Elementary, my dear Watson

[Christina Bredith]

It seemed ages since Christina had been shopping, and now that she perused the marketplaces of Corone, she felt quite literally like a kid in a candy store. There were adorable little boutiques here, flower shops there, clothing shops in between, and the occasional vendor with the most charming pair of boots you ever did see. Of course, absence may have made her heart grow all the fonder, but she was enchanted nevertheless.

Alas, candy and flowers and boots were not her goal today. Her needs were a little more tangible and direct. The last time she had come shopping in this bazaar, she was an entirely different person with entirely different needs. Who had thought then that she would ever be searching for someone to re-temper weapon or buy a new suit of armour? At any rate, the needs may have been different but Christina knew the basic formula would be the same.

It had gotten her many deals in the past. Now she could do it almost without trying, which interestingly enough was a bonus. The first step was a simple one: find a blacksmith, male, not married – or at least with no wife present. It took Christina a little doing, but in a world where adventurers, heroes, and warriors flowed through a country like water through a river, there was no shortage of blacksmiths in Corone. Step two was even simpler: switch on the charm.

As if it was ever off in the first place.

“Hi there!” she called out cheerily as she entered the man’s shop. The golden locks of her hair bounced as she sashayed into the room, and to some extent so did… certain other eye-catching extremities. When she reached the counter, she leaned on it with her elbows and rested her chin on the top of her hands, fingers laced, looking at him with a pouted lip. “Think you can help out a girl in distress?”

After allowing a moment of “consideration,” Christina began. “I need a price check on a couple of things, hun.” First, she removed Rosebite from its sheath, and placed it on the desk. “How much to re-temper this sword into… oh… damascus? Don’t worry about the rune-gems, I can take care of those. I mainly just need to keep them and the handle. They’re… special.” She punctuated the comment with a sweet smile of sentimentality, the kind one might find difficult to deny.

“But that’s not all, you lucky man.” With a wink, Christina leaned forward, and began to undo the top of her red army uniform with gold pattern. But get thee those dirty thoughts out of your head, mister blacksmith! Though he may now have had a bit more of a revealing look at his customer – although nothing was given away, of course – Christina was only doing this to show him the chain mail that was underneath the uniform, pressed against its inner layer. It could be removed easily enough, and a new one could be put in its place with relatively little trouble. Hell, Christina could do that herself as long as she had the chain mail to attach. “How much for a chain mail of…” She paused and considered, tracing a finger absently in patterns on the mahogany counter. “Delyn?”

[Artifex Felicis]

A blacksmith was a great place to work in Corone, especially with the Citadel not a day's ride away and with the wars begining to come up. Will's own blacksmith was slowly begining to lose whatever business it had, at least until he agreed to join up with some of the merchants. It made life easier, since instead of dealing entirely with customer's special requests on a daily basis. He still did, but shipping off twenty or thirty steel swords a day was a bit easier on the mind than making a two ton sword all the time. At the very least it allowed him more time with his partner. He grinned lewedly for a moment, picking up a large hammer he had been forging and placing into the water trough to cool.

His first specialty customer in days walked in as the steam hissed up, and he took the moment to wipe some of the sweat and grease from his face before approuching her. He did great work, but he had lost a couple customers because of his unkempt apperacne. He probably would have lost quite a bit more if they knew more so of how the process was made. He was a well built, and reletivly handsome man, but he would have looked more at place as a common farmer than a blacksmith.

He continued rubbing his hands as she approuched his "counter." It was merely a slab of wood place on two of his old anvils, worn down from use. He listened to the girl, dropping his rag into one of the pockets of the apron he wore. He looked at the steel sword that was place onto his counter, admiring the beuty of the worn blade. It was fine craftsminship, though he belived he might be able to exceed it. He smilied to himself at the blade, pausing just long enough to see the girl's chainmail before admiring the blade some more.

"Well, I love the sword," Will began. He turned to the side, digging through a couple of sheets of paper before finding the one he wanted. He squinted for a moment, reading the familiar letters on the page. "450 gold pieces to make that sword of yours up to damascas. Good metal choice too, it's my favorite to work with." He read further down, this time for the chainmail. "Course, the chainmail's cheaper. I'm not as good with it, but still better than the average guy. That will be around 575 gold. Course, I'll have to put it on you and adjust so you don't carry an extra twenty pounds around."

[Christina Bredith]

To Christina’s eyes, there was a lot to be said for a rugged man. Though you might not have known it to look at her then, the young miss Bredith hailed from a life of high society, debutant balls, and glistening red punch served in crystal bowls. After twenty-odd years of that, the prim, proper gentlemen that come “calling” tend to get as repetitive as their unchanging hairstyles. What bright young noblewoman doesn’t fantasize about a wild, romantic adventure with a rugged farmer or soldier without two gold coins to rub together?

