Sword

Over the span of a second, his face went from angry, to recognition, and lastly, to worry. With one swift move, he pulled up his trousers, straightened his back, and eyed Lord Silcrest warily. The dim orange flames of the fireplace reflected off the man's light blond hair, which stuck up in wild tufts.

"You know, Erdmund, I don't mind if you woo the women of the kingdom, but I do wish you'd do it later, when there isn't work to be done," Lord Silcrest said. He scanned the room once more, then stepped inside, and waved at the blond man. "Please. Find yourself a shirt, then sit down. There are some people here I'd like you to meet."

Lord Silcrest led Cyrus and the other's into the room as Erdmun grabbed a loose white tunic from the side, and slipped it over his head. Once dressed, he turned back to the group, first studying Lord Silcrest, then glancing at Cyrus and the others.

"What brings you here, Lord Silcrest?" Erdmun asked. His voice was stable, despite the fact he had just been caught with a woman. His gaze flickered to Lewn. "I see you brought an alchemist. Do you need us to transport something for him?"

"Not at the moment," Lord Silcrest said. He sat on a couch beside the fireplace, and gestured toward Cyrus and Sylven. "These two. I'd like them to join your crew as you travel to the Cilthrin Shores. They are willing to work for their passage."

"I see…" Erdmun said. He crossed his arms, and rubbed the blond stubble growing along his chin while studying Cyrus and Sylven. "And, pray tell, why would I do that? Not to be rude, but neither of them looks as though they've spent even a day aboard a ship before, let alone working on it. Do they even know the first thing about sailing?"

"Perhaps not, but I'm sure you'll be able to teach them," Lord Silcrest said. His lips formed a thin line as his eyes narrowed. "Think of it as a punishment for all the women you've brought in here, during work hours, no less."

Erdmun winced. "You know about that?"

"That, and more," Lord Silcrest said. "But you're a decent captain, and it'd be a shame to lose you. As such, I hope you'll listen to this simple request of mine."

Erdmun sighed. "Very well. They can join. We leave the first morning of next week, dawn and no later. If they're not here by then, we won't wait for them."

"I'd expect no less from one of my captains," Lord Silcrest said. He grinned, and clapped his hands. "Good. Erdmun, I'd like you to meet Cyrus, and Sylven. Cyrus, Sylven, I'd like you to meet Erdmun. Despite how he looks, he's one of my more reliable captains, all the way from the northern nation of Railvyn."

"It's good to meet you," Erdmun said, leaning against the desk. "As long as you listen to what I say, and follow my directions without question, I'm sure we'll get along great."

"Wonderful. Now that introductions are out of the way, we'll take our leave," Lord Silcrest said. As he stood, he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, and Erdmun. Don't let me catch you in here with a woman again. I don't like having to tell people twice not to do something."

"I understand," Erdmun said, lowering his head. 

Lord Silcrest gave a slight nod, and led the way outside. It didn't take them long to reach the manor, at which point Lord Silcrest said his farewells, and Lewn led the group back to the carriage. 

"That was certainly quite… intimidating," Cyrus said. He situated himself next to the window again, and sat back as the carriage wheels squeaked to life. "Is he always like that?"

"You should have seen me when I was asking for his daughter's hand," Lewn said. He shivered. "I'll never forget the way he glared at me. Barely managed to walk out of the room at the end."

"He was certainly something," Sylven said. He glanced out the window, and frowned. "Lewn, would you mind asking the driver to take us to the blacksmiths? Since there's still time before we have to be back, I'd like to buy a few things, and also purchase a sword for Cyrus here."

"Oh?" Lewn raised his brow. "I suppose we could make a quick stop."

He turned, and slid open a panel behind his head, which allowed him to speak directly to Wilhos. After a quick exchange of words, the carriage turned down a bustling street, lined with a variety of stores, shops, and market stalls.

...

Heat radiated from the back of the blacksmiths shop, thick with humidity, and the smell of smoldering oak. Shelves lined the walls around the store, stocked with iron hammers, axes, nails, and hinges, among other things. A set of stairs led to a second floor, where more wares were shown, ranging from clasps, to spokes, and iron wheel rings. 

At the counter near the back, a young man negotiated with a couple of farmers over the prices of horseshoes. It didn't take them long to reach an agreement, though the farmers left with scowls.

Once they were gone, Cyrus followed Sylven up to the counter while Lewn headed over to the shelves containing thin iron rods. The man behind the counter leaned forward with a grin, revealing a smudge of soot along his chin.

"I don't believe I've seen you in here before. My name's Westen. Is there something I can help you find?"

"Two whetstones and a double-edged sword, an arm's length," Sylven said. He dropped a pouch of coins on the counter, to which Westen arched his brow. 

"One moment. I'll see what we have," Westen said. He slipped through a doorway, and his muffled voice reverberated through the wall. A second voice responded, followed by a bit of scuffling, then Weston returned, carrying a iron sword, with a leather hilt, and a small chest.

Westen set the chest on the counter, and handed the sword to Sylven. "Will this do?"

Sylven eyed the blade, then gave it a slight swing, followed by a swift thrust. He nodded to himself, and flipped the sword around. "It's well balanced, which is nice, and the craftsmanship is not bad either. Here. Cyrus, give it a swing, and tell me what you think."

Cyrus gripped the hilt of the sword, and lifted it into the air. The light spilling in from the window reflected off the iron, and danced across the wall. It felt unfamiliar in his hand, and it weighed more than he thought.

Frowning, Cyrus swung the sword, only to stumble forward as the weight threw him off balance. Sylven caught his shoulder, being careful to stay clear of the edge. 

"Are you alright?"

Cyrus reset his footing, and straightened his back. "Yes, thanks."

He furrowed his brow, and studied the sword. "This may take some getting used to."

"I'll train you when we have time," Sylven said. He turned back to Westen. "How much for the sword and whetstones?"

"Thirty silver for the sword, and one silver for each whetstone," Westen said. He narrowed his eyes, studying Sylven. 

"I'm not going any higher than twenty-three silver for it all. If you can't accept that, then we'll go somewhere else," Sylven said. His gaze remained firm, and he set his jaw. 

Westen scoffed. "Go ahead. My price is reasonable, considering the craftsmanship, and material used."

"Very well," Sylven took the sword back from Cyrus, and set it on the counter, then turned on the heel of his boot. Cyrus frowned, but went to follow him when a middle aged man burst through the doorway in the back.

"Hold on. We accept."

Westen's eyes widened as the man hobbled up to the counter. "Father?"

"Quiet, Westen." The man said. He picked up the sword, ushering Cyrus and Sylven back. "Here. I'm willing to sell for your price, but for one condition. If anyone asks where you acquired it, could you tell them you bought it from here?"

"I don't have an issue with that, but is there a reason why?"

"It's a bit of a hobby of mine, you see, but people rarely come here looking for weapons," The man said. "However, if they see you with it, they may grow curious."

"I can respect that," Sylven said. "Good. We'll take the sword then. Also, would you happen to know a decent tailor? We still need to purchase a sheath and some guards."

"Melson, just down the road, should be able to help you out," Westen said. "Most of the city knights go to him for repairs, and whatnot, so he should be able to assist you." 

"Thank you," Sylven said. He handed the coin to Weston, then gave the sword to Cyrus, and collected the chest with whetstones for himself.

'So now I have a sword,' Cyrus thought, gripping the leather hilt. The smooth iron reflected his bright green eyes, hidden beneath his altered brown hair. Twisting the sword around, he slipped it through his belt loop. 

"Are you good to go?" Sylven asked.

Cyrus nodded. "I suppose so."