Zention the Falcata

Finan was busy stuffing his face, his one eye wide in amazement at the large plates of food before him. "I haven't seen so much food in me life!"

Ragnar chuckled as he tussled the young lad's hair, "Don't eat too much now, lad, we don't want you puking out whatever you've just consumed." He said as he raised a slab of meat to his lips.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a dainty hand going for one of his pieces of bread and raised his finger in warning at the sly Eve. "And stick to only eating what you have on your plate, woman. I'm surprised you have such a strong appetite."

The freckled lady blushed in embarrassment as she too stuffed a large piece of meat in her mouth. "I've been kept hungry because my father wanted me thin and delicate for when he married me off to a suitor. We were thinking about siding with Maine and marrying me off to the count."

Ragnar sneered in memory of the Baron, "I'm tired of people being treated like filth. Those in my retinue will be fed and kept safe. As such we will need to find accommodation for the lot of you. I'll talk to the tavern woman for rooms and see if I can't get some for you. Eve and Erika, the two of you will be staying with me in the Baron's manor. Marquise, you will take care of Finan for the time being."

Marquise rose out of his seat, and his shrewd blue eyes lowered in affirmation to the command. "Yes, milord. What are the plans for the rest of the day?"

Ragnar smiled at the Frenchman, "Hah! The next plan is to pick up my sword from the blacksmith. I've been waiting long enough for the day I could test the capabilities of Zention."

Everyone's eyes flickered in excitement. They'd seen Ragnar with the axe, but they all knew his real skills lay in the sword department. Erika was especially excited because she understood a good sword's impact on one's status and image.

Ragnar noticed that everyone had finished eating and stood to clarify that they were leaving.

As Finan turned around to run out of the tavern and head to the blacksmith, the barmaid approached them to ensure they didn't leave without paying their due.

The red-headed tavern woman mischievously smiled. "Oh milord Ragnar, what a lovely day it is to see you."

Ragnar appraised the young woman from head to toe for a second before sifting through his memories, "Ah Gisela, lovely to see you as well. It has been a while. Are there any rooms available for my two men over here?"

Gisela took the look of appraisal as a sign of interest and came up close to trace the outline of Ragnar's armor, "Yes, of course, milord, I'd be happy to show you."

"The room, obviously." She winked as she clarified to ensure that no one rebuked her for what she was insinuating.

Ragnar sighed, slowly grabbing the tavern wench's palm and plopping the coin in her open hand. "That's the coin I owe for both the meal and the room for the two of them. Give them the best one you have available."

The barmaid frowned at the rejection but continued undeterred, "Oh but Ragnar milord. One of such stature as you shouldn't be paying for his meals. You already do too much for us with your protection. Let me make it up to you." She looked upwards into Ragnar's eyes and batted her plump eyelashes suggestively.

Eve fumed at the lady's open flirtatiousness and nearly threw herself at the wench. While Erika, on the other hand, smirked as she sat once again with a knowing expression, half expecting Ragnar to walk away with the woman right now.

Ragnar looked at the woman who was willingly throwing herself at his feet with boredom, "Listen, Gisela, I'm about to pick up a sword that I've commissioned. We will talk later." He pushed Gisela's hand away and strode past her.

Eve and Erika raised their eyebrows in surprise before giggling at the shocked expression of the tavern woman as they ran after the hulking figure of Ragnar.

Finan also brushed past as Marquise shook his head at the young woman. "Our Lord has turned ruthless after his first battle. You should have seen him on the field. He has been dubbed Almighty, and a man like him would never be with a woman like you." His mature eyes crinkled in amusement as he patted the young lady's shoulder for comfort before slipping past her and following the rest of the crew.

The incident at the tavern concluded as the crowd made their way up to the smithy, its large entrance giving way to the eternally messy counter.

Looking around, Ragnar saw the place empty, "Bjorn!" He thundered as he strode into the room.

The crew waited for a couple of seconds before the slowly hobbling blacksmith came round the curtains covering the back of the smithy. "Ah! Ragnar you're finally here. Come, Come! I have much to show you."

Ragnar followed the crippled man behind the curtains to the back of the smithy that contained many newer and sharper weapons adorning the wall.

"A friend of mine did the work on the scabbard, a fine work he did, I must say," Bjorn said as he rubbed his palms in nervous excitement.

The sword and scabbard were laid out on a linen mat. The sword was truly unique and impressive. The crossguard was polished and sanded down to a matte gold glaze, inlaid with silver scrollwork and the marking of the blacksmith.

The grip was wrapped with strips of gold and silver in an intricate pattern, while the golden bejewelled pommel was curved upward for the palm to rest on and had a small emerald the size of Ragnar's thumb embedded on the top of each side.

The scabbard was curved to fit the blade and was made of blackened steel and lined with silver oiled fur. The curved nature of such a scabbard allowing for a quick draw of the blade from the hips.

A golden locket hung from the side of the scabbard, inlaid with the Sigvald family crest, which gave it a sophisticated design that wasn't overly gaudy.

Ragnar grinned in appreciation of the sword, "Bjorn, my friend! You have surpassed all expectations. Shall we test the sword to see how it performs?" He smacked the back of the old man with joy.

The smith grinned as he replied, "I thought you'd never ask."

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