“You can trip on a log and land on a skinning knife in any forest in the United Regions. They’re as rare as a wiener between two buns at Sunday school. You don’t come here just for a skinning knife,” said Stump.

Walker twirled the curved tool around his fingers. The carbon steel blade was a touch over three inches and the polished handle was about the same. The man named Stump, pronounced shtump, battled five foot five in both height and, inexplicably, in width. His hair had receded inward to leave a tuft of red hair pointing straight up.

“I could’ve just heard about the quality of your knives,” Walker defended.

Stump wagged his finger, “Only thing I’m known for is for retaining the record for the largest amount of blue cheese consumed in one setting. My business is referral only,” He stomped past Walker to Sonya who leaned against an anvil.

Stump pulled out a small dagger-shaped in a T and tapped her chin with it playfully, “Do you want to tell me ‘ole Stumpy?”

Sonya glanced at Walker stone-faced, “We’re low on members, thought you could use the business.”

Stump stood on his tip toes which Walker wouldn’t have thought possible due to the cube law. He broke his leering and measured Walker up and down. “The rumors are true then,” Stump cackled, his fat jiggled ceremoniously.

“Stump…” Sonya said, her words as sharp as the knife Walker held.

He just waved her off and hopped past Walker, “What are you really looking for Adam Walker? And don’t you say that wimpy butter knife or I’ll skin ya?”

Walker followed Stump and joined him in front of a wall that glittered chrome. Like the rest of the forge, the wall was cluttered. Blades of all kinds hung from the wall. Many hung from two nails that coddled the hilt, others magnetically clung to a metal strip, and a few appeared to have been stabbed straight into the wood planks and hung by determination alone.

“You’re right, I want something more. I just don’t know what,” he eyed a goliath of a blade at least a foot long and a half long that curved at the tip.

Stump laughed, “Yer lyin. What do you want, self-defense? Sport?” he leaned in, “Somethin’ else?”

Walker turned nervously to look at Sonya. Saying he wasn’t looking for a bit of guidance would have been a lie. She simply looked at him with a curious expression.

“I’ve been getting in some sticky situations. I’d like to not be completely helpless.”

Stump pulled out a tape measurer out of one of the dozens of sagging pockets that covered his attire. The kind that when you pressed the button it would snap back into the device with a satisfying shink.

“It’s always self-defense,” Stump muttered. turned him around and instructed him to raise his arms, “Bigger than, or the same size as a human? Any experience with daggers?”

“Dagger?” Walker asked.

Stump stroked the patch of hair on his soot-covered head, “Knives usually have one sharp edge, meant for slicing. A tool. Dagger usually has two edges, meant to kill.”

Stump retracted the measuring tape, “Eighty point four inches, you’re a goddamn monkey.”

“To kill,” Walker repeated, not as much an answer, but a simple repetition of the end of his sentence.

“Yes. Besides a bullet, a knife will get the job done. Can’t do much against a knife without losing an arm or two in the process,” Stump reached his left hand in front of Walker, but only the pinky, pointer finger, and thumb remained.

“Is that why you’re called Stump?”

Stump frowned, “Eh?”

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Walker glanced at Sonya who’d covered her face with her hands, “That’s… not why you’re…”

Stump dropped his arm “Oh, me hand. That was a genetic disorder, mighty insensitive of yah.”

Walker waved his arms in front of him, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Me name’s Robert Stumpleton. Stump for short.”

Walker wallowed in silence.

Stump roared in laughter and slapped Walker so hard on the back he cracked his back. “I’m messin’ with ya. Me ex-wife took my ring finger, diabetes took me middle.”

Walker chuckled along with him; his laughter was a contagion that couldn’t be contained.

“I knew nobody could be called Stumpleton,” Walker choked out between laughs.

Stump stopped and furrowed his brows, “That’s actually me name.”

Walker chuckled again, waiting for Stump to reveal the joke again, but he was met with silence.

