.

"WHO THE EVER LOVING FUCK JUST THREW A HAMMER AT ME?!" When no one makes a sound, I continue on my angry rant. "I want to know now! Because I'm going to return it the same fucking way they sent it to me!"

Thea is nervous. I can feel it through the bond we share. There is no time to worry about that. I'm going to find who threw this damned hammer.

A timid looking man dressed in dark pants and jacket starts walking towards me, hands raised high. His dark brown hair is combed neatly, and he's giving me a book-keeper vibe. His olive skin tone seems a little at odds with the usual pale skin I've seen in the rest of the city.

"Sir, I assure you it was an accident. If you would like to step over this way, we have a healer on staff who will be along directly. No charge of course, and we would be happy to give you a modest discount on any gear you purchase today."

At his mention of a healer, I start to become aware of the blood trickling down my face. With my left hand, I wipe at my nose and feel it throbby in agony. My hand is covered in blood now. With a quick shake, I send crimson droplets flying into the room. The hammer in my hand is pointed at the bookish man in front of me.

"Did you throw this Goddamned hammer!?" He makes a squeak sound and starts to back up quickly.

"No, no, no. I wasn't the one who threw it, I swear!" He starts to cower behind the counter as a set of double doors swing open from behind him. Out steps a man a little shorter than me. He's wearing a sweat stained brown tunic with the sleeves ripped out. A cloth band is on each of his wrists. His arms are heavily muscled, like he spends most days working a hammer. His dark hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, his dark brown eyes are staring straight at me.

"My name is Assad and I'd appreciate it if you left my son alone. I was the one who threw the hammer, but I wasn't throwing it at you." I flip the hammer in my hand, feeling the weight carefully. If I had to guess, I'd put it at around the twenty pound mark. A lot heavier than I would expect from a hammer with such a short handle. If he uses it daily, that would definitely explain his heavily muscled arms.

Without a warning I draw back, throwing the hammer at him as hard as I can. There is a split second where I see his eyes widen in surprise. He moves faster than I expected, turning sideways to barely avoid the flying hunk of steel and wood. When the hammer strikes the wooded doors, they are blown inward with splinters flying wildly. Through the doors, I can see several anvils in a half circle around a huge forge.

The hammer strikes a beam in the center of the room. The sound reminds me of a gunshot in the enclosed space of the shop. All the background noise of hammers working on anvils stops instantly. For a second, the whole building seems to shake while making everyone glance upwards for a split moment.

"Now that was uncalled for." Assad's calm voice turns my raging anger into a roaring flame. Before Vaunea can grab me, I'm across the shop floor and pin him to the wall. I see a flicker of anger cross his face, and he tries to break my grip. He looks shocked as my arm doesn't even move while he struggles.

"So are you saying it was called for when you threw a fucking hammer into my face!?" Vaunea is behind me, struggling to get me to release my grip. I can hear her straining, but I fight back harder against her to keep Assad pinned to the wall. His feet are hanging calmly below him, making me wonder for a brief moment why he isn't trying to kick me.

"No, the hammer hitting you was uncalled for. Just a stroke of bad luck when an apprentice dodged as I threw it at him." Once again, his voice is calm and it's pissing me off more.

"Sir, if you continue this, I will have to call the watch. They will be here in less than ten minutes if I do. We pay them quite well for their services." The clerk is standing beside me as he speaks. He shrinks back when I turn my glare to him instead of his father. Assad calmly raises one hand to his son.

"It's alright, Omar. There is no reason to do that. This nice man and I are about to step into the back and have a calm rational conversation. Aren't we?" He turns his head to face me, and I finally let his feet touch the ground.

"I don't know about calm. I'm still pretty fucking pissed right now." Assad calmly brushes his tunic as I let go of him. He looks at the shattered doors into the forge before looking back at me.

"Oh, it's going to be calm because I don't know if I would survive an angry conversation." He walks toward the forge, motioning me with his hand as he does. "Come along now. I'm sure we can come up with a peaceful resolution." As I start to step into the forge area, Omar starts to speak.

