John gave the boy’s stump a cursory look as he explained the injury. Explained it with little more than a sentence or two, though. Not like he owed the giant blacksmith an explanation anyways. For having lost an arm, he seemed robust and healthy. Mrs Lolich must be good at her craft, John knew men who had died after losing limbs simply due to infection. John gave a cursory look at his bandages and walked to his closet, fishing around among diagrams of sigils, blacksmithing plans, and one very large tome, which held a box on top of it. He left the book, taking the box. He returned to the boy, noticing the wound again, and gave a more investigative look to his bandages.

“That isn’t healed properly yet, is it? Listen, boy, if I’m to make this thing for you, you need to be able to move well with this when I fit it. Now, if you’ve got no feeling, that’s that, but if this doesn’t fit perfectly, then it will fail, and in the moment of highest stress.”

He was eye level with his customer, even with the chair under him. He locked eyes with the boy and nodded. He lost an arm, John imagined that he knew the risks, but he made sure to say it anyway. He nodded curtly, and opened the box. Inside, there were several small items for measurement, along with a few smaller boxes which held engraving tools. He took a small tape, and started by measuring the boy’s good arm.

John was about to tell the boy that he’d be able to keep what was left of his arm, but stopped short as he spoke.

“-in another man’s war.”

John’s eyes narrowed a bit and he shifted his grip on the boy’s arm. His giant hand easily wrapped all the way around his bicep, and he looked his customer in the eye.

“Whose war, boy?”