Armory Blues

[Tobias Stalt]

Looking absolutely deflated, Tobias walked out from the armory with his shoulders sagging. How was it possible for an armory to be out of swords? He supposed it made some sense with the steady influx of recruits, but was it so difficult to requisition a steel sword for someone in dire need of armament? Especially a soldier?

They had given him ample funds to procure his own (the only money Tobias had earned properly in a long time,) and he had been sent out into the city. The first smithy he saw, Tobias strode into with confidence. "I'd like a steel sword," he said with a smile, "could you tell me how much that would be?"

[Lye]

Large, overfed, and clearly on a diet of mead and wine, the dwarven smith lumbered as he turned to face his new customer. His greeting began by prying an unknown fragment of debris from his twisted teeth with a yellowed fingernail. Successful, he smacked his lips and sounded a melody of bubbling and slurps with a run of his course tongue across mangled fangs.

"Steel?" his voice inquired in a low rumble akin to his size. "Mmm, I do believe that'n be 'bout ehh... 150 gold."

The rotund ball of meat, hair, and soot ran a stubby hand through the course bristles one would call a beard.

"I could also throw in an iron dagger, 'bout a four inch blade, that I finished jus' this mornin' fer about anoth'r... 50 should yeh be interested."

[Tobias Stalt]

Tobias considered the offer with slight interest; he was a lover of the dagger, but it was something he might truly get in trouble for carrying. The military had its reservations about concealed weaponry when not on the battlefield. It tended to make people a bit jumpy. Still, it was always intelligent to carry a spare, especially if he were disarmed. "I'll tell you what, friend," Tobias said in a calm, thoughtful voice, "Let me see the quality of your steel, then we can talk about trying to sell me on another weapon."

He was versed in the art of sales, and knew that a man who peddled his own craft was often in a hurry to profit from it. Especially if the craft was not something he was proud of. It was also entirely possible, with his uniform on and a professional demeanor, that he could work out some kind of mutually beneficial agreement with this dwarf.

"I suppose you do a lot of business with the quartermaster in town?" The question was less loaded than one might anticipate, but it might draw the salesman's attention to Tobias' dress, and if the answer went the way Tobias hoped it would, might get the Smith to see things from a different angle.

Of course, he did not want to draw any attention to the current lack of weapons in the armory; if he did, it could end up having the merchant spike the price on him as per supply and demand. "I'm just asking because there's always the possibility of a large work order for your shop, if you go through the right channels..."

He let the suggestion hang for a moment, rummaging through his belongings for his gold. Satisfied that he had the requisite hundred and fifty, he smiled up at the dwarf once more. "They sent me out to see which Smithy ought to do the next order of weapons, see. I've been a few places, and seen a few different swords. You might say I've an eye for good blades."

[Lye]

The inquiry of the quality of his steel was insulting. The dwarf's chiseled features writhed into an expression of anger and a twinge of disgust. He and his kin were proud creatures and questioning a dwarf's smithing would equate to insulting a man's lover.

"I do say, boy..." he started with a deep growl, "If'n it is fine steel y'want, y'have to look no further. Unless you'd like to travel to the Kachuk mines yourself that is."

His footsteps vibrated through the soil in testament to his hearty weight and build. He drew close the the spry younger man, and eyed him with black as coal irises.

"As much as the money would do me good, I 'ave no reason to sell to the military. Those green fingered children have no regard for a blacksmith's work. I'd get my blades back chipped, twisted, or mangled by some sod's attempt to be heroic. No thanks!"

He turned about in a fuss, storming to the store room which housed his completed works. The low rumble of his voice continued in mumbles and obscenities of a native tongue. He returned with an object in hand, wrapped in a pristine cotton. It found its way to the counter with a satisfying thug and his filthy fingers unraveled the polished surface of an ornate steel blade. Although simple in construction, the blade had a certain flow of lines that reflected traits of elven influence.