"No slaves back in the forge!" A glare from me causes him to disappear behind the counter again. I motion Vaunea to follow me as I step over the remains of the doors.

The inside of the forge is hot, feeling like I just stepped into a sauna. The area is crowded with tables and anvils. Hammers and tools are scattered on every work surface. It seems like every free inch of space is covered with some project, in a varying state of completeness. Assad is just starting to sit in a wide chair near the one clear table as I step inside.

He motions for me to sit as I pick my way through the crowded space. Eight other workers are standing around watching me, some with hammers still raised. Vaunea steps into the room which makes Assad raise one eyebrow, but makes no comment. I take the chair across from him, and I feel Vaunea take a position behind me. A quick glance tells me she has placed her back at mine and is scanning the room.

"I am most apologetic about the hammer. I am assuming that you came to my shop for something in particular. So I hope I can make it up to you by completing your order as quickly as possible." He opens a drawer beneath the table and removes a stack of paper, along with what looks like a large pencil of some kind.

"Now what kind of weapon did you come in for today? I'm assuming it's a weapon as your armor still looks new and well made." His eyes run over my chest, pausing at the pistol fastened on it for a second.

"He primarily uses a sword. His last one was unable to handle the amount of mana he channels. So he needs one with an ability to handle large amounts of energy while maintaining its integrity." Assad's eyes flick to Vaunea, then he turns his attention back to me and raises one eyebrow.

"Does she often speak as to what you need or want?" I feel myself starting to get angry again, but I force myself to calm down.

"She has more experience buying weapons, so I trust her judgment. Also, she is not wrong. My last blade shattered after three or four strikes." Assad nods his head thoughtfully, then turns to yell at one of the others in the forge.

"Bring me a length of bar stock for a blade!" He turns back to me, smiling.

"Sorry, most of my workers only speak the language of our homeland. I was nearly telling him." I interrupt him before he can finish.

"To bring you a length of bar stock." His eyes widen in surprise, and I myself smile. I have to admit it feels good to finally shock him. Even when he was pinned to the wall he looked entirely too calm. Is it petty, yes, but it still feels like a win.

"You understand Fashen?" I realize he must have switched into his native young because I can see Vaunea looks slightly confused out of the corner of my eye.

"Enough to get by." His shocked look turns into a smile and he throws his head back in a loud laugh.

"Ah, it is good to meet another that can speak my tongue. Aside from the workers in my forge, no one else speaks it to me. While they are like family, it's hard to converse as friends when you are the boss. I have to say though, your accent is almost perfect. Did you spend a lot of time among the desert people?" I chuckle quietly, cursing myself for my need to knock him down a peg. How am I supposed to explain my ability without giving myself away?

"I'm afraid I've never been to your homeland myself." I'm scrambling now, trying to figure out a believable lie. "I try and study different languages when I can. You never know where the world will take you. I was lucky enough to run across a traveling merchant who had a member of his caravan who spoke Fashen. I learned all I could while we traveled together."

While I am speaking, one of the other workers in the forge drops a length of bar stock on the table. He seems shocked at the fact I am speaking in his language. He keeps his mouth shut, and goes back to his work station. Assad picks up the stock and offers it to me.

"This is our standard blade steel. It's a mixture of high carbon steel from Dolus, and our own Fashen steel. Please, channel as much mana as you can through it. I need a template as to what kind of material I will need to use for your weapon." I take the bar in my hand, shrugging slightly.

"You sure you are ok with me potentially ruining your stock?" He laughs, raising his hands in a non-worried gesture.

"Our stock is many times more resilient than most blades in this country. It's possible we will still be able to use our standard stock to fill your order. If not, then we can discuss materials and cost after." I shrug at his response, figuring what the hell.

I focus on the steel in my hand and start to pour my mana into it. For a split second, there is no response, then the steel starts to vibrate gently in my hand. My face splits into a grin as I continue to pour power into the stock. It starts to vibrate harder, the corners of the bar glowing gently. Assad's face shows he is confused, then it becomes a look of shock as I continue to pump power into the stock.

