Night was already creeping in as the city's bustle began to fade. Vendors were closing their stalls for the day, their work done.
Meanwhile, others were just beginning—opening the avenues of the night. Taverns and pubs filled with laughter and cheer, as people made merry after a long day's toil.
Irvin was walking ahead, Allen following closely behind, His eyes darted to a stall on the side of the cobble stone road.There was an assortment of weapons: swords, daggers, there was even a war hammer hung to the side.
They looked superb and enticing, but Allen knew better, those bastards from Golden Accord- an alliance of merchants- were not to be trusted. They only cared about profit- their wares attractive to the eye but with flaws, only a discerning eye could point out.
Many were cases of their 'shiny' wares failing mid battle where the cost of such was death, quite unfortunate.
"Lets head for the smith"
That was ideal since they wouldn't know how long it would take to customise or forge new shortswords for Allen, they had to commision them as soon as possible;also to get an estimate of how long to rent for accomodations.
A few minutes walk.
Allen's nose was assaulted by the scent of burning metal and the loud clanks of hammers striking anvils.
They had arrived to the general area.
Smiths were everywhere..clouds of smoke rising from their chimneys.
People from all walks of life filled the district—adventurers haggling with smiths to the left, a group of dwarven and human blacksmiths trading light banter over mugs of rum.
After a series of turns, they arrived to a back alley, at the furthest corner were sounds of clanking hammers, the forge.
The place was unremarkable—an almost deserted walkway, old wooden signs hanging crookedly, ready to fall at any moment.
Irvin entered followed by Allen, they were then assulted by a wave of heat, smoke ; truly fit to be called a forge.
At the furthest back- was a bulky dwarf, working on the furnace, his hand holding tongs heating a rod of metal.
He glanced back towards Irvin, a frown, then observed Allen for a moment . And went back to his work.
"Ahh, my good friend Ortolan."
Irvin said, cheerful as always, but his stance betrayed a hint of nervousness.
"Ye' got some nerve coming back here... after disappearing with mi' money.."
The dwarf, tongs grasped in his toned hands went towards Irvin
"I did?" Irvin said, feining surprise, "It must have slipped my mind."
He said all this while steadily backing away, keeping the anvil between himself and the dwarf like a barricade.
"Come 'er , ye' bastard!"
They were now in a chase, Ortolan the dwarf chasing and Irvin running around the anvil,dodging.
Eventually the charade stopped, the dwarf gave up on ever catching the elf.
"What do you want now? Scam me again?!"
"I would never" Irvin grumbled, a disappointed look in his face- which disappeared the next instant, "My young friend here needs a new set of weapons; an upgrade"
"Where else would we find a brilliant craftsman like you Ortolan." he proceeded with his bootlicking
"Ye got a name,boy?"
"Allen"
"Hmm... take your picking." Ortolan said gesturing to the adjacent wall.
There was an assortment of weapons hanging on that wall- swords, rappiers, a set of daggers, a quiver full of arrows, shields of different shapes.
Allen examined a few swords ...checking for balance, whirring when hit with a piece of metal,his darts.
All this while, the dwarf full attention was on him.
"Ye' got guts kid"
Allen glanced back but still went on with his business.
A few swings with swords, too long, not his taste.
The daggers came next- stabs ,slashes ...too short, didn't have his desired reach.
He stopped. Nothing had caught his eye.
Not that there was anything wrong with them; No, they were superb weapons.
That said much about the skill of the dwarf.
When Allen stopped, the dwarf went on with his craft, completely ignoring Allen.
Irvin had to jump in
"Can't you show him your special stash? ....for old time's sake."
The dwarf grunted
"Kid do you have the coin?"
A nod from Allen
"Alright, follow me."
Ortolan grunted, then opened a hatch leading down to the basement.
It was like a whole new world was unveiled to Allen.
The weapons: arranged in racks, maniquen in full metal armour.
On the left wall was a row of unstrung bows, ebony and shiny black, fiery red ...another was completely bony- white.
Longbows. Recurve bows. Composite bows.
You name it. They were all there
There was even a crossbow hanging in the coner.
Allen took it all in, mouth slightly agape in awe.
