Sama was waiting for him to show; he’d told her there’d be no problem at all identifying when he arrived.
They’d actually never met in person. He had picked out the Sword he’d wanted and all the specs at a Smith located nearby him, who had also taken his personal measurements so that she could size it appropriately to his grip, reach, and height.
Still, he was right. That silken white convertible with the blood-red interior did indeed stand out.
She watched him get out of the car in an immaculate white suit, whose wrinkles he promptly straightened out with a Cantrip, and he popped a white top hat with a blood-red band on top of his curly black hair, to match his red tie and kerchief.
Yes, he was definitely a character.
Sama left off her current commission, taking the initiative to grab his Sword and go up to meet him.
He came into the place fearlessly, clearly not expecting any trouble, and glanced around with the fast threat assessment of a pro. She watched him, the white-wrapped hilt of his Blade in its white scabbard, decorated with red crosses, laying on the counter before her.
He glanced at her Brand and nodded. “You must be Sama Rantha. I am The Mick.”
He didn’t have much of a brogue, but it was there underneath the dangerous charm, so he could probably turn it on really thick if he liked to. His eyes were dark and had seen a lot of killing, and his smile had the sincerity of a hunting shark. He was shorter than her, but a little wider in the shoulder, and definitely in the arms and chest. He moved with a controlled grace, as if he was going to take off and fly at any moment, which promised that he’d probably be a very energetic formal dancer. She didn’t know how he’d do with any of the metal moves, but he could certainly feel free to surprise her...
“That would be me. You’re right, you’re hard to miss.” She imagined all that white could vanish like a ghost if he so wanted it to.
“You’ve got what I asked for?” he inquired, his eyes naturally falling to the Katana waiting on the counter in front of her.
“Pay up,” Sama said simply. “Sixteen goldweight, as requested.”
He looked even happier. “And this can be opened to six Slots?” he asked carefully, taking off his hat, and tapping it over the counter.
There were multiple clunks and clatters as eighty craft-coins worth 100 gp each poured out of his hat onto the counter. Sama counted them with a glance, and nodded.
“QL 33. You weren’t paying for adamant, so I went with the heaviest I could. This is a variant of tungsten and osmium alloy, partially Energized to Water affinity.” She pushed the Blade in his direction as she smoothly stacked up the craft-coins, waving to one of the apprentices to take them and stash them elsewhere.
The young dwarf hurried up, scooped them off the counter, and hustled off without batting an eye at carrying nearly two and a half million dollars worth of cc’s. Master Vrune worked in big numbers, too.
Money came, money went. It was how it was.
“Let’s hear the spiel,” he smiled, picking it up, and breaking into a broad grin as he felt the weight of the thing.
She lifted an eyebrow, and obliged. “You’ve got in your hands a Full-temp Heavy Katana in the dai-katana pattern, thirty-three inches of blade, single cutting edge and runneled backer for parrying. Floral rose guard pattern as requested, weighing in at 4.3 kg. You need literally inhuman strength and decent heavyfoot to wield it well, both of which you assured me you have.
“The Full Temper refers to the basic Runes of Blood, Reed, and Stone on the Blade, leaving off the Feather as unnecessary. You’ll need to Blood-bond it to attune yourself to it properly. The Sword has been made to QL 33, a Perfect Weapon, which means it should be an ideal Blade in all respects for its original wielder, you.
“Also as requested, you desired a full Empowerment of two Slots, and you chose Ki-Bound and Blooding from among those I offered you.
“I can sense you’ve some floating ki to use, but you won’t be able to do so until you satisfy the Bond on the Blade. Please draw and do so now.”
He glanced at her, for she hadn’t described the secondary effect, which was, in the end, the reason he’d done business with her. He hadn’t found anyone else who could offer an effect like it.
Still, he pulled on it, and as the very heavy steel whispered out of the scabbard, itself made at 30, his dark eyebrows began to climb.
If Blooding was the first non-standard enhancement to a weapon, it automatically colored the material of the weapon white, and the killing surfaces red. That this milk-and-blood motif, looking so slick and pure, fit so well with his theme, Sama truly found amusing.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He pulled it fully out, holding it in one hand without an issue, his black eyes now bubbling with some crimson in there.
“You looked me up!” he challenged her, affronted and impressed all at once.
“Not at all,” Sama refuted calmly, smiling toothily. “That is the natural appearance of a Blooding blade at its origin. If you had added it later, after something like, oh, Flaming, it would have just looked like normal steel.”
“Well, then, a fine, FINE coincidence it was!” he crowed, snapping up into high guard. He reversed away from her, testing the balance as he shifted smoothly to various stances.
“Blooding is an enhancement primarily designed to foil magical healing from both spells and those intrinsic to creatures. While it won’t interfere with natural, non-magical healing in the slightest, wounds inflicted by a Blooding Weapon will not fast-heal, regenerate, or be healed by magic until the following dawn. Such effects will only stop any bleeding or pain, but won’t actually heal an existing injury.