The whole bar is glowing a ghostly yellow in my hand, and I feel the slightest bit of heat from it. Still, I channel more mana into it. I've almost reached the level I was using against the stone troll. As I finally open up the floodgates of my mana, the bar glows a bright yellow. The heat is stinging my hand, and I know I won't be able to hold it much longer. I drop the stock onto the table where it clatters before cracking into two pieces.

"By the shattered blade of Zibane, what the fuck was that!?" Assad pokes the broken bar with the end of his pencil, making the wood smoke. He lifts his head to look at me slowly with his eyes wide.

"You were not exaggerating about needing a blade that can handle intense mana." The bar has stopped glowing now, and he prods it with his pencil again. When it doesn't smoke, he gently pokes it with his finger. It's apparently cooled down enough because he picks it up to examine it closely.

"It will have to be melted down for scrap now." He tosses the two pieces into a pile of steel in the corner. "The steel is shattered. There isn't a way to salvage short of that."

"So I'm guessing that means you are going to need special stock to make my blade?" Assad nods at my question, jotting down notes on the paper in front of him.

"Yes, now give me just a moment and I'll figure out what kind of alloy I'll need." He continues to write on the paper, mumbling to himself as he does.

"Why do you need an alloy? Wouldn't it be better to just use one material?" Assad holds up one finger, studying the paper in front of him. I can feel myself getting irritated at his casual dismissal of my question.

"Hey boss, you ok?" I catch myself looking around, half expecting Sarge to be in the room with me.

Yeah I'm fine, boy. I just caught a hammer to the face, and the guy who threw it is still annoying me. I force myself to take a breath, trying to calm myself down.

"You going to be much longer, boss?" My lips curl into a smile at Sarge's question. He has always been impatient. I'm glad to see that hasn't changed with his new intelligence.

Shouldn't be much longer, or at least I don't think so. Did we find a place to sleep tonight yet? There is a sound I can't quite place that echoes in my mind, and I realize Sarge is laughing.

"Yeah, we are staying at the Painted Princess. The room is under your fake name, Mister Silas." Again, I hear Sarge laughing in my head.

Well, that's good at least. What does the room look like, did you see? Also who's bunking with who? Cause I'm pretty sure Jacob doesn't want to see what Shiva is planning for tonight.

"Jacob and Vaunea are sharing a room. Thea said you wouldn't be ok with her in a pen." I feel myself starting to frown at Sarge's words. I forgot slaves had to be in their owner's rooms or kept in pens. At the same time, I'm happy that Thea is thinking ahead.

"Anyway, your room is nice and you will love it. Good size room, one window opening on the alleyway. With a bed big enough for you, Thea, Shiva, and even me to sleep on. I saw it when we dropped off some of our gear. We are on the way to sell the loot we got from the dungeon now. So we will meet you in the square as soon as we can."

Thanks, boy. Tell Thea not to worry. I can feel that she is. Let her know we will be on our way to the rendezvous point soon. Keep an eye on them. I'm getting nervous about being separated like this.

"Will do, boss. Try and stay out of trouble, and don't let the crowds get to you." Just as quick as Sarge's presence in my mind was there, it's gone. I give my head a small shake to clear away the weird feeling.

Good to know he can still hear me a little ways away. That's got the potential to come in handy sooner or later.

"To answer your question, there isn't a single metal that will suit what you need. Orichalcum has a high enough resonance to mana that can handle your level. However, it can be almost brittle as there is no flex to it when shaped." Assad takes his pencil in both hands, flexing it slowly. "If you applied too much pressure to the flat of the blade, it would snap." The pencil breaks as he says the word snap, showering the table with broken bits.

"Mithril has its own issues, the biggest being cost. It doesn't have quite the resonance as orichalcum, but it's close. Over time, it would begin to warp from use. Slowly but surely."

"Yeah, that might be a problem." As annoyed as I am at the way he brushed me off, I'm being drawn into his explanation.