"Ye specifications boy!"
"Shortswords...for speed and precision. Not too long or bulky" Allen said, his eyes still glued to the displayed work of art.
Ortolan pointed to the wall...there they were-shortswords and daggers
The shortswords screamed of superb craftsmanship.
A few swings made him feel like he had become one with the blades.
Eventually he settled down with two.
They were double edged with one having a serrated edge.
The serrated edge—perfect for tearing through flesh and leaving nasty wounds.
"Great choice."
The dwarf said ...examining the weapons.
After a short moment of examining his work, Ortolan said facing Allen.
"Hmm,,, I have a pair that will really hook you"
He then opened an old chest
Lying within was a set of shortswords.
"One of my greatest works"
The case opened with a muted click, revealing the twin blades nestled in velvet as dark as a starless sky. They lay side by side, mirror opposites yet born of the same deadly purpose. Both were black as night, double-edged, and perfectly balanced—crafted for silence, for speed, for precision.
The first sword bore a wicked serration along its lower edge, the teeth finely cut like the bite of a predator. It gleamed faintly in the low light, as if hungry for flesh. This was a blade meant to tear, to punish—raw and brutal.
The second was smoother than still water, its surface clear and glass-like, forged from a rare metal known only in whispered legends: moonshard. Pale veins shimmered beneath its transparent edge, catching the light in ethereal arcs. It looked fragile—but Allen knew better. This blade could cleave through steel without a whisper.
Allen stood over them in silence, his eyes sharp with a warrior's calculation. He was lean, coiled like a drawn bow, and his gloved hand hovered briefly before selecting the serrated blade. He drew it free, the weight familiar, deadly. He gave it a few quick arcs through the air—silent cuts that stirred the dust. The teeth sang softly, a muted growl in the silence.
Then he reached for the moonshard sword.
It was colder to the touch, impossibly light. As he held it up, the light fractured across the blade, casting faint reflections across the walls like shifting moonlight on water. He spun it once, twice—smooth, elegant, silent.
Allen exhaled slowly.
"These weren't made for show," he murmured.
No—these were tools of purpose. One for the chaos of battle. One for the quiet kill. Together, they were balance, Shadow and starlight.
Allen looked at the dwarf expectantly.
"I don't think I have the coin for such works of art."
L
"I didn't think so... I have some tasks for someone of your skillset- complete them plus your coin will do-I might even throw in a discount."
"I need leather of nightdrake, you are familier with the creature right? "
Allen had seen the creature;in paintings, at least.
They were infamous creatures, many had fallen under their claws, ended as an unwilling meal.
Tales of their terror were many- chaos ensued whenever on was spotted.
But with danger came opportunity, they were walking bags of gold- if you managed to slay one- leather tough , best for making durable but light armour
Claws forged for superb daggers, sinews famed to make the best bowstrings, bones, flesh;served in exquisite noble restaurants as a rare delicacy.
Every part of the beast had use.
This was quite the ask.
"That is a lot of trouble for a pair of shortsword eh'?....my life is on the line here."
Allen protested.
"Alright, keep ye coin."
"But you will have to do another task for me...nothing too hard, call it eh... recovery and disposal mission."
Apparent Ortolan wanted some adventurer taken care of, and recover a crossbow.
The adventurer had paid half price promising to pay later, but eventually refused.
Him and his cohort were quite strong, therefore there was nothing Ortolan could do except grumble and complain in silence.
"Do that and I will even make you a new pristine armour from the nightdrake ...even throw in a set of daggers forged from its bones"
Allen paused for a moment considering the deal.
It would take his all, but chances of succeeding were not abbysmal. He would take his chances.
The deal was too good to be passed over. Allen agreed to it.
He would now have to prepare, kill someone recover a crossbow, go for a hunt- not too bad right?
Not that they would be easy to complete, also he gets to remain with his coin.
A bit of time passed, Allen and Ortolan brushing and polishing through info needed, shook hands. The deal was sealed.
The weapons would remain with Ortolan for the time being, he managed to loan the two shortswords- those he had liked before the masterpiece was shown- temporarily.
It was time to settle down and prepare to hunt some bastards.