“The effect is Curse-based and can be removed with effects that remove Curses. Also, it won’t actually kill something that can regenerate... but it can totally incapacitate it and render it unable to move about or recover until the dawn, giving you time to dispose of it by other means, or run away, as needed.”
“So, it won’t kill a vampire, but they can’t heal from the wounds until morning, so they can’t even revert to mist and flee for their coffins if slain properly, right?” he asked for confirmation.
“Exactly. Now, you could chop a troll all to bits, and if you can’t find some fire or acid, it’s just gonna get up at dawn all pissed at you.” She inclined her head slightly. “I didn’t know you were Blooded. That is an ideal Weapon for Blood Clan, mmm, competitive disagreements.”
He flashed a white smile. “Aye, that be by design. I am an enforcer for the Fuilcroi family, out of Detroit. There’s always some uppity folk of the Clans happy to discuss territory with one another, you know?”
“Never been involved in Blood politics, but I imagine the Clans in Chicago and Pittsburgh don’t make it easy for you.”
His smile grew rather ivory-hard. “Aye, that’s where all the fun comes from.”
Sama nodded understanding. “Let’s go out back. There’s a circle for testing weapons there; you can get a good workout.”
“As the lady wishes.” He bowed smoothly, his hat not moving an inch, as Sama slid over the counter and led the way outside and around to the back of the building. She was absolutely sure his eyes didn’t get above her waist as she did so...
-------
“That’s Yagyu Shinkage Ryu, right?” Sama asked, frowning as the Mick swirled through several forms, and paused after a flurry of cutting strokes.
“You know Japanese sword styles? I’m impressed!” he answered, glancing at her.
“Good swordsmen are students of all arts,” she replied. “But... the classic Japanese schools are technical schools, foundations, not Profound schools. They don’t have a good inner power style, and their technique is, well, basic. I was expecting you to be using one of the Water-based Profound styles.”
The Mick put up his new sword formally, turning to face her. “Those styles are all chi-based, and the Blooded who can use chi don’t really have a lot of empathy with Water, such as it is,” he informed Sama grimly, who just nodded.
“Aye, you’re tied to Blood, one way or another... but that’s actually built on a foundation of Water, so as long as you’re keeping to basic forms and fundamental power, you’re actually fine.
“I don’t have any knowledge of true Blood-oriented stuff, as the martial arts related to Blood manipulation are universally reviled, and used by people who are equally reviled. While it’s true that most arts can be used by both good and bad men, the Blood-centered profound arts require harvesting a lot of blood actively... they are styles for active gore and carnage, and it’s not something you can avoid by visiting a blood bank.”
He nodded with a sigh, clearly intrigued that she knew all that. “Aye. I’ve done a lot of looking into the Sanguine Styles, as they are called, and I could not find a one of them that dinnae leave the practitioner a demented reaver, and thus soon dead.”
“The Sanguine styles are an unhealthy combination of Water, Life, and Death, coming together to have bloodthirsty children. However, the physical foundation of Blood is Water. You can learn and employ basic Water styles without a problem.”
He ruminated over that a moment. “Do you know some styles I might pursue, then?”
Sama rolled her eyes. “There’s tons of them. Infinite Waters, Rivers and Springs, the Flood Dragon Salute, Endless Tides, Eight Teardrops, the Rain of the Seasons... blah blah blah.” She waved them away. “I generally use the Ocean Dragon, Flowing Water swordplay, Where the River meets the Sea.”
“That is definitely poetic enough to be a Profound style,” he observed with a straight face.
“Now, I use straight sword instead of saber, but Water is ideal for a curved blade, you just need to focus more on the Sea than the River.” Tremble shot out to Sama’s hand as she got up, and the long blade flowed out to full length, the precision of its make and design, and the power humming in it, stamping at the Mick’s eyeballs. He pursed his lips in outright envy upon seeing it.
“Also, you need to Name your Blade when you Bind it,” Sama warned him, waving him to one of the stumps for seats.
“I do?” he asked.
“Can’t feed and grow your Blade without doing so, you know.”
He blinked. “What’s this, now?”
She held up a finger. “First, you watch and assess. If this looks like a style you can adapt to your own, I have no qualms about teaching it to you. A devoted swordsman is hard to find in this day and age, and I want that Blade to have a good owner.
“I’m going to focus on the Sea forms, so this is going to concentrate more on the slashing and slicing stuff. I’ll finish up with the River, which is lunges and thrusts. Watch now, and assess.”
The Mick took a seat on the stump he’d laid the scabbard of his new Sword on, wondering what to call it, and then dismissing the stray thoughts as he focused on the young woman who had made said Weapon, and was now taking up a very proper stance in the middle of the circle he had just been in.
He noticed the sands rippling around her feet, and the way she was standing an inch off the ground. That was some very smooth lightfoot there... and then she began to move, and he couldn’t really concentrate on anything else but her two-toning Sword after that...