"Then there is adamantite, it would give you the rigidity you would need. However, it has a mid-grade resonance to mana, and it's heavy. Add in that if you ever managed to actually bend or warp the blade, it would be stuck like that. There would be no straightening a blade like that without melting it down and starting over."

"I'll have to take your word on that. Honestly, all I've ever used is steel. I just recently came into my mana. Before then, I had no idea I had a mana pool at all." Assad seems shocked, but he keeps his opinion to himself and continues to explain.

"Anyway, that's why you need an alloy and not just a single material. I have to warn you, though. You would be better off going to a different shop. Making an alloy won't be cheap for me, so the cost will reflect in the blade."

"Who would make a better blade, you or a different shop?" My seat creaks as I lean back, studying Assad's face. I'm curious about his answer, and see if he would try to lie or not. From what I have seen, he doesn't have much of a poker face. I'm pretty sure I would be able to spot him lying.

"I would say my blade would be superior, but not by a great margin. The other shops in the city can get the materials cheaper, so the blade would cost less to you." He briefly motions to my face. "If it wasn't for the accident with the hammer, I wouldn't tell you any of this. I am in your debt because of the accident. I can point you towards a reasonable weaponsmith. I will even provide you with what ratio of metals would be the best for you."

His eyes are staring straight into mine, studying my face. It's difficult to keep my surprise from showing as he watches me. I wasn't expecting him to be willing to recommend another weaponsmith. I honestly thought he would try and undermine any other smith to make him look better. I clear my throat as I lean forward in my seat.

"I'm not really worried about the cost. My father always told me, you pay for quality work. So paying a little more for a better weapon, I don't mind." Assad's face scrunched up in confusion. He starts to open his mouth, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

"What I'm interested in is when can it be ready?"

"That all depends on what you want in a blade. We talked alloys, but not the kind of blade you are looking for." His eyes seem to twinkle for a moment, and I start to laugh.

"Fair enough. Yeah, I kind of did get sidetracked. I prefer a hand and a half sword, somewhere in the three and a half to four foot length on the blade. I prefer a wide blade with an upswept crossguard and a flat, not a rounded hilt." Assad takes careful notes at my words, nodding along thoughtfully.

"Materials and manpower, coke and pyromancy….guild crucible rates, bare minimum six hours there." Assad winces, raising his head to look at me from his paper. "Keep in mind now, this is already at a discount because of the hammer." He slides the paper towards me slowly. I actually take it and turn it around before I remember.

I can't read this. Fuck, I'm an idiot. After glancing at it for a second, I pass it over my shoulder to Vaunea. At Assad's confused look, I start to explain.

"I, uh…. I can't read." I feel myself start to flush in embarrassment. Behind me, I hear Vaunea make a choking sound. As I turn to look, she is gawking at the paper in her hands.

"FIVE PLATINUM!" I let out a low whistle as I do the rough math in my head. I have been figuring one copper equals about five bucks give or take. Ten copper to one silver, twenty silver to one gold, and fifty gold to one platinum. Roughly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in my world. I feel myself lurch at the amount. My mind and body want to curl up and die a little.

"I did warn you my shop would be more expensive. I don't have enough contacts in the city that will sell me ores. The few I have gouge the prices to an unreasonable level. Our crucible here doesn't get hot enough to make the alloy, so I have to use the guild's. They charge me a premium because I'm not from Dolus, and it all adds up. I'm sorry and I understand if you wish to take your business elsewhere. If you do, the mixture is written there as well."

"Jim, Jim, what is the mix he needs? I've absorbed all three of those metals in the last few years." I try and keep the surprise off my face at Alexis's words. Instead, I clear my throat and try to speak calmly.

"What is the mix on the alloy that you would need? If that's the reason behind the price, I may be able to help." Assad looks doubtful, but he begins to speak anyway.

"I worked out that it would require twenty percent adamantite, thirty orichalcum, and fifty percent mithril. The adamantite is the only one that needs to be exact. The other two can vary as much as ten percent."

