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Ozlo The Slow
Being Right

Being Right

Ozlo was right, he hated being right. Or at least he hated when he wasn't pleasantly surprised at least.

"Alright lad, the final touches are coming into place here. No need for more shards. Go get me that blue vial on the table there. The one that says Mithril."

Glad to be done filling the devices with shards, and glad that his work is almost done, Ozlo hastened to grab the vial and bring it to his master. "Here master Burgin."

"Thank you boy. Now that the blade is shaped and the mana has stabilized within the area I can apply this oil. Care to guess what it does?"

Ozlo racked his brain thinking on what he knew of Mithril, but other than the occasional fairy-tale or half muttered whisperings from the older orphans, he came up mostly blank. "Uh, maybe-"

"Hold that thought boy." Once again interrupting Ozlo, Burgin carefully removed the stopper from the vial and slowly applied a thin coating to the blade, making sure to get every exposed surface thoroughly. "And DONE!" Announcing that, Burgin slumped in his chair.

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"Oh right. The oil. It will seal well to the mithril, and it's made from a proprietary blend of shards and monster parts. This will help it any mana in, at least until the blade can be enchanted to do that all on it's own. But that's not my expertise. I just make the blades." Burgin sounded a bit sour towards the end there, but not wanting to cause any problems, Ozlo pointedly ignored it.

"Master? Are we done? Like, done done?" Ozlo inquired.

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah we are. Why, have somewhere to be?" Burgin eyed the young boy with a mischeivous twinkle in his eye. "Finally found yourself a sweet thing to dote on have you? Got some lady love to see without old Burgin cramping your style?"

Ozlo frantically shook his head and quickly dashed out of the room.

"Boy, BOY!" Unsure of what was wrong, Burgin sat quietly in front of the table. "Maybe I should have been a bit more tactful, if he does have some lass he's sweet on perhaps I should just pretend not to notice." Burgin thought on this and silently sipped the dregs of his cider. That is, until Ozlo returned, tightening his pants as he did.

Unable to contain himself, Burgin let out a quick bark of laughter. "HA! And here I thought I ran you off. Turns out nature calls." Ozlo, unsure of what transpired in his absence, returned to his seat and leaned back in his chair.