The blacksmith smirked and said, “Well, you better come inside then.”

“Alright,” said Terry, happy to be making progress.

Terry and Kelima both started walking, but the blacksmith held up a hand.

“No strays in my smithy.”

“I am not a stray!” shouted Kelima.

The blacksmith ignored her and resumed walking. Terry howled with laughter as the noble girl stamped her foot. She seemed to realize that throwing a fit wasn’t going to do any good. Walking over to a big rock, she sat down in a huff of crossed arms and scowling. After he stepped inside, Terry tried to look around but was almost knocked by the…Terry tried to figure out what the thing was.

Hey, he said to other-Terry. What is that thing?

What does it look like?

It looks like a dire wolf, only less homicidal.

Other-Terry sighed and said, It doesn’t seem like you needed my help for that at all, now does it?

I was just wondering if it’s some kind sub-species or… Oh, never mind.

He resumed looking around the smithy and abruptly realized how futile it was. The only things he recognized at first glance were the anvils, of which there were several of various sizes, the hammers, and some vaguely tong-ish tools. From all the books he’d read, he knew there had to be a forge in here somewhere. He was a little embarrassed to realize that he’d never bothered to figure out what a forge actually was, let alone what it looked like or even what it did. He did eventually notice a part of one wall that had a heavy cover hanging down. He spotted some lumps beneath it that could have been weapons. The blacksmith cleared her throat. Terry turned his attention back to her. She lifted the letter.

“Do you know what this is?”

It felt like a trick question to him, so he shrugged and said, “A letter?”

She rolled her eyes and addressed him like she might a child.

“Why, yes! It is a letter! How very perceptive of you!”

He wanted to feel annoyed, but he also thought that he probably had that one coming.

“Okay, so not just a letter. In that case, no. I have no idea what it is. Analina handed it to me and told me to hand it to you. So, that’s what I did.”

“You didn’t peek inside?”

“You don’t do that kind of thing where I come from,” said Terry.

“And where is that?”

“Another world. Place called Earth.”

The blacksmith stared at him briefly before she said, “You’re serious.”

“Yep. I am part of the ranks of poor bastards dragged to this hell of yours from a very different place.”

The woman’s brow furrowed before she said, “Huh.”

Terry frowned at her. Based on the reactions of pretty much everyone else, most people weren’t that surprised by his status as a person from beyond their world or universe or whatever Chinese Period Drama hell actually was. However, this woman seemed a little perplexed, maybe even put off by that fact.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, hoping that he hadn’t wasted his time and endured Kelima’s incessant nattering for no good reason.

“What?” she asked, blinking at him a few times. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’ve never actually met anyone from another world before is all. You hear stories about it. You meet people who say they met an offworlder, but it wasn’t something I ever expected to happen to me.”

“Oh,” said Terry.

This was one of those times when he knew his shit social skills were screwing him over. He was certain that there were words that he should be saying, things that would get them back on track or maybe put her at ease. He just didn’t know what they were. Well, he thought, when in doubt, brute force it. He untied a coin purse and tossed it to the woman. She caught it, although it looked more like a reflex to him than a conscious decision. The blacksmith frowned at it before looking up at him again.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“I need a sword,” he said. “Well, actually, what I really need is two swords. But if all that can get me is one, I’ll take one. Something like this.”

He drew one of the jian at his hips and held it out for her to see. She dropped the bag of money onto a bench without even bothering to open it. Instead, she came over, looked at the sword, and flicked the blade with a finger. There was a metallic ting noise. The woman looked disgusted.

“That thing,” she said with disdain dripping from each syllable, “is trash.”

“I know it’s trash. You take what you can get when you secure weapons from the corpses of your dead enemies. The sad part is that this is a big step up from the things I was using at first.”

“You could get a sword that’s better than that from any decent smith.”

“I’ve come to realize that I don’t need a sword. I need one that was made for me.”

The blacksmith tilted her head a little to one side and asked, “Why?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up fighting a small army of monsters soon. I don’t know exactly what kind of gear they have, but they were wearing armor. I don’t want to have my sword breaking in the middle of something like that,” he said and then clarified. “It’s happened before.”