"Jim, feed me as much mana as you can slowly, and have Vaunea kneel down beside you. I'm going to expand my influence just a little bit, and put a chest of materials in her pack. The chest will be stable so it will survive outside my dungeon. Use the ores inside to trade. I think it will be more valuable to him than money." I nod slightly and stand up.

"Vaunea can you kneel down for a second? I need to get into your pack." She frowns for a second as I pump more power into Alexis's core. I feel the tingling on my skin increasing, and Vaunea shivers as it covers her as well. As I open her pack, I feel it shift from an increase in weight. There on top is a chest about three foot cubes.

I let loose a grunt as I lift it out of her pack. As I set it on the table, there is a loud thump that briefly draws the attention of the other workers. Assad raises an eyebrow, but remains silent as I open the lid. Inside, there are stacks of metal. Each one is formed in a bar about two inches wide and thick, and eight inches long.

"There are twenty four layers, the top layer is the one for your blade. The rest are mithril, orichalcum with the bottom two being adamantite." I let myself nod once to let Alexis know I understand, then lift one of the top bars. I'm shocked at the weight of the small bar in my hands I offer it to Assad.

"Is this close enough to the alloy you need?" Assad takes the metal, mumbling under his breath. He opens a drawer and takes out a variety of strange looking tools. He starts to prod and strike the metal as his hands start to shake.

He looks like he is about to cum in his pants. Wait, why is he lifting it to his face? Tell me he's not going to… yep he's licking it.

"Where did you get this!?" Assad's hands are shaking wildly as he waves the metal stock in his hand. I figure the best answer is close to the truth, so I try and keep my story close to it.

"I was in a dungeon recently, and a group of men working for the king posed as adventurers. They were there to capture the core, not something I agree with. So I made sure they didn't leave the dungeon alive. That's actually where I broke my last sword. After the group was dead, the dungeon gave me several drops as I'm assuming a thank you. It's where I got my armor, and more than a little bit of gold, as well as this chest of metal stock."

Assad's eyes are wide as I tell my story, and his hands are shaking even harder. He licks his lips slowly, his eyes going over my armor.

"I would love to have a closer look at your armor. If it's dungeon made, then odds are no one else has made anything like it. It could be viable for a new style of armor that could be worth a fortune." Not liking the look in his eye, I cut him off quickly.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, but I would be willing to trade material for work." Assad's eyes move down to the chest on the table. I can see him sunning over the calculations in his head, how much it would hold and its value.

"Is, is the whole chest full of these?" He raises the bar in his hand slowly.

"I'm afraid not." His face falls slightly, so I quickly continue. "Just the top layer is this alloy, the rest are a mix of layers of mithril and orichalcum. I believe the bottom two are adamantite. I haven't been to a forge yet to be certain, but that's what they appear to be anyway."

Assad is still for a moment, even his hands have stopped shaking. Then in almost slow motion, his head falls onto the table with a loud thump. I'm about to move to check on him when he stands up. His hands grab the shoulders of my jacket.

"What are your plans for that metal?" His voice is low with an almost desperate tone to it.

"Right now, I'm thinking about trading it, maybe just selling it off." I give a small shrug as I push his hands away from my shoulders gently.

"May I, may I examine the stock that you have?" I don't see a reason not to let him, especially if I'm planning on trading with him. So I slowly turn the chest to face him. He is quiet for so long that I start to worry. Finally with shaky hands, he starts to reach into the chest. Before he touches any of the metal, he looks up at me, almost like he is asking to touch it. I give him a small nod and he begins stacking the bars on the table.

He starts stacking the metal in neat stacks of five. He separates each pile by the type of metal. When he is done, he leans back in his chair. He studies the piles in front of him closely, and I can see his chest heaving heavily.

"This is more than I would be able to buy in a year." His voice is so low it's almost a whisper, and I struggle to hear him. I glance around the room and notice all the other workers are still. They are all staring at the pile of metal on the table. Their eyes are wide, and their looks remind me of a hungry dog staring at a plate of chicken on a table.