“Let’s pick out yer dagger,” he turned to the wall, “You didn’t answer. Meant for bigger than a man? What are ya prioritizing?”

Walker thought about it. Out of what he faced one had been bigger than him, and others had been smaller. Quicker. Though something deep in him told another reason. He smothered it back.

“Something I could count on, big and small. Easy to keep on me though.”

Stump pulled on his hair again, it reminded Walker of someone pulling a tissue out of a tissue box, “Concealable, eh? Go to the dummy.”

Walker spun to complete the task.

“Not me,” Sonya said as she pointed to the figure in the corner of the wall of knives.

Similar to a boxing dummy, it was constructed of polyester, and about five foot ten. It was clothed head to toe in thin, but durable-looking, garb. Stump stomped toward him carrying a box of different blades pulled from the wall.

Stump pulled out the first dagger, similar to the one he pulled on Sonya. A short blade with a “T” handle. “Push dagger. Easily concealable. Used with a closed fist. Good for the agile.”

He motioned Walker to try it out on the dummy and he did so. Walker placed himself in what he thought was a boxing stance, palmed it to his left, and threw two quick jabs at the dummy.

“Think about how it feels. What ya like. Most important,” Stump instructed before pulling out another dagger.

“Scottish dirk. Everyday blade.”

It was simple, what you imagined a dagger would look like.

“Bollock dagger. Backup to the lance. Thin.”

The guard sported two oval perturbances that resembled testes. A rather phallic weapon.

“Cinquedea. Five-fingered width below the handguard. Heavy weapon, use the wide blade, not the point.”

Walker found this weapon to be elegant, like it could be displayed in a home rather than slicing flesh. The guard was a crescent pointed on either side. The blade itself was the most triangular of the bunch.

Stump worked him through several more. The Seax, the largest dagger of the bunch. A behemoth blade that resembled a sword. An all-rounder. Reliable.

The Bagh Nakh. It fit around the knuckles, similar to brass knuckles, with four bear-claw-like knives protruding out of each knuckle. Made for slashing through the muscle.

The Trench Knife is a hardy knife with a hardy plastic handle that held four circles designed for you to push your fingers through and grip the knife. Close quarters combat, if you dropped the knife you died. He couldn’t drop the knife even though he let tried.

The Jambiyas. The ornamental blade. Short and curved. The most beautiful.

The Kalis. Unique. A double-edged filipino sword. The guard flowed into the blade artistically. It exhibited a wavy section near the base of the blade that caused the dagger to lean off to one side. Made for slashing and stabbing.

Stump pulled out the last item, “The Stiletto Dagger. Meant for stabbing, not slashing or cutting. Easily concealed, can pierce through heavy clothing. An assassin’s favorite.”

Walker took it in hand, it was long and slender. Light. He took the stance that Stump had repeatedly corrected him on and lunged. The dagger penetrated the material and plunged into the heart of the dummy.

“Looked natural. How did she feel?”

Walker slid the blade out as naturally as can be, “Like an extension of my arm,” He murmured.

“Looks like we got the one.”

Stump informed him of the price and Walker paid him in full and some extra. All cash. Sonya instructed him specifically on that detail. He wiped the dagger down, placed her in a concealable sheath, and handed it to him.

“Remember. A dagger is like a woman, treat her nice and she’ll treat you the same. Beat the shit out of her and she’ll walk out when you most need her. Happy knife, happy life.”

“Thanks for the help. Haven’t ever had such personal salesmanship in a while,” Walker complimented.

Stump eyed Sonya who had been uncharacteristically silent, “Of course. We will see more of each other, I’m sure.”

They walked out of the shop into the refreshingly cool air. The cool atmosphere didn’t last long as she led him into the building, which she called the Church.

“You alright? You didn’t say much back there,” Walker asked.

Sonya studied his face as if she was searching for something. When they met eyes, she clenched her jaw and stared ahead. They had stopped in front of two archaic double doors.

“Fine. Before we go I gotta talk to someone. Wait here five minutes,” She said before pushing through the doors with a terse knock.