Flashback [Rearing stallion] I need a weapon {Marcus}

[Ronan Dugal]

Fall, 25th, Year 510 As usual, the streets of Syliras were filled with people. Most of them normal humans but every now and then a different type of race could be seen amongst them. Ronan wandered through the mass of people as they moved through the street. There was a problem he had to solve and no solution came to mind. Sighing to himself, Ronan stopped in front of the Stallion and contemplated walking inside. Perhaps a drink would help him focus and find a solution. He pushed the doors of the Stallion open and walked inside. A routine he had done so often already it had become second nature. He gave a nod to whoever was working behind the bar and looked for a seat at the bar. The man behind the counter asked for his order and Ronan decided to go with simple water, knowing that the bartender would dislike his choice as water was cheap. And cheap didn't get the bartender much extra pay. As he stepped over to one of the empty seats near the bar, Ronan took of his brown cloak and hung it over the stool he was about to sit on. Running his fingers through his hair quickly, Ronan made sure it looked presentable at least. As he sat on the stool, his keen blue eyes stared towards the back of the bar as he let his mind wander and think. The sudden increase of orders left Ronan without a designated contact to go to and the last three ones he had visited had turned out to not be as good as advertised. Leaning heavily on the bar counter, Ronan let out a sigh as he tried to find a solution to his problem. So many people in Syliras and he couldn't find the right one. Sipping from his drink, Ronan found himself slumping down as the problem continued to remain unsolved. Groaning and giving himself a mental scolding he pushed himself up in his seat and straightened his back. There was no time for pity. Only time for solving the problem. Brushing casually over his shoulders he removed imagined and real dust from his bordeaux-red and white clothes and straightened it around the middle, fixing his appearance in a few, well practiced, motions. With determination he turned towards the bartender and got his attention. "Excuse me, bartender. Would you know of any weaponsmiths around who could help me with a series of orders?"

[Marcus Braeden]

Sit down...relax. That was what the Rearing Stallion was for right? Relaxing. Marcus slouched in his seat next to the hearth and took another sip of his ale. That's right...just relax and let it all fade away he thought with another sip. Among the crowd at the stallion, Marcus was just another face trying to forget about real life. Being a weaponsmith wasn't the easiest of jobs, especially when you were the new guy at work. He was a capable young man, but he wasn't to sure that his fellow smiths quite believed it. While coworkers were creating blades of war, he was stuck creating common arrow heads or spear heads. Marcus finished up his mug of ale. The man let out a deep sigh seeing his empty glass, and got ready to leave. Maybe it was time to just call it a day. So, stood up and made his way for the door. But as he passed the bar, he overheard a question asked by another man. Normally Marcus wasn't one to meddle in other's affairs, but maybe Marcus could help the man. "Would you know of any weaponsmiths around who could help me with a series of orders?" was the question the man directed at the bartender. Upon hearing this Marcus couldn't help but lean in. "Sorry to interrupt but I overheard your question, and I can probably help. I am a weaponsmith down at the Ironworks here in town" Marcus said as he a took a seat on the barstool next to the man.

[Ronan Dugal]

Ronan looked away from the bartender and towards the man who had spoken while taking a seat next to Ronan. Coincidence? Ronan wondered if the man had been here with a purpose or if he had just happen to overhear the conversation. Either way, Ronan needed someone to help him, as soon as possible, and here was someone who could help him, perhaps. He smiled at the newcomer. "It's always nice to introduce yourself by name, weaponsmith." Ronan looked at him as he took a sip from his water. He put the mug down and reached in his outfit with his right hand, pulling a stack of paper and parchments out of some inner pocket. Showing a lack of interest in the man's name, Ronan looked over the papers in his hand, moving the paper to the back of the stack as he had finished it. After reading over two of the papers, letters from someone or to someone by the looks of them, Ronan focused back on Marcus. "I'm Ronan, by the way. Trader and... facilitator." He hesitated for a moment as he tried to grasp for a different word than 'errand boy'. Something that sounded more mature and more important. 'Errand man' didn't quite cut it. "How long have you been a smith? And where did you learn your trade, if I may know?" And that was about it. After those questions, Ronan had all the information he needed to know. If he knew the name of the man and the master he learned under, in combination with how long he had been at it, he could easily learn the rest on his own. He took another sip from the mug of water in front of him.

