Upgrading A Dagger

[Quentin Boone]

Quentin walked into the smith's shop with a slight smile on his face. He was impressed with the spiked hand wraps Neal had made for him, and was hoping to get some more work done.

There were a multitude of weapons on display, either in cabinets or hung on the walls of the shop. Quentin spent a few minutes perusing the old man's work; some were familiar to him, weapons in the same style as he'd seen Citadel fighters wielding. Clearly Adal had kept his word about sending his fighters here.

The bearded brawler stood before the counter when he was finished, and waited for the aged smith to come through from the back. When he did, Quentin offered him a warm smile and held his hand out in greeting. "Neal, I see ya've 'ad some good business from Adal's fighters. I've got some work fer ya meself."

After shaking hands, Neal tilted his head in question. Boone unsheathed the dagger at his waist and waved it around near-carelessly. "Ya've been givin' all them fighters fantastic weapons an' I just can't compete with this iron knife. Can ya upgrade it me t'steel?"

Quentin flipped the dagger and held it by the blade, leather-bound hilt pointing to Neal. "Take a look, how much is it gonna cost?"

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Neal looked up as one of his best customers wandered in, and the two exchanged warm greetings.

The old smith scratched at his beard, fingers clawing at the scraggly hair covering his chin. "Aye, business has been good, lad. You have my thanks for that."

He looked around at the now bountiful harvest of lethal blades and bludgeons lining the racks along his walls, smiling to himself. It was true; since the fighter had come in and arranged trade with the other fighters in the area he had found a new love of his craft that he hadn't felt in years.

Quentin flipped his dagger and held it out to Neal, hilt first, and the man took the weapon in his calloused hands, turning his expert eye over the weapon.

"Hmm.. aye, I can do that easily enough," he said, still rubbing his jaw. He took a moment to unfasten the leather binding the grip and examining the blade.

"Just need to unfasten these here rivets, slide the blade out, get a measurement on the tang and blade..."

Neal nodded, setting the blade down next to the unravelled leather strip from the grip.

"Shouldn't take me more than an hour to make you a new blade, lad. Call it twenty-five gold."

[Quentin Boone]

Quentin nodded his approval at the price. Neal was shaping up to be good on his word, and the bearded brawler needed all the ally's he could get. "Tha's awesome, my friend. I wan' it to be yer best work, mind. I gotta outmatch all them young fighters, ya know."

He took the coinbag from his waist and started counting what he had, hoping Neal wouldn't charge too much more for a masterpiece. "So, d'ya have anyone else workin' for ya?"

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Neal paused at the request.

"My best work, you say?"

A slow grin crept across the man's scraggly-bearded face. He took a moment to consider the work, and how he could improve on the basic design of what was essentially the most basic of all bladed weapons.

"Aye, I can do that for you, lad," he said quietly with a friendly wink, "but keep it between us. Wouldn't want everyone coming in here and putting you at a disadvantage again, would we?" He chuckled softly.

"That'll be a bit more of your coin, lad, but believe me, it'll be worth it. That brings the price up to sixty-three gold, but as I said," he added again, wagging a finger at the bearded brawler, "it'll be worth the price."

[Quentin Boone]

Quentin smiled in return; half in reciprocation, half in amusement at the comical near-toothless grin of the old smith. "That'll do me, friend."

He counted out the gold pieces and handed them to Neal, "There ya go, I look forward to seein' the results."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The work, all told, took more than an hour. But Neal had assured Quentin it was necessary to achieve the desired result for his weapon.

The old smith took his time, ensuring every inch of the blade was as perfect as his mortal hands could make it before he was finally satisfied with the results. But, satisfied he was. The Coronian scratched his beard, the heat from the forge irritating his dry skin something fierce, but he returned to the fighter in the front of the store with an oiled leather cloth.

The old smith wasn't one for blowing his own trumpet, but he had to admit he was proud of the weapon.

"Well, lad, here you go," he smiled, unveiling the dagger.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Transaction Complete.

63 GP to be deducted from Quentin Boone's account.

[Silence Sei]

GP removed.