Well, if the sewers were out of the question, the Ratter decided that today might not be a bad day for shopping instead. While the market stalls in the main square were closed due to current events, it was unlikely that anyone was going to want to shop there, given the charred corpses of people having been burned at the stake, the gibbets filled to capacity with the corpses or soon-to-be corpses of criminals, and the headsmen's block with its slowly growing pile of heads from the beheadings. A trio of executioners was working in shifts to take care of that job. Someone had once said that justice cannot just be done, it must be seen to be done, and clearly, the Crows firmly believed in that statement. Every few minutes, a few Crows would arrive with someone else to add to the justice being done today.
From what the Ratter had heard regarding what had summoned the Crows here, it was clear that the criminals in question had brought it upon themselves when they'd murdered the Archduke and challenged the king's authority. The Dark Guilds had claimed that the city was theirs, and the king had mobilized a tremendous amount of manpower to say "No, it's not". Still, beheading the necromancers and then having them watch their bodies get burned to ash might be a little mean, since even beheaded, it takes necromancers several hours to die. Contrary to popular belief, a necromancer can't curse you after they've been beheaded, but the glares the severed heads were giving were still unnerving. Nothing can glare at you quite as impressively as the severed head of a necromancer. They've got nothing better to do with their time, after all.
Still, it was just as well that the stalls were closed, as her teacher had taught her that it was better to buy goods from a shop than from a market stall. A stall can be vacated immediately after the vendor has taken your money, so the "legendary" goods they sell can in reality sometimes be of exceptionally poor quality. Someone who owns a shop is intent on doing business for a long time, so they have to make sure they provide their clients with value for their money.
When asked, one of the headsmen had told her where she might find a good blacksmith and demonstrated the sharpness of the ax he'd obtained there. Even though it was covered in blood and had been in use for several hours, when he dropped a feather onto the blade, it was cleanly cut the moment it landed on the edge. The blue glow from the blade's edge clearly marked it was having been magically enhanced, but an enchantment that worked that well even after continuous use was an impressive accomplishment. In comparison, the other executioners were having to clean and sharpen their axes between every beheading to be able to sever heads with a single blow, and even then, as one unfortunate necromancer demonstrated, it wasn't always enough. Ignoring his screams as the headsman lined up for a second chop, she thanked the man for his assistance and then thanked all three for their continued service, and let them get on with their work.
Her teacher had also taught her that politeness costs you nothing, but rudeness was often expensive.
Along the way, she stopped at a tailor's shop for a new set of trousers. When asked, he'd immediately brought her a pair intended for boys her age. She considered asking for a girl's pair instead, then decided against it. It didn't really matter, so long as the pants fit. As she stored the pants into her knapsack, she considered the possibility that she may want to take steps to hide her gender in the future: Her teacher had taught her that, while unfair, it was the way of the world that female adventurers didn't receive the same amount of respect as men, despite being just as competent if not more so. In fact, this was the case in many vocations. While that was slowly changing, that kind of change took generations, and in her lifetime at least, it would be something she'd need to work around. The Ratter was androgynous enough right now that everyone either just assumed she was a boy or didn't care. However, puberty was already hitting her vertically, and if it started working horizontally like it had her mother, she'd have some very clear evidence in the next few years proclaiming her to be feminine. Anything that got in the way of her work needed to be dealt with, one way or the other. She made a note to herself to see about a proper helmet that concealed most, if not all, of her face, and to see about armor that would hide her figure, no matter how much figure she ended up getting.
She soon found her way to the smithy, the proprietor of which was pounding away at the forge. He was a dwarf, and like many dwarven smiths, his beard was short and neatly trimmed and had been recently doused with water. While many dwarves were well-known for their long and impressive beards, a smith had to be practical, and it was very easy for a long, poorly-kept beard to catch fire. While not young, the dwarf's black hair and beard had no trace of grey, meaning he was likely only two centuries old, if that. Of course, even a dwarven smith of that young age could outdo many human smiths effortlessly. It turns out that if you spend nearly two centuries doing something, you end up being pretty good at it.
After the dwarf quenched the blade, then studied his work to make sure he was satisfied, he set the sword blade he'd been forging aside, patted out any possible sparks on his apron, then turned to address the Ratter. "Thank ye fer yer patience, friend," the dwarf said with a nod. "I be Aren Doff, of the Doff family, of the Doff clan. How might I be of service to ye?"
Pulling out her guild badge and her poniard, the Ratter said, "I'm an adventurer, and I'm hoping to have some work done on my dagger, and maybe buy a short sword. My dagger has been with me for years, and I've done my best to take care of it, but it's probably long overdue for a sharpening. I used it yesterday on a giant rat, and I felt a little bit more resistance than normal."
Aren Doff nodded, then took a look at the dagger in question. After a moment, he flicked a finger against the blade and seemed to listen to the sound it made. "The blade's still sound, and the core's still solid. The edges and the point be needin' a good sharpenin'. I'll gladly throw that in for free with the purchase of a short sword. In fact, if you'd like, I can silver the blade for ye at a discount."
"No silver," the Ratter said immediately. Silver blades were fairly common for adventurers, but the Ratter had a problem on that front...
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
At the odd look the smith gave her, the Ratter cleared her throat and explained, "My family has an allergy to nickel, and it's pretty awful. My pa gave my ma a gold ring on her birthday. Just from the little bit of nickel in the gold, my ma's finger swelled so bad by the end of the day that the healer had to cut the whole finger off or she'd lose the hand. Unless you can do it with sterling silver, I'd have to say no to that."