"A soldier of th' state would not be able to care fer blade like this. Especially one given to 'im standard issue." he spoke, lifting the corners of the cloth to spread them flat. "I keep all my wares wrapped in oil damp cotton. It keeps th' blades from moisture and prevents unwanted nicks. Each one is polished to a mirror sheen and an edge that would cleave a lesser man clean in two."

He looked at his own work fondly. Several seconds passed before righting his gaze to the client.

"If it is the quality of steel you are worried about, see for yourself." He folded his arms. "But I will not sell to young bloods of the state."

[Tobias Stalt]

Tobias had a care when the man's anger piqued, not to press any further with his initial tactic. Instead, he took a care to look the sword over and quirked a brow in consideration. "I'd no intention to offend you, sir," he said, and then his voice became conspiratorially low. "See, everyone knows the Dwarves are the best Smiths in the land. I tried to tell my officers that, but they wouldn't hear of it."

He resumed his almost statuesque posture, folding his arms behind his back; this truly was beautiful steel, and he could see in it a weapon that he would need to work to be truly worthy of wielding. His gaze depicted nothing of these thoughts, though, and he matched the Smith's gaze. "I think it's a fine prize, myself."

He would need to be careful with this man. A dwarf was much less easy to sway when it came to gold, and even worse when it involved blacksmithing. He knew that now. "They told me to go to the shop down the way-" he pointed, "said the Elf there had magic fingers. He offered me a price about ten gold lower, but you can't skimp on quality."

Counting out the gold for the man, Tobias laid it out plainly on the counter. That would allow the man to see he was good for the coin. "I'll tell you what. I'll buy this sword from you at the price you've asked, and when I come upon someone with a need, I'll send them your way. Help you get some business through the shop, see. That is, if you'll run me a discount on the dagger so I have more than one article to bear testament to your skills."

He glanced down at the blade again, speaking with complete honesty, "I promise to care for the blade as I would my own life."

[Lye]

He narrowed his beady eyes towards the lad.

"Elf?"

The word soured his stomach. Nothing was more foul and wretched than elves.

"Tell y'what." He vanished back into his store room to fetch the dagger he mentioned earlier. When he produced it, he took similar care in unraveling it from cloth. The blade was less flashy than the sword, mostly due to it being iron versus steel - a straight blade with a reinforced rib down the length. The hilt was wrapped and tempered with a copper braid. The pommel was stamped in the dwarf's family crest to mark his work, and the guard was short, but bronzed to give it more aesthetic appeal.

"I'll let her go for ten gold, but on one stipulation."

The dwarf pressed a finger firmly into the charred and oiled grain of the wooden counter.

"You tell yer boot lickin' officers that the elf's work is shyte. No man skinny as a mother's switch can forge a true blade."

He raised his hand and flexed his digits in a silly show for someone so serious.

"Magic fingers or not."

He forfeited the display and leaned against the table. The wood protested with a groan.

"Do we have a deal?"

[Tobias Stalt]

Tobias nodded slowly, taking in the words of the Smith as he reached into his kit bag for the ten gold. Sifting his fingers through it for several moments, he placed it onto the table and placed either hand on the counter. "We have a deal."

Studying the man's face and hands, Tobias looked back down to the weapon and smiled. "Magic has nothing on skill, my friend. Your work is art." He happily pushed the gold, all one hundred and sixty pieces, across to the dwarf, and carefully wrapped both the dagger and the sword in their oil cloth, drawing them close to his chest as he would a lover.

"The message will be delivered, friend. And I will most certainly be back myself." He took a step back, bowing deeply, then turned to leave. His venture had been extremely profitable, and he knew the dwarf was likely to be just as pleased. Business had been good today for both of them.

As he exited the shop, Tobias stowed the cloth-wrapped dagger into his shirt. It wouldn't do for them to see that piece of his day's take. He headed back to the barracks, now equipped for the days to come.

[Lye]

Transaction Complete!

160 Gold Deducted from Tobias Stalt