"So I'm guessing that you would be willing to trade these bars for the work I want done?" Assad's eyes never leave the stack of metal as he nods.

"Yes, but one sword won't equal the amount you have. This is more than I could accept for this job." He shifts ten of the bars into a separate stack. "This would be fair compensation for the blade you requested. I'd be happy to buy the others from you, but I doubt I could afford them all."

"What if I had more work for you, and I needed it done quickly?" Assad's eyes shift up to look at me, and I can see him thinking.

"How quickly are you wanting it done?" I lean back in my chair, acting like I'm thinking hard. My right hand comes up and scratches at my beard.

"How quickly can my order be finished?" Assad thinks for a moment, his eyes flicking between the forge and the piles of metal.

"If I start now, it would be ready to be picked up tomorrow morning sometime." He moves another bar onto the pile, then pauses and adds a second. "That would be for cost for the rush on the order."

I examine the pile, it's still heavily weighted in my favor. After a second, I motion for the stack of paper. Assad pushes it to me and hands me an unbroken pencil. I quickly sketch out a design for four blades, digging into my memory of the ones I left in my world. After I finish, I move half the remaining metal onto Assad's stack. Turning the paper to face him, I start to explain.

"I lost most of my weapons in the dungeon. I was originally just going to replace my sword, but if you take these on as well." I give a small shrug. "Then I have no issues with trading more." Assad studies the designs on the paper, motioning for the pencil.

"What are the size requirements on these blades?" I start to explain as he takes careful notes.

"The Bowie knife, I want the blade to be no shorter than sixteen inches. The Arkansas toothpicks, I want two of them, they should have nine inch blades. This one," I point down to the drawing of the push knife. "I want six of them, including two made for a women's hand and one for Vaunea's. The blade should be four or five inches long and about that wide, maybe a little narrower." Assad studies the drawings carefully.

"I don't know these names you said, Bowie, and Arkansas toothpick. Which ones are which?" I let out a small chuckle as I realize that I should have thought about how the names wouldn't be the same. I quickly explain which blades are which as Assad takes careful notes.

"I'm assuming the dagger for Vaunea would need to be bigger. That being said, several of my people are skilled enough to complete these. It will put us behind on a few orders, but I'm willing to take on the work." He glances over at my shrinking pile, then moves two more bars over.

"I'm good with that, as long as they are all ready at the same time. Do your people make this sheaths for them, or will I need to find someone else for that?"

"We handle all aspects of our weapons in house. I can have everything finished by third bell tomorrow." I give him a small nod, then move to remove my pistols holster from my chest. His eyes follow my movements carefully, taking in the pistol in my hands. Turning the holster over, I show him the connections that attach it to my armor.

"Can you replicate these, for at least two of the push daggers and the other blades too?" He reaches for the holster, then pauses. I pull my Beretta from the holster and tuck it into my waistband, then hand it to him. He turns it over in his hands several times, muttering to himself.

"Hasseim, run tell Talora I need to speak to her now!" One of the workers drops his tools and sprints from the room. Assad turns to me, setting the holster down gently on the table.

"I don't want to promise what I can't provide. My leather worker will be here momentarily. If you don't mind waiting so she can examine this."

"I don't mind, assuming it won't be too long that is." I've barely finished speaking when Hasseim returns and begins to work at his station again.

"You expect me to just drop everything, everytime you need anything! And what the hell did you do to your doors!?" At the sound of the woman yelling from the entrance to the forge, Assad begins to laugh. I start to stand, turning to face the door as he tries to calm me.

"Don't worry, she is always angry. It's just her way, but she is one of the best leather workers in the city. Talora, I have a project for you, if you can handle it that is." His eyes are glinting playfully as the woman stalks her way to the table.

She is shorter than Assad, but has the same olive skin and dark hair. A pair of piercing green eyes glare at him as she reaches the table. She is wearing a simple green skirt that reaches her ankles. With a long sleeved matching blouse covering her upper body. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, with a brown linen bandana covering the top of her head. Around her waist is a wide work belt, several tools I recognize as leather working awes sticking out of the pouches.

