M43

Morgan was happy. He was so happy that he felt guilty about it. He was healthier than he’d ever been; he had new friends, a new world, and even a budding relationship with the most amazing woman he could imagine. Walking over the bridge, along the rail with Issa holding onto his arm, made him think about how much he’d gained coming to this world. He thought about how much his sister would have loved it. Morgan thought about how many people he’d seen killed fighting for scraps. He thought about other colony ships landing on inhospitable planets and having to scrape a living out of frozen soil. He thought about all of these things, then looked down at Issa’s eyes looking up at him, and all he could do was feel lucky.

They had just met with Issa’s father, Roald, at his shop. Roald was a strong-looking man who, to Morgan’s eyes, didn’t seem old enough to have a grown daughter. He had been welcome and very warm to Morgan, somehow crediting Morgan with his daughter’s safe return from the Crucible, even though Morgan insisted they had helped each other at least equally. Issa had smiled along during the interaction, the impish twinkle in hers making Morgan theorize that she’d talked him up a great deal to her father.

Roald had apologized for having to work, saying he had a big project to complete for an important client but had insisted that they return to their family home for a celebratory dinner.

However, before they had left, Morgan noticed that Roald had a few weapons on display and remarked about how well made they seemed. Roald had informed him that he had a deal with a weaponsmith in town: he added enchantments and sold them from his shop, splitting the mark-up with the smith. Naturally, this got Morgan’s mind working, and he’d asked Issa to take him to visit her father’s partner as soon as they left.

Now, as they strolled over the bridge and back to the market square, Morgan smiled at the easy comfort with which he held Issa’s hand. “I really missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster.” He said, kissing the top of her head as they left the bridge and walked among the market crowd.

“You made it! That’s what’s important. I was afraid you’d be across the world and take months or years to get here. I knew you’d come, though! I felt you, I think. Each time you used your skill to sense me? I think I felt you.”

“Well, that’s one thing the System has done for me that I can’t think of any complaints about. You should know, each time I reached out to sense you, everything seemed to be okay for a few minutes.” Morgan felt sappy saying it, but, so far, being honest with Issa had never done him wrong.

“The shop’s this way,” Issa said, squeezing his hand and pulling him out the western edge of the market square. They walked in front of storefronts, receiving occasional glances and smiles from the people they passed. A few people called out a greeting to Issa, and she smiled and waved.

“You’re pretty popular in this town!”

“Well, there aren’t that many people living here, and word spread about my time in the Crucible pretty quickly. Plus, I got offered a class that’s unique around here.”

“Oh shit! I haven’t asked you; what class did you get?” Morgan stopped and pulled Issa around to face him.

“Battle Witch!” She said, grinning fiercely.

“That sounds… well, that sounds scary,” Morgan said, pushing Issa back to arm’s length.

“Hey!” She knocked his hands aside and pushed forward, grabbing him into a hug. “Are you scared of me now?” She asked, nuzzling his chest.

“No, I’m just kidding, but that sounds like a pretty impressive class. Can you tell me about it at all?”

“Sure,” she said, pulling back again. “It’s an Advanced class like yours. It provides me with abilities to help in close-quarters fighting and spells to enhance myself and my companions in battle.”

“So, you’re kinda a celebrity because you aren’t a hunter or some non-combat class?” Morgan asked, taking a closer look at the expensive-looking clothing and armor that Issa was wearing. Issa took an exaggerated sniff of him as they turned to keep walking.

“By the way, you stink!”

“Hey! I’ve been on the road! How about you take me someplace to buy some new clothes and get a bath after I talk to the smith?” She nodded, laughing, and pulled him into a faster walk.

The weaponsmith’s shop was only a couple of streets off the market square and had a building all of to itself. It sat on the corner of two roads; the side facing the north-south street was open and exposed a well-equipped forge. The side of the shop facing the other street was the storefront. Issa led Morgan right past the storefront and back to the forge area. A well-muscled Ardeni man wearing a heavy leather apron was busily hammering away at a bright piece of metal held between the pincers of some heavy tongs.

“Brint!” Issa yelled over the clamor of the hammer, pinging away at the metal.

“Hmm,” the man said, holding his hammer in the air and looking around. “Oh, miss Issa! What brings you?”

“This,” Issa said, pulling Morgan over and pointing at him, “is Morgan, the man I went through the Crucible with and someone I care about very much. He wants to buy a sword from you.”

“Uh, pleased to meet you,” Morgan said, his face flushing a little. He reached a hand out to shake. The smith, for his part, smiled broadly within his bushy black beard and put down his tongs and hammer. He made a show of pulling off his leather glove and then shook Morgan’s hand with a grip that felt like it could collapse a steel beam. Morgan gamely hung on, gripping with everything he had and thinking about how Brint was the first Ardeni he’d met that didn’t have colorful hair.