The blacksmith went back over to a bench and picked up the letter again. She looked almost angry about it. She spun on him and thrust the letter out like an accusation. She shook it.

“You really don’t know what this is?”

Terry let an exasperated noise escape him before he said, “No. I don’t know what it is. Why? Does it matter?”

Instead of answering his question, the blacksmith muttered, “Damn that woman.”

“There is clearly something going on here that I don’t know about. I asked Analina who I should go to. She said you were the best. All I want is a sword. I’m willing to pay for it. If you don’t want to do business with me, I’ll respect that and leave.”

“I’m the best, huh?” said the irritated blacksmith.

“Are you not the best?”

“Of course, I’m the best,” snapped the woman. “That’s not the point.”

“Well, what is the point?”

“The point is that Analina is cheating.”

Terry blinked a few times. Cheating? He had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean.

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” admitted Terry.

“She’s my sister,” said the blacksmith. “And she knows that the Adventurer’s Guild has an agreement with me. They provide me with hard-to-acquire materials. In exchange, I agreed to make a fixed number of superior-quality weapons for them each year. She’s calling that marker in to get you a weapon.”

“Okay. I guess I can see how that’s a little—” he paused, unsure what an appropriate next word in that sentence would be. “Well, it’s definitely something.”

“It’s cheating! She shouldn’t even be able to get one of these letters!”

Terry realized that he’d stepped into the middle of some manner of sibling squabble that he didn’t even have the faintest chance of understanding. What he did know was that he didn’t want to drown in those stormy waters.

“I see,” he said. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

Then, he walked over to the counter, picked up his money, and started heading for the door. Escape was the best option after that little revelation. At this point, he just wanted to get away from their little family feud. Just let me go, he thought. Just let me walk on out of here. It’s what you want. It’s what I want. Everyone will be happier. He noticed the dire wolf sprawled near one of the biggest anvils, watching him with a curious expression on its face. Terry couldn’t shake the feeling that the dire wolf understood this situation far better than it should. It wasn’t anything tangible, just a spark of intelligence in its eyes that reminded him a little of Dusk. He was about to step outside when a voice filled with what sounded like infinite weariness called after him.

“Stop.”

Fuck, he thought as his shoulders slumped. He turned to look at the blacksmith and made a final bid to elude what was sure to be a web of familiar dysfunction and a source of endless ass pain for him. He already had a source of endless ass paint sitting outside. He didn’t require another.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Truly. I’m sure I can find someone else to make a perfectly adequate sword.”

She snorted and a little life seemed to bleed back into her face.

“Adequate. Yeah, that’s exactly what you’ll get. Adequate. That’s why I can’t stand other smiths. What a pitiful thing to strive for. Adequacy. They should be striving for genius. No. No! What should be striving for is damned transcendence!”

Terry could see the fanatical conviction burning in her, and now he knew why she lived where she did.

I like her, said other-Terry. She’s got spunk!

I hate you so much, thought Terry.

What? She does have spunk.

No. What she has is crazy eyes.

Tomato. To-mah-to.

“I’ll make you your swords,” said the blacksmith. “But if what you want is the best, the very best, I’ll need you to get me something.”

Terry felt his heart seize as he realized the trope trap he’d so nonchalantly walked face-first into. He’d been sent to a reclusive smith in the dark and scary woods and even picked up a sidekick along the way. It had been so obvious, and he’d missed it. Of course, of fucking course, she was going to send him on a goddamn fetch quest. And the bitch of it was, he did want the best swords he could get. Far behind that in importance but not altogether trivial was his desire to get through at least one social interaction in this world without making a blood enemy for life. The next words out of his mouth felt the spiritual equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.

“What do you need?”

“Orichalcum.”

“Yeah,” said Terry, and his voice was the one that suddenly sounded infinitely weary. “Yeah, I probably should have known that. Let me guess. It’s in some hard-to-access place and guarded by some stupidly powerful monster.”

The blacksmith looked at him in surprise and asked, “How did you know?”

“Because anything else would have been proof that God does not, in fact, hate me.”