"You do know I have my own work to do, don't you?" She huffs as she turns to face me. "And who the hell are you?" For a moment I'm stunned, unsure how to answer her.

"Talora, I know you have work to do, this is about a rush order. You are my best, so it is so surprising that I would have you do it." Assad turns to face me, motioning to Talora. "This is my daughter, Talora. Talora this is," he pauses looking at me. "I don't believe you ever introduced yourself?" I feel myself start to flush slightly, realizing I have not minded the manners my mother tried to instil in me.

"Sorry, my name is Silas, Silas Strongarm." I reach out my hand, offering it to Assad. He shakes it firmly, then I offer my hand to his daughter as well.

"Well at least you have some manners. Standing when a woman enters the room." I chuckle slightly as she releases my hand.

"That had more to do with not knowing if you were a threat or not. Though I would have stood if you had entered a little more calmly anyway. My mother did her best to teach me to be well mannered." Talora nods to me, then turns to face her father.

"Now what is so important you had to pull me away from the orders I'm working on?" Assad smiles and turns back to the table. He picks up the holster, and hands it to his daughter.

"Can you replicate this method of attaching the sheath to his armor?" Talora turns the holster over in her hands slowly. Her fingers trace over the molle attachments.

"Maybe, what are these?" She traces over the snaps slowly.

"They snap together, then seal the loop they form." I hold out my hand and she hands me the sheath. She watches closely as I attach the holster back on my armor.

"I don't think I can make those things, not like those anyway. I should be able to make something similar. So it attaches to these loops on your armor?" She slips in close to me, making me stiffen as her hands start tracing over my armor. As her hands start to move around my chest under my jacket, I grab her hands. She was getting too close to my rifle for my comfort.

"You can examine the front, but I can't let you see the rest. Sorry." She waves her hand at me as if she doesn't care.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked before I started groping you." She smiles at me, then goes back to examining the loops on my armor. Assad looks shocked at her words, or maybe her smile.

"Enough, can you make something that will attach to his armor or not?" Talora jumps slightly, then seems to realize how close she is to me and takes a half step away.

"I think I can. How long do I have to finish them?" She turns to her father, seeing him quickly drop his gaze. "Father, how long do I have?"

"He is paying for a rush order, you have till tomorrow morning." Talora is silent, and Assad starts to back aways from his daughter slowly.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?" For a second, it looks like Assad is about to run. Instead, he straightens his shoulders and stares his daughter down.

"He wants his weapons tomorrow. He is paying a premium for the rush." Talora throws her hands into the air, letting out a loud groan as she does.

"Of course he is paying you a premium, but what about me? Is any of the money going to make its way down to me? Don't bother saying anything, I already know the answer." Before I can stop it, I feel laughter escaping my throat. Talora turns to face me, her features a mask of anger and annoyance.

"And what exactly do you find so funny!?" Raising my hand in a mock surrender, I try and calm her down.

"Easy, I'm on your side. If you are completing a rush order, then you should be getting paid for it." I slide two of the bars of metal slowly diminishing stack and offer them to her. "I know you seem to work with leather more than anything else, but I'm sure your dad would be willing to buy these off you. You think this is enough to cover your rushing to complete my order?"

"Are you serious?" Talora stares into my eyes as if she is studying me. I shrug casually and continue to offer her the two bars in my hand. After a long moment, she takes them and weighs the metal in her hands. She tucks the metal into her tool belt, then starts to smile.

"Well then, I guess I need to hurry and start your order, don't I? Any special request as far as color or designs?" I shake my head slowly as I move the Beretta from my waistband back into its holster.

"No, I'm all about function over form. The only thing I would say is put the toothpicks in the same sheath. One going in from one side, one from the other." When she looks at me confused, I try to explain better. "A horizontal sheath that will sit on the small of my back. It will let both of them be close at hand, but out of the way."