“Well,” he said, letting go of Morgan’s hand at last, “seems like you have some potential. What kind of weapon are ya looking for, youngster?”

“I’m looking for a particular kind of sword.” Morgan pulled his katana out of his ring. “You see, this sword has the correct blade style, being slightly curved and single-edged, but it’s just too short for my style.” He handed the blade to the smith, who took it and waved it around a bit, then tapped the steel with his hammer.

“I know the design. This is a pretty cheap blade though, who crafted it?”

“Oh, I bought it from the Contribution Store in our settlement.”

“Ahh, yeah, unless you pay a lot, and I mean a lot, of contribution points, you get some pretty shit craftsmanship out of those shops. Anyway, what is this, a bit more than two feet of blade? Sure the handle is long enough to grip with two hands, but if your style is focused on two-handed weapons, this won’t do.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m finding out.” Morgan shrugged. “Do you have something like what I need?”

“Why’d you change from the spear, Morgan?” Issa asked from next to him.

“Um, it’s a long story, but suffice to say, I felt like the System was leading me around by the nose, so I’m kinda rebelling, I guess.” The smith watched him with solemn eyes as Morgan spoke, then slightly nodded.

“Let’s go into the shop, and I’ll show you my sword room.” Brint pulled off his other glove and gestured for Morgan and Issa to follow him through the wooden door to the back of his shop. From there, he led them through a stockroom full of crates and barrels and then up a side hallway. Morgan saw an opening to the storefront off to his right, but the smith kept walking to another sturdy door on the left. He fished a heavy keyring out of his apron pocket and then unlocked the door, pushing it open.

A yellow-white light flared from a hanging fixture as they entered the room. Morgan could see by its brightness and lack of smoke that it was some sort of Energy lamp. He couldn’t study it, though, because his eyes were drawn to the walls of the room. Hundreds of swords of all shapes and sizes were affixed to wooden display cases. Their blades gleamed in the light, sharpened and oiled to protect them from the elements. “Here are my one-handed swords on this wall. Here in the middle are my greatswords, and on the right, here, are my long-blades and bastard or hand-and-a-half blades.” He walked over to the right wall, and Morgan followed.

Morgan’s eyes roved over the blades. Some were thick, straight, and obviously very heavy. Some were slender and elegant with two edges. Then his eyes wandered to the right side of the wall where an assortment of single-edged swords hung. Some looked similar to his katana, though a bit longer, but one caught his eye immediately; it reminded him of the swordsman’s weapon in his vision. The sword had a long round hilt, wrapped in some sword of light-grey leather. Its blade was significantly wider than his katana and a good twelve inches longer. The pommel was a round ball of steel with what looked like a tiger’s eye gem set directly in the middle. Other than that, it was unadorned; even the guard was just a plain steel ring, only slightly wider than the hilt.

“That’s the one I was thinking of when you described what you needed,” the smith said, standing quietly next to Morgan. “Well, go ahead, pick it up.”

“Alright.” Morgan picked up the sword, noticing the rough sandpapery feel of the leather hilt and its significant heft right away. He stepped back from Brint and Issa and lifted the blade into a high guard. He looked around to make sure he had room, then moved into The Crane Defends the nest and quickly transitioned to The Crane Flutters its wings. The movements felt more ponderous with the big sword, but the whoosh and snapping sound of the blade cutting the air was viscerally gratifying. The forms felt completely different with a proper sword.

“Interesting style,” Brint commented as Morgan flicked the blade around and hung it back on the display board.

“I got it from the System, and I hope it wasn’t a mistake. It’s incomplete, and from the description, I’m going to have to work at finding the rest of it.” Morgan grinned. “I kind of like the challenge, though.”

“Well, how did the sword feel with it?”

“Perfect.” Morgan couldn’t hide the eager smile on his face.

“Mmhm, I was afraid of that.” Brint looked at Issa with some trepidation but continued, “That blade is twenty percent Amber Ore. It took me nearly a month to forge. I’d love to give you a sword, seeing as you’re special to Issa, but I can’t let this one go for free.” He lowered his gaze, not wanting to meet Issa’s eyes.

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect it for free,” Morgan quickly said before Issa could speak up. “Thank you very much for even considering that! I hope I can pay a fair price; what would you ask?”

“Well, if you were a stranger, I’d charge you five-hundred standard Energy beads.” He glanced at Issa, “But, I can cut my artisan fee in half for family and friends. Three-hundred for materials and another hundred for my labor.” Morgan glanced at Issa and saw that she was frowning, but she didn’t say anything. He figured she thought the deal was fair but didn’t think he had the money for it. He’d figured out from the Contribution Store that his dual-attuned Energy beads from the Yovashi were worth three times a standard bead. He had five bags of fifty left.

“I can do that. Thank you for the discount, Brint!”