But those were dangerous thoughts Christina found herself leaning towards – thoughts of the past, reminders of the rugged young soldier she fell in love with, and who was taken from her so cruelly. It was a past she wished to leave behind, and that was why Christina’s heart was far more intricately locked than her exterior might have let on. Just getting to watch the show doesn’t afford you a backstage pass.

At any rate, her formula seemed to be working. It was unfortunate that Christina was, however, at a disadvantage: having had so little experience with arms-shopping, she was ill equipped to compare prices and find out the real market value of the items she was purchasing. But a buxom young blonde lacking experience in those circles must draw upon talents gained and practiced elsewhere. True, she may not have known whether her rugged artisan was pulling the wool over her eyes, but she did know that he was responding well enough to her signals. Perhaps not as warmly as she anticipated, but that in itself showed a certain character, a certain devotion to one’s art that she would pay good money for anyway.

Besides, Christina could hardly feel at rights taking anything else from the blacksmith. From the looks of things, the only coins he had to rub together were the plates of a scale mail – the sufferings of any true artist. She could afford his price, anyway, and there was nothing else pressing on her wallet so there was no need to haggle and risk souring the deal entirely. In this case it seemed a higher risk than in most others. So, as far as haggling was concerned, she would let her “natural” charms take charge, and if they captured some mercy then she would take it, and if not, she was still getting what she came for.

With a brilliant smile, Christina turned to the side and half-sat on the little desk. By now, through some little unexplained trickery of her own, she had commanded all ten of Rosebite’s rune-gems to vacate their nest, and they slid into a large (and now heavy) satchel that hung at her waist.

She patted Will’s hand. “You are a saint,” she teased, and straightened out her body. This had the (unintentional?) side effect of firming out certain things that might not catch the eye at once, but was necessary for her proposal: “Shall we start with the measurements then? I am your mannequin, master smith.”

[Artifex Felicis]

Will smilied, goiong back into his smithy for a moment, leaving the girl's beuitful longsword on his counter. His hands fished around inside the cleaning trough, coming out with a smallish dagger that suprizingly sold well. He wiped and dried the blade, pausing only to grab his measuring tape as he did so. Most of the time he based sword length on his own arm, which was a little over two and a half feet, with shoulder to elbow almost exactly a foot. However, wrapping his arm around the girl's chest, pleasing as it might be for some, wouldn't give an accurate measurment.

He nailed the price paper to his wall, making a deep thunk in the wood witht he dagger as a nail. It was one of the papers he had to deal with more often, and it always was one of those things that he had meant to do. He took the measuring tape as he did so, taking the pretty woman by her han to help her rise so he could measure her. There were only three measurments he needed to take for the mail.

"You're lucky," Will explained, taking a piece of carcoal and a small block of wood. It was more cost effective for the blacksmith to not use paper. The only paper he did use was often given to him by merchants. Of course, his handwriting was still small, brillent and concise. When you only got paper ever week or so, you learned to conserve it rather well. "I only have Deyln, steel and iron chainmail shirts made already. You'd have to go to someone else ifI didn't." He brought the measuring tape around the girl's shoulders, then marked off on the block of wood. He took the other two measurments as quickly as he could, the first around the girl's breasts and the other around her stomach. It felt awkward doing that, but a job was a job. Of course, his tape slipped twice while getting the middle management, forcing him to actualy place the tape onto the outermost part. Needless to say he thought a coal from the balcksmith had jumped onto his face right there.

"You, um, need anything else? Reall I just need some time now to fix your chainmail to your figure and make your sword," Will said aloud, a slight blush coming to his face. "It'll take a while though, and I could make you a seat or two if you wanted to stay."

[Christina Bredith]

Naturally, Christina offered up no complaint when the blacksmith took her by the hand and helped her up to begin the measurements. She hopped off the little desk and straightened out her body like an obedient and accommodating doll, ready to be poked and prodded as was necessary. It would have been oh-so easy to take advantage of her, a lesser blacksmith might think; but not so with Christina. She was very used to being fitted for clothes, and having old seamstresses stab her with their ancient fingers and (accidentally) their needles. How different was the fitting for a chain mail from that of a corset?

Christina laughed politely, sweetly, at the smith’s comment about her being lucky that he had Delyn chain mail in stock. “My my, Damascus is your favourite metal and you already have my chain in stock?” She lifted her arms enough to let him wrap the measuring band around her. “I’d say there’s a touch of destiny in the air, master smith.”

Aside from such friendly banter, Christina was a polite and quiet mannequin; she could not, however, resist the urge to make little giggles of supposed half-embarrassment when the smith’s tape slipped and he was forced to readjust himself in ways that might bring shame to a man of noble intentions. There was no harm in playing the part of the coy young warrior, after all, and it was obvious enough that the man wasn’t trying to cop a feel – which the woman had to give him due credit for, as she had expected much less from a man. (All her seamstresses in the past had been women, so she had little idea what to expect on this angle.)