[Marcus Braeden]

Marcus smirked at the man, "Right, I'm Marcus. Marcus looked at the bartender and waved him over, ordering another mug of ale. Discussing business always made him thirsty, at least that's what he told himself. In reality he just wanted an excuse for another mug, after having finished his last mug. The bartender didn't hesitate and quickly brought him his glass. Marcus immediately took another sip before turning his attention back to his new companion. "Well, it's a pleasure Ronan, master trader" Marcus chuckled as he took another sip of ale. Marcus noticed the documents Ronan had pulled out and put aside. Marcus didn't think too much of them. They were probably ledgers, orders, or something of the like. Marcus had worked in a store his entire life. He knew a thing or two about a merchants life style. "Well, let's see. I've been at the trade for as long as I can remember. I apprenticed under my father since I was around ten or eleven. I'm 22 now" Marcus told the man. He specifically left out that he was apprenticed in Ravok, as he knew Syliran's were suspicious of the northern town, for good reason too. Marcus got out of the place as soon as he was able to, after his father passed away. Marcus wondered why the trader wanted to know his background. He probably wanted someone with experience. He had that, but if he was looking for renown, he would have to look elsewhere. His father wasn't anyone famous, just a man with a modest blacksmith. "What about you, master trader. How long have you been at it?"

[Ronan Dugal]

Ronan put the papers down on the counter in front of him as he listened to Marcus. While the man was talking, Ronan tried to see how good the man was. Sometimes certain things could give away a man's skill or lack thereof. In a bar it was often difficult to see any of those. And Blacksmiths did not have a certain spring in their step like sailors or professional fighters. Twelve years of experience. That could prove interesting. And he was trained by his father, which meant proper training, which was also good. "Twelve years already. Impressive." Ronan sipped from his water as Marcus seemingly ignored his last two questions. That was curious. And curious wasn't always good. How long had he been at it? That depended entirely on the way you saw things, of course. Some people wouldn't agree with a twelve year old bargaining for an apple being the start of someone's career. Others would disagree. "Officially, I've been 'at it' for eight years, give or take a season. Unofficially, I've been 'at it' for fifteen years, give or take a year. So I always like to think I'm entitled to a bit of boasting by throwing a title around like 'Master Trader'. Don't you?" He smiled at Marcus as he went back to sifting through the paper in front of him. He looked at a few papers a moment longer then the rest but put them back in the pile afterwards. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. Pulling the paper out of the stack he slid it over the counter towards Marcus. "Your first order. A test, if you like. Depending on your result, I might have something else for you as well." Ronan waved the stack of papers towards Marcus, letting the man know that there were more orders to be finished if he managed to pass Ronan's little test. Dear Ronan, I come to you with yet another request. It seems lately I have had need of you on many occasions. I borrowed my father's knife to protect my honor but the knife blade broke during the duel. My father can not find out about it. He will return around the 35th this season. Please, help me to fix the blade before he comes back. The message was signed with a very swirley and unreadable name which would probably mean nothing to Marcus even if he could decipher it. The order was simple, especially for an experienced weaponsmith like Marcus claimed to be. Ronan reached into one of his many pockets and pulled the broken knife out. The blade was wrapped in cloth to prevent cutting himself. "How long would you need for this order?" Ronan asked as he pushed the broken knife over the counter as well.

[Marcus Braeden]

"A test huh? Well I am confident that I can pass it" Marcus said with another sip of his ale. I guess Ronan doesn't quite trust me yet, fair enough I suppose Marcus thought to himself. Marcus waited idly while Ronan pulled out the order that would serve to be Marcus' test. What would it be? Make a sword? Simple. Craft an axe? Cakewalk. Make the Holy Sword of Sylir? Ok ok...that one could prove difficult. But it had turned out that Marcus' test would be even simpler than any of the ideas that passed through his mind. Dear Ronan, I come to you with yet another request. It seems lately I have had need of you on many occasions. I borrowed my father's knife to protect my honor but the knife blade broke during the duel. My father can not find out about it. He will return around the 35th this season. Please, help me to fix the blade before he comes back. Marcus glanced over the message and smirked. It would be an easy task. "Well, it'll take maybe half a day I'd bet, assuming the blade is what's broken. Now if the tang is broken...it'll take a full day, as I'll have to craft a brand new full blade and tang to attach to the hilt" Marcus said. Marcus quickly finished the rest of his ale and awaited Ronan's response.

[Ronan Dugal]

Ronan sat and sipped his water as Marcus read the letter. From the look on his face, Ronan could tell that the man wasn't very impressed with the task ahead but at the same time he also didn't look like he wouldn't focus on it. Ronan smiled. Perhaps people got lucky every now and then. This Marcus could be more than an apprentice looking for some quick cash. "Then I will leave you to it. I will come and collect the blade in 24 bells then. Which reminds me, whereabouts is your smithy?" Ronan hadn't even mentioned payment yet and neither had Marcus asked about it, which was a good sign in Ronan's book. People like that worked for working, for personal satisfaction. Well, usually they did. While Marcus was working on the knife, Ronan would have time to go and negotiate a price for it. Maybe he could get a little extra if he mentions having to outsource the task. Sure, like people paid him extra. Ronan took another sip from his water, finishing the mug. Ronan turned towards Marcus and looked the man over for a moment, imprinting his face and body shape into his mind. It would be easier than to go to the forge and ask for a smith in order to find Marcus. Ronan smiled and reached out his hand for a handshake. Every good deal needs a good handshake. "Tomorrow." A single word accompanied the handshake. Afterwards, Ronan would leave the Stallion, donning his cloak and head out to fulfill further business.