The smith nodded, and said, "I understand, friend. It be a rare thing, but it happens. Had an uncle like tha', and it broke his poor heart to know that he couldna be a smith like his fathers before him. He ended up doing well enough as an ore merchant, though, so all's well that ends well. Still, 'tis a dangerous thing for an adventurer to be completely without a silver weapon. Ye may want to see about getting a spare blade with silver on it, just in case ye be needin' it."
The Ratter nodded. Supernatural creatures were rare in the sewers, but not completely unheard of, and it did pay to be prepared. "I'll see about getting one later. For now, a sharpening and a new shortsword would work if I can get an enchantment on both." While not as effective as silver, magical weapons could still do lasting harm to most supernatural enemies. She pulled out one of the gold coins her teacher had given her, and asked, "Will this be enough?"
Aren Doff smiled and said, "Plenty enough, friend. I've got a good selection of blades. Ye can have a look while I work yer dagger. I'll have the dagger done in a bit."
As the two stepped inside, the Ratter noted, "Your accent is a little inconsistent."
The smith laughed, then said in perfectly crisp, unaccented Common, "The customers always expect an accent. They don't feel you are a proper dwarf smith without it. My family has lived in this city for three generations, and I've never seen the inside of one of the great tunnel-cities, but my clients still expect me to talk like I've never seen daylight in my life."
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Aren Doff hadn't been kidding about his selection. His shop had all manner of weaponry available, in just about every conceivable style. She even saw a few katanas lining the walls. Her teacher had a poor opinion of such blades. He'd stated that while they're very pretty, and could cut remarkably well, they were also fragile and prone to wearing out very quickly, even with good enchantments on them. A weapon that has to be resharpened after every five opponents isn't a good choice for an adventurer. Worse, that fragility made them useless against an armored opponent: If a wooden club can shatter a sword, it's useless against plate armor. While there were plenty of legends about katanas that could cut through men, trees, and mountains in a single swing, those were weapons made by famed smiths and were either given enchantments by powerful wizards or direct blessings from the gods and were used by masters of the way of the blade, not amateurs who had never had a lesson in their life. They were the exceptions, not the rule. An adventurer's weapon had to be made to last however long the adventurer did, or the adventurer would only last as long as their weapon did.
After a few minutes of looking, the Ratter found a shortsword to her liking. It was a short, double-edged blade with a tapered point, meant as much for stabbing as cutting. The blade itself was only two feet long, but it felt good in her hand. It seemed perfectly balanced, and the edge certainly looked keen. Most importantly, and what had truly caught her eye, was that there were no decorations. There was no design upon the hilt or blade to make it look good while at the same time reducing its overall integrity. There was no gold or silver to catch the eye or glimmer and throw off its balance. It wasn't a fancy blade meant to sparkle and shine. This wasn't a symbol of heroism or justice. This wasn't the weapon that a legendary hero would use to slay dragons or conquer dungeons. This was what you had left when you pulled away all of the unnecessary parts of a sword, all the glitz and glimmer, all the myth and legend, all the symbolism and illusions. All you had left was a stark, uncompromising reality: This was a weapon and it was made to kill things. It needed nothing else other than what it had to do that job.
Someone had once said that perfection is not achieved when there's nothing left to add, but when there was nothing left to take away, and in that respect, this was the perfect sword.
When Aren Doff returned with her newly sharpened poniard, the smith looked over the sword and nodded with approval. "I can vouch for any weapon in this shop, friend," he stated, "but this is one of my best. I had some excellent steel when I was working that one, and I was feeling inspired while I was working it. When I presented it as a master's piece, it brought a tear to the eye of my mentor, even if it wasn't quite enough for me to advance to master. It's a shame most adventurers don't seem to know quality when they see it, but if you're needing a solid working-adventurer's blade, I doubt you can find one better in this shop, if not the whole city." With a sly grin, he added, "And since there's no fancywork on it, it's cheap enough I can throw in an all-in-one enchantment on both your dagger and your new sword, instead of just one to make them sharper."
"An 'all-in-one'?" the Ratter asked, confused.
As the smith began pulling a few items from behind his counter, he explained, "Well, most enchantments you see do just one thing, and depending on the weapon, it might not be what you need. After all, a mace doesn't need an enchantment to be sharp or to be lighter, since it is the force of the blow and the weight behind it that does the work. So, sharpness would be wasted money, and lightness would actually be detrimental. It's like why you see mythril used for single-edged blades since it is light and holds an edge well, but orichalcum for maces since it's hard and dense. A sword like this one, though, can benefit from just about every enchantment under the sun." Putting several scrolls on the counter, he added, "Featherweight, so you can swing it all day without tiring out your sword arm. Sharpness, so it can cut through things with little resistance. Durability, so it won't break or chip easily. Force, so when it doesn't cut, it still does plenty of damage. Plus, the standard 'Harm' enchantment, so it'll hurt supernatural beasts and make it hard for them to heal from the cut. An All-In-One won't make it as sharp as an enchantment meant solely for sharpness, or as durable as an enchantment meant only for durability, but all of them working together will make it overall a better sword than it would be with a single dedicated enchantment."
Nodding, the Ratter said, "That works for me." After a pause, she asked, "Is there anything you can do about the glow?" Magical swords always had to glow, it was part of what made them magical.
Chuckling, Aren Doff asked, "How bright you want it?"
"Dim," came her immediate reply. "As dim as possible. I don't need this thing giving me away if I have to use it in the dark."
Nodding seriously, the smith said, "That's fair if a bit unusual. I can't make the glow go away completely, but I can make it as dim as starlight on a moonless night. Will that work for you, friend?"
The Ratter nodded, saying, "That suits me right down to the ground."
Aren Doff chuckled, then said, "Excellent. And on that subject, when you're in the market for new armor, let me know. I'll be happy to provide it at a reasonable price."