Even loaded down with equipment, James made the journey back to his grandfather's house in near record time. There was no hiding his excitement, as he walked along the path of green markers. When he arrived, he walked past the two hatches that led into his and his grandfather's beds, heading instead to the small shed like building a hundred feet away. After removing the lock with his key, he deposited his new equipment just inside the door. There were stacks of crates inside, all marked as extremely dangerous. Most held dynamite, while a few held things his grandfather wanted kept safe, like his supply of bourbon. Closing and re-locking the door, he headed back to his familiar hatch, pulling it open before he dropped in. Landing on his bed, amidst a heavy fog of tobacco smoke, he went to a seated position across from his, now snoring loudly, grandfather. 

His grandfather was still in an upright, seated position, a lit pipe in one hand and an empty glass in the other. The half empty bottle of bourbon told the story of what had happened. Just a normal day off for his grandfather. Also on the table was a map. The map showed the local salvage area and all registered claims in the area. Most were small numbered blocks or long skinny lines. Right in the middle was a large nearly square chunk, with his grandfather's name written in the middle. Like the last tooth in an old man's mouth, there was a squared off off-shoot to the southern end. This was circled repeatedly and a handwritten James was in the center of it. 

Knowing that his grandfather had already cut out a bit of his claim for him made James' chest feel warm. It was small, maybe a half mile square, but it was also untouched. That was a very kind thing for his grandfather to do. He could easily have given him a claim that was already half picked over, or one of the areas where they had excavated all the generator cores from. But, instead, he had given him virgin territory. James' smile was so wide, his face hurt. He did not know how to show this old man how much he appreciated this. Overt displays of affection just made them both uncomfortable. Instead, he resolved to be the kind of man that his grandfather could always be proud of. He would live well, the way his grandfather taught him. He made this promise to himself in all seriousness, knowing it would mean hard decisions in the future. 

While James was staring at the table, thinking hard on his future, his grandfather woke with a snort. "Gah! Boy, I did not realize you were back already." His pipe moved to the corner of his mouth, to be chewed on since the tobacco had gone out. "I told you that I would have some things for you, when you got back. You already found the first." A nod to the map showed his meaning. "But there is more you will need."

James nodded his head, expecting a lecture. What he did not expect, was his grandfather retrieving a long bundle of cotton rags and laying it across the table. It was nearly four feet long, from end to end and around eight inches at the widest point. "What is that grandfather? I have never seen it before."

"That is because we have had a peaceful life, since you came here. However, you may not have the same in the future. And so, I pass you this, so that you can defend yourself and those that need your help." Unwrapping the bundle revealed a long, beautiful sword. It was plain, no embellishments or jewels, just the blade and cross-guard with a rounded pommel at the bottom. The whole thing seemed to be made from a single piece of metal. The blade shined, showing it had been carefully tended. But, it was the dark blue and rippling tint to the metal that took his breath away. 

Mithril!

He sat there, open-mouthed, for a while. He simply stared at the sword. When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from it, they landed on his grandfather, who wore a knowing grin. Before he could form the words he needed, his grandfather held up a hand. "Before you go and refuse, know that this is one of a set of twins. I am keeping the other for myself. You could easily take this blade inland and sell it, buy yourself a big farm and live out your days comfortably." He slid the blade across the table. "Or, you can live a hard life, with this blade at your hip and work for every penny you have, knowing that if you must you can at least go down swinging."

It was not even a choice for James. The thought of living out his days on a farm had some slight appeal. But, nothing drew him more than a sense of adventure. And salvage was an adventure every day. Reaching forward, he reverently took the sword. "Thank you, grandfather. I will cherish this for the rest of my days. And, if need be, use it as you would." Bowing his head, he had to swallow hard to get the lump out of his throat. With his head down, he did not notice his grandfather wiping away a tear. 

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Hearing his grandfather clear his throat, James looked up. "What profession did you choose, anyway?"

The implication was clear. His grandfather had meant to give him this, regardless of what he chose. Even if he had chosen to go against his wishes and join the military, his grandfather accepted him. This time he could not stop the slow flow of tears as he bent his head again. He could sense his grandfather shuffling uncomfortably at the show of emotion. "Salvage," The word was choked out slowly, but it came. 

He could hear the gentle smile in his grandfather's voice when he replied. "Would you change your mind, knowing what you do now?" James could only shake his head, in the negative. "Then I am doubly proud of you, James."

The use of his name shocked him so much he looked directly at his grandfather, stupefied. He simply scratched his cheek and looked away, embarrassed. "Well, you're a man now, so I cannot keep callin' ya boy, can I?" This brought the smile back to James' face. 

"If it is alright, I would like to keep calling you grandfather. Switching to your given name would feel... weird." This made his grandfather smile again as well. 

"Of course, James. I will always be your grandfather. And I am here for you, if you ever need me." James nodded his head and looked back at the sword before propping it against the table. Looking back, he saw his grandfather was pulling out a few more bundles. "The last few things I want to give you are important as well. These two bundles," he indicated two of the larger bundles, "are books. Most are simple stories, written to entertain. But, some hold knowledge that only a fool would snub his nose at."

Pushing the bundles across the table, he grabbed a pack from beneath the table and tossed that to him as well. It was a sturdy leather pack, with two shoulder straps and a set of straps to tie around his middle. He loaded both bundles of books inside for now. "These last two items are different. The first," he grabbed a small leather sack, which jingled as he picked it up, "your share of the earnings, from the years you helped me. I took out a small bourbon tax, for teaching you the trade, of course."

He tossed the bag to James, who caught it deftly. It was heavy, heavier than the purse he got that morning for choosing. He immediately squirreled it away, in his bag. It would be rude to count it now, after all. His eyes finally fell on the last package. His grandfather regarded the package as well, for a long moment, seeming to be deep in thought. Finally, without looking up, he began to speak. 

"James, you have known me most of your life. You have learned who I am, as a man. You have known a salvage tech, who is brusque and grumpy. A drinking man, that smokes more than is healthy and lives for two things. His work and watching his grandson grow into a man to be proud of. It is true that I am this man. However," he laid his hand on the final, small bundle, "I am also this man. This is a journal I kept as a younger man. I recorded my thoughts, feelings and life in this journal. I stopped, shortly after I arrived here. I give you this, so that you can learn from my mistakes. I also want you to learn that a man does not need to be as one sided as he seems. The world is not black and white. In these pages, you will learn that the world is colored in shades of grey. 

"I thought about keeping this from you, as I do not want to change the way you think of me. However, I decided that would be wrong. You deserve to know the truth about who I am, and by extension, who you are. No man can truly be his own man until he understands where he came from. I leave you to form your own conclusions from this. I have put this life behind me." With that, he slid the final bundle across the table and nodded to James, who took it with care and placed it gently in his pack. "Now, how about a drink with your grandfather and we have dinner together one more time? It is too late to get started today anyway. What do you say?"

James readily agreed and the rest of the evening was spent drinking, eating and telling stories about the townsfolk that they had met over the years. There was a lot of laughter and they stayed up like that until very late that night. Even so, they were both awake and drinking coffee before the sun came up. They both had work to do today, and so they parted with a quick hug after breakfast. James headed toward his claim, wearing one of his new vests and carrying the rest of his equipment in the pack his grandfather had given him. On his hip was the sword he had been given, resting in a well-worn but good quality leather scabbard his grandfather gave him that morning. When he had buckled it on, he felt like a true adventurer. The weight of it on his hip was comforting as he walked toward his future.