“Anything else…?” Christina tilted her head. Her polished index finger rested atop her lower lip, and she gently bit its other corner, looking to be deep in thought. Then she considered. “I can’t think of anything. Most of what I have is going to purchase these, but they’re all I really need anyway.” She finished on a bright smile, and hopped back onto the desk when Will was finished. “I wouldn’t dream of imposing any further! This will do quite nicely, unless you object?” Christina smiled coyly, almost inviting him to speak his mind. But she would be quite comfortable here, nevertheless, to watch him work his magic in the back room.

[Artifex Felicis]

"I just love the metals, though my partner deals with the chainmail, Will moved around his table, setting the measurements aside. They weren't much, but they would be simple to follow if someone knew what they were doing. Will knew only enough for the measurements, as his partner also delivered much of the goods to their customers. Now that he thought about it, Will's partner should be coming back soon enough. At least in a few hours. "Sides, Damascas makes the best swords in my opinion. And it's fun to work with."

He smilied, putting on his gloves and turning into his work. He picked up his hammer, twirling it one, mostly to show off his his audience. "It gets kind of boring to watch, but feel free to stay. There're some good places to get food nearby if you get hungry. It's gonna take a while." He set into his work, chooing the ore, melting it down and putting into the mold. The fires from his kiln began to glow white-hot as he did so, preparing to heat up and make the damascas metal malleable.

The process went quickly, creating a large ish wedge that would have served as a worthwhile club, but no where near the grade a sword would be. He put it into the kiln, using special tongs that he spent a pretty penny on. Though it was hard to tell, they were made of pravelda and of the highest quality, but that paled compared to the elegance of his adamantium hammer. It wasn't the same pure fabled metal, but it was made by a rather skilled wizard, and one of the most useful weapons in the blacksmiths arsenral. He smilied, getting to what always found to be the reason why he became a blacksmith.

He pulled the glowing sword from the kiln, and began to shape it under his hammer. It went quickly compared to making the core shape of the sword. The edge came quickly after, and he basic sword was made. Watching him work on the word was almost like watching a painter. He went through the steps, quickly finishing the first stage of the sword. He never truly bothered to anneal the blade, preffering to simply let it finish as it was. The sword cooled and was heated, filed down and shaped, and beaten for quite some time. Will was an efficient blacksmith, though it took him a good amount fo time before the sword was done, and it was somewhat beyond nightfall when he finished with most of the blade. All it truly required now was the sharpening. Will didn't even realize that he was tired until the hilt was attached to the blade, a large yawn escaping from him as he did so. Time also did seem to fly by as he worked. He looked back, not terribly surprized to still see the girl there. He smilied sleepily at her, holding her sword, now nearly complete. It was still dirty, not sharp and probably could have been mistaken for a strange stick, but for one well versed in weaponry the show of workmanship shown through the flithiness.

"I'll need some time tomarrow to finish this blade of yours," Will began. He set it down lovingly on a pair of hooks, so it hanged there in plain veiw. "Though you welcome to stay here if you want for the night. My partner Jack'll be here in the morning if his letter meant anything, and he'll fit your chainmail while I finish up the sword. There's an inn if you want too somewhere around here too if you want that. If not, you can just use my bed and I'll take a bench or something."

((Transaction is basically done, just finishing out the RP stuff.))

[Christina Bredith]

“Boring to watch” did, unfortunately, describe this process. Christina tried to be interested, she really did, but it was so difficult to stay focused on a piece of metal that was just being heated and hammered and cooled and repeated and… oh, so repetitive! But for Will’s sake, she continued to watch. Besides, it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do.

However quickly the process may have gone, it seemed like half an age to Christina, but she did her best and bravest to look interested nevertheless. There was confusion on her face when she finally saw the weapon, though. Now, she was no expert on swords, but the blade didn’t look very sharp… but then the blacksmith told her that he’d need another morning to finish up, and it all clicked.

“Alright then,” she said, straightening up and smiling. She was a bit excited to get everything done in one night, but she realized that it was a bit of a naïve goal, seeing as she knew nothing about the forging of weapons and armour. Besides, it was getting late, so she’d have had to stop off at an inn in town anyway.

But at Will’s suggestion, she shakes her head and holds out a finger. “Ohhh no, I wouldn’t dream of imposing. There’s a charming little place just down the way. So I~ will see you in the morning!” Slipping the sack in which she kept the rune gems over her shoulder (because it was weighing too heavily on her waist), Christina headed for the door, wiggling her fingers in a good-bye wave as she faded from sight. She would return the next day to finish the transaction.

[Artifex Felicis]

((Transaction is complete, and the stuff can be used. Expect this post to be edited sometime in the future with a real IC post so you can pick the stoof up.))