"I can do that." Talora nods and starts to walk away. "I'll be ready for the blades by dark father, so I'd suggest you have them done then." Assad makes almost a choking sound at his daughter's words.

"Did you have a material in mind for your knives? Since I don't have a lot of time to get them processed, I'd like to get my people working on them quickly." I shrug at Assad's question, motioning to the pile of metal still on the table.

"I figured you would use whatever you thought was best out of that pile." Assad nods, rubbing his chin as he looks down at the pile.

"I have enough workers skilled at working with mithril. It shouldn't be a problem." He moves three of the pale blue metal bars off to the side. After a moment, he moves another down beside the three.

"That's the material we would need to complete the knives. Well, minus half of one bar, but I don't have a way to break it without the forge." He looks up at me as he takes a seat, almost like he is asking if that's ok.

"That's fine, feel free to keep the half a bar you don't use." Assad smiles, calling over to his workers who are starting to gather around. He gives several of them orders, then turns back to me as they move off.

"This has turned into a rather profitable day for me. The Gods must have put us on a path to meet." When I don't respond, he shrugs. "Either way, your weapons will be available for pickup after the third bell tomorrow."

"How much to have them delivered instead?" Assad seems surprised at my question, eyeing the remainder of the stack of metal.

"I'm afraid it would not be honorable for me to take any more of your metal. You have already been more generous than anyone would expect. Where do you want it delivered to? I'll send someone along with your order as soon as it's completed." I can't help but notice the hungry look in his eyes as he stares at the remaining stack of metal.

"I'm staying at an inn called the Painted Princess, the room is under my name." I motion to the stack of metal still left on the table. "Don't suppose you would be interested in taking the rest of the stack off my hands would you? It would save me loading it back up, and from the way you talked you need it more than I do." He looks thoughtful at my offer, finally he shakes his head slowly.

"I wouldn't be able to afford to pay you the market price. It wouldn't be a fair trade to you."

"I'm not worried about fair market price, just send over what you can with the weapons tomorrow morning." Assad can't take his eyes off the metal in front of him. I start to turn to the door when I pause, facing him again.

"Oh, just one other thing." Assad looks up, giving me a look of curiosity.

"What other thing?" Before he can move, I slam my fist into his face. The shop falls silent as he falls onto the floor. Vaunea looks shocked, but is keeping her mouth shut. I lean over, offering Assad a hand up.

"That's for the hammer to the face. We good?" Assad stares at my hand for a moment. He takes my hand and I pull him to his feet. Assad waves off one of his workers who comes to check on him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, get back to work you useless lot!" Turning to face me, he wipes the blood from his face, and checks his nose as he does. "I'm not going to say I didn't deserve that, but why did you wait so long to do it." I shrug, tucking my thumbs into my belt as I do.

"Got too excited talking about metal and blades. At the same time I owed you one, so I had to pay it back to you. Now we can move forward without either of us owing the other." Assad laughs, slapping my shoulder roughly.

"Don't make a habit of it, but yes now we are even. Now get out of here. I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to have your order filled by tomorrow."

As Vaunea and I exit the shop, I'm glad to see the crowd has somewhat thinned. The road in front of the shop is still crowded, but there are less people. I feel myself starting to get tense again, and force myself to calm down.

"Let's go find that square thing Shiva said to meet at. I'm starting to worry about them." Vaunea shrugs and starts to force her way through the crowd.

"Fallen Square is only a few minutes walk this way." Vaunea raises a hand, causing a carriage to stop as we cross the street.

"So why is it called Fallen Square?" Vaunea shrugs, moving down an alley way which I assume is a shortcut.

"There was an uprising fifteen years ago give or take. Fallen Square is where the last of the rebels fell. They were supposed to be reinforced from Rathenk, their support never came. So they named the square Fallen Square, for where the rebellion fell. Not original I know, but it's what they decided."

"Uprisings tend to fall, unless you can cut off support from the top." Vaunea seems to ponder my words as we continue to walk in silence.