After a short while he settled into flipping between some half-dozen entries, then frowned and looked up.

“I- Hm… Do you mind providing specifics? If you can tell me exactly what you want I’ll have an easier time finding it.”

Despite his politeness, the spark of mischief inside Zel made her mimic his mildly snooty way of talking, albeit with no malicious intent - merely for her own amusement.

“I use a heavily recoiling firearm and, as you can see, I have need of a replacement recoil mitigation device. Considering this one’s failure, I’ve elected to seek out one of a heavier-duty make,” she dragged out a simple statement, raising her arm to show the tatters of her destroyed arm-harness, its remains still hanging on for dear life.

“I see, I see… I take it that a mechanized solution with a limited power source wouldn’t be acceptable?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” Zel shook her head.

“Only the most rugged of the rugged, understood…“ he continued, his attention still fixed on his binders. Finally he settled on one page.

G-KAISER HEAVY IRONWORKS

Turning the binder around so they could see, the clerk explained, “As a company they’re relative newcomers, but nearly every man amongst their ranks is a veteran. It’s just… They can be difficult to work with when it comes to subtler projects. I doubt you will encounter such issues, though. If you need something outwardly rugged and brutish, no matter how complex it is on the inside, the G-Kaisers will get it done. If you can afford them.”

The logo depicted a metal arm holding a smith’s hammer, with the word “G-KAISER” in thick, rivet-lined letters. After receiving a series of brief and easy to understand directions, they were on their way towards the vaunted smith’s company. To say it was easy to find them would’ve been an understatement - they didn’t just have a tent, they had a huge six-legged metal monstrosity of a vehicle sitting with its massive spider-like legs curled up and suspicious bluish smoke rising from one of its chimneys, the sign affixed to the back just above the ramp door.

It was situated near the fields where the many armored vehicles were displayed, and a little ways from it they saw an Iron Brotherhood hiring post. They knew it was so, because of the great big sign advertising it as such, as well as the pair of downright edgy walking tanks standing guard. These two were First-models, their gigantic bulk covered in gashes and welded-on replacement armor, their engine backpacks growling and billowing smoke even as they sat idle.

Zel wasn’t sure why she knew that they were First-models, only that she knew, and that they looked downright edgy. For some reason these squat machines had loincloths of leather belts, spiked shoulder and knee pads, and cylinders with dozens of flails on chains attached under their left forearms. She presumed that they would extend out forward before beginning to spin - she hoped it was the case.

As they neared the G-Kaiser Ironworks, the sounds from within it began to overpower the ambient noise. Even passing by the two idly-standing tankmen, the growl of their engines didn’t drown out the rhythmic exclamations of burly men and the clanging of hammer against anvil.

“HEAVE! HO! HEAVE! HO! HEAVE! HO!”

Out in front of the wide-open door, a soot-covered youth in a scorch mark-covered, metal-plated leather apron sat. His youthful face was contrasted by a truly massive build, only exemplified by the semi-transparent pallid skin of a norseman. Meanwhile, right within eyeshot, a trio of massive, goggle-wearing men pounded away at a plate of metal with glowing hammers in perfect rhythm, each exhaling jets of Fog, each grunting like a wild beast. The plate shone bright blue rather than red or orange, and spat sparks of similar colour. Each strike of their hammers left a disproportionately cooled-down spot on the metal, forming the shape of a glyph… A different one every time, somehow.

“Y’got a reference?!” belted the young man with prodigal volume, yet perfectly jovial tone.

“Broker tent directed us here!” Zel belted right back.

A furrow of the brow. The young man got up and walked inside, hollering at the others in Kargarian.

A short explanation later...

“No wonder he sent you to us! ‘Course we can do that, y’got the gun here?” asked the largest of the three men, a towering, white-haired mountain covered in scars of all sorts head to toe.

He wore his apron with its top half hanging down, his chest bearing a great patch of charred-black skin where one would expect hair. The other two were no less larger-than-life - the shortest of the three was a total contrast to the first as he had long brown hair and not a single scar on him, whilst the middleman was distinguished at first sight by the presence of several massive gash scars - one across his face - as well as an eyepatch over his left eye and the absence of a mustache.

Then again, one could also distinguish them by ethnicity - the tallest was Kargarian, the second tallest was Grekurian, whilst the shortest was, of all things, a monk-noble, going by his eyes. He didn’t mention it, but the way he glanced at Zelsys betrayed his curiosity in her eyes - it was obvious he knew that it was all but impossible for her to have them without arcane intervention of some sort.

Despite that, though, the G-Kaisers were downright professional, if extremely macho. She couldn’t blame them - the aura of deep-rooted camaraderie was almost as intense as the seething heat of the forge, which seethed to an almost unbearable degree even though its maw sat closed shut.

Zelsys only had to regale them with a few fragmentary tales of her exploits before they all but jumped on the opportunity to produce a replacement arm-harness, the tallest among them proclaiming it to be, “As manly a work as one could wish for!”

He then went quiet, and somewhat cautiously asked, “...Do you have the materials for it? Raw materials, enchanting supplies - we can procure such things, but it will be costly.”