[Marcus Braeden]

Marcus took the broken dagger from Ronan and set it aside for now. Ronan looked content and simply stated that he would be back for it in 24 bells. Ah, guess I better get started now... It was a good thing the Ironworks was open at all hours, although Marcus wondered in their right mind would be up in the middle of the night making horseshoes. And who would ever need to go buy a sword in the middle of the nigh? Marcus chuckled at the thought of some shady character walking into the Ironworks demanding a dagger late at night. He wondered if they would actually sell it to him. Well, anything for business Marcus guessed. As long as they weren't surprised when a dead body turned up the next morning. "Oh right...it's called the Ironworks. It's the largest forge in Sylira, you can't miss it" Marcus told Ronan. With that the two exchanged a handshake, and Ronan made for the exit. Marcus grabbed the broken dagger and followed Ronan out the door. Ronan disappeared into the crowds of Syliras, most likely to take care of further business. Marcus turned in the opposite direction, heading for the Ironworks.

[Ronan Dugal]

Ronan adjusted the hood of his cloak so it wouldn't mess too much with his hair. Out of habit he pulled on both his sleeves, one at a time, making sure his outfit was in order. Outside the Stallion he turned right and headed up the street. Almost as soon as he got to the main road he got himself a carriage and named his destination. Normally not one for carriages, Ronan had taken the liberty this time, considering how he was about to go and meet with a client who was very desperate and therefor very easy to influence, like for example pay the carriage ride. With a polite knock, Ronan waited at the front door. The door was opened carefully and someone peeked around the corner to see who was there. Then the door was thrown open and a young man stepped out, about Ronan's age, who threw his arms around Ronan's neck. "My savior! Did you bring it?" Ronan wrestled with and managed to get the man's arms from around his neck and get some distance between them. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" His voice was colder then usual and his trader smile did nothing to hide that. "Of course, of course. Come in. A drink?" The young man stepped aside to let Ronan in, his arm waving towards the open door. Seated in a comfortable chair, Ronan swished the glass of wine around, letting the liquid spin around in the glass. The wine left a nice trail on the glass. It was good wine, expensive, and obviously not paid for by the young man sitting in front of him. Ronan raised the glass to his nose and smelled the taste. A little nutty and a little too strong for his nose. He took a small sip from the wine, just to get a taste. Nutty indeed and also a little too strong for his taste as well. Apart from that one sip, he left the glass alone, absently swishing the liquid around. "I have managed to find, after a lot of searching, a smith willing to take on your request. I have worked with him before and he has never let me down. You won't notice the difference once he is done. It'll take him a few days to finish however, the break was unfortunate he said." The young man in front of him was obviously not happy with the news. A few days was too much. According to what Ronan had picked up, his father would be home in a few days. Whether the few days before the return was more or less than the few days before the fixing of the blade was unknown. Ronan could feel the young man's distress from where he was sitting, swishing his wine.

[Marcus Braeden]

Marcus arrived at the forge soon enough with the broken dagger in hand. As he walked in, he grabbed a leather apron and pair of gloves off of the wall, putting both on. He set the two pieces of dagger on a free anvil near one of the fires. "Poor old thing. Let's see what happened to you" he muttered to himself as he began his inspection of the weapon. The dagger was split into two almost perfectly split in half, with the break occurring roughly a quarter of the way up the blade. At least it wasn't the tang. And to be honest he could have resmelted the thing in a few hours, but Marcus intended on making the dagger a even better than it was before. If the dagger had snapped once, simply fusing the parts back together would not prevent further breaks. Whichever smith had made the dagger had made some mistakes when making the blade. Blades should never break unless under a huge force, such as a warhammer. But to break in a simple brawl? That was some shoddy craftsmanship. Marcus held up the the the half consisting of the blade, and turned it on it's side, to gauge it's width. And then Marcus found where the smith had made a mistake. A typical blade would be extremely sharp and thin on the sides and the point, for cutting and stabbing. However the center of the blade would be a fair amount thicker. The previous smith had neglected to add this thick center, and so the blade snapped in two. It was often the little details that held the most weight. Marcus's first course of action would be to simply fuse the two halves back together. It would be a simple task no doubt. Heat up both parts in the fire, and weld them together. After that he would be able to add some thickness to the blade. Marcus walked both pieces to the fire and set both inside the flames using a large pair of tongs. He was sure to keep the hilt of the dagger out of the fire though, as the last thing he needed to do was ruin the hilt. He didn't want to have to craft a new hilt also. Once Marcus had each piece glowing a bright red, he quickly took them back to his anvil. With one hand he held the two pieces together where they he broken, and with the other, he lightly hammered one into the other, to add further force. It was a process Marcus would have to repeat several times before the blade was reforged. The repetitiveness of the forging process was simply the nature of smithing.