Reads review. Wow, doing me a happiness.

Welp, building my people some more here.


Nicolas could not say what was it that had forced him into that shop. Only thing he knew was that there was a charm on him, some kind of sorcery that pulled him there, it was a soft hand that led him by the nose to the barrel full of blades. There was most anything inside, all crammed together in that small tube of wood and iron, he could see longswords that even slanting peeked out and reached his waist. There were curved and straight blades, some sported points that twisted into barbs or hooks and others were but a single line that glinted in the sun.

But there were two that caught his eyes, the rest were but ornaments that stressed the beauty of their simplicity. The first one was a big, single-edged knife, its blade flowed and turned into a squared grip that twisted upwards like a tail to become the guard.

There was an irony there that stood out for him, to use the same steel that would bleed the opposition to keep oneself from harm. It was a gripping idea for him, one that almost had him give the knife a test swing inside the shop, almost. And almost was too close by half for him, the thought of hurting someone for a moment of distraction saw him putting it hurriedly back in the barrel he had found it in and moving slightly away.

His mind saw it fit to let him look what he could have done and he shuddered at the thought.

"That's a Bohemian, if you interested in it,"

The man behind the counter he had ignored till that point spoke to him, his voice a soft thing that was sweet to the ears. So in disagreement with the rest of his body, a jaw that was sharp and solid as an ingot and a great many expression lines covered the rest of his face, almost hiding his black eyes. His hair was a mass of grey ropes that came done in a big knot at the back of his head, holding them from dropping below his waist by a smidgen. He could see the kind of problems you would run into if he didn't do his hair before going to the bathroom.

"I was just looking, didn't mean to take it up,"

"Didn't ask what you were doing, I am telling you what kind of blade it is. First thing a person should know about them,"

"Then, thank you,"

He commented awkwardly, didn't seem like the man cared much for what he had to say if the way he just kept to his work was any tell. Not once did he put down the knife he was sharpening while he spoke.

"Second thing is the size. A Bohemian blade is about sixty-five centimetres long to a common man, with your size it should be around eighty-five if you want to be able to grip it right,"

The man gave the blade a test, thumbed the edge from the point to the handle and allowed himself a small smile before looking up and letting it go.

"You can lift and give any blade here a try, won't charge you for that. So enjoy, maybe you will do more than looking if you try enough of them,"

"Could you tell me then what is the name of this kind of blade?"

He picked up the other one that had interested him with care, one hand in the grip and the other on the steel proper. He kept his fingers tight on both places, almost scared that his terrible fantasy would come alive, as he raised the short sword. It was similarly simple in design, straight and with a single edge, but had a cross guards and a wooden handle that was curved like the bend in a dog's leg.

"A Cleaver Knife, simple, effective, and just as cheap as the Bohemian you grabbed before. Again, you need it to be bigger,"

"Do you have any bigger?"

There was a strange something in his face when Nicolas asked him, as if he was happy he asked and annoyed he had.

"You won't find a shop around that doesn't sell for half giants like you two, too much money lost. Come I have the bigger blades at the back,"

"Let me just tell my sister,"

"I am a meter away from you, think I am deaf or something? Go and try not to buy anything till we have some money on us,"

Martina shooed him without looking away from the gun in her hands, she had opened the display to get to it and he wasn't sure the man's offer of grabbing what they wanted went that far. She was happy watching the drum spin round and round, making it click back in position with a flick of her wrist before testing the hammer. Making sure to never cock it all the way before releasing it nice and slow, least she was mindful when handling them, for all that was worth.

It was a good sign that the shopkeeper didn't bat an eye when he looked at her, he didn't seem to have many concerns past keeping his knives sharp and nice. If the way they were all perfectly lined up behind the counter was any tell, Nicolas counted eight at a glance when he moved to follow him through the thinning pieces of leather that were supposed to partition the front of the shop from the back.

There were three steps down that he covered in one stride having missed them, by some luck he managed to get his balance back and avoid crashing against the stone floor and giving the owner any reason to smile any wider. When he looked up after having cleared his throat and some of the shame, he saw a room lined with racks and shelves, the floor littered with stands that held arms and armour of every and all kinds.

There were perhaps enough blades and spikes and wood to start an army or if the need called arm every man, woman, and child living in Usato.

"Stop looking around, it's all just steel and wood without a thought. No love, no soul in them, just scrap for emergency or when money starts to dry,"

"It is a collection for me, can't see a piece of scrap around,"

"The trash of one is the treasure of another, I guess. Get here, this is where the short swords are,"

He was brought before a wall that had so many nails and screws driven into it that the cracks in the plaster had become but a great web of black racing from the shadows of one weapon to the next. As if every piece of steel was prey of a monster from myth or legend, like flies waiting for the spider to come.

"This is a Bohemian and a Cleaver for little giants like you. See the difference?"

And he was briskly handed both weapons, they were as long as his arms and he had to be careful not to let the point scrape against the ground as he pulled himself away from the owner and reached the middle of the room. He lifted them both and cut the air with one, then with the other, heard the whistle that came from the movement and wanted to test them on something. He wanted to cut, to use them as it was proper and see how much resistance wood would pose, how much resistance an animal would pose or a person.

His hands clenched on the grips, the leather shifting as he put more strength into them, trying hard to banish that thought. But the more he tried the more solidly it settled at the front of his mind, he had thought of testing the iron on someone. He had thought of harming just to test a tool, to test himself, it was wrong and revolting. The sickness was almost real as his gut twisted as he gave up the weapons and looked at the wall so full of them.

"Thank you for letting me try them, I am most grateful,"

"You don't look the part. Want me to call you a doctor?"

"No, I will be fine. Just got a bad feeling,"

"If you say so. Come back when you feel better and have the money, if you don't see me at the counter just ask for a package from Cafra,"

He gave Cafra a flaking smile that started to come undone as he walked away and was but a frown when he got to the front of the shop again, Martina must have seen the look on his face because she followed him outside. And when they found a place to sit down she stood staring firmly at him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Nothing my ass. You go in looking happy like a fat kid in a chocolate factory and you come out looking like someone killed your pet, so speak. What happened?"

"Nothing, Martina. Just a something I thought about that soured my mood,"

"Well, you thinking is a big thing. So speak because we aren't moving from here unless you do,"

"You want to bet?"

"I will twist your balls if that is what it takes to have you sing,"

"You wouldn't,"

"You said the same thing that time you found dad's health check, and you sang like Pavarotti,"

Wincing at that memory he remained seated and quiet, gnashing his teeth together. It was embarrassing for him to say it, to come out with his petty worries when they had worse to think about. When they had a voyage to think about. But in the end he spoke, unwillingly, because he knew they would waste more time just sitting there testing each other.

Thankfully she kept a straight face throughout, he didn't think he could unclamp his mouth if she were to laugh.

"I am worried about not staying a good person. Of shaming dad and mom after the length they went to teach us how to do right by others,"

"You fucking idiot,"

She spat the words with as much scorn as she possibly could, and that was something when she did it.

"You think that what we are can be changed so fucking easily? That you, stubborn and pig headed as you are, can change your ways so easily?"

Pausing to let the words sink in she looked ready to punch him right there and thought otherwise, she sighed instead and massaged the sides of her head.

"There is a saying for that, you know? The view itself of arms incites to their abuse, meaning that its up to us to reign ourselves in when we come across these thoughts. And look at you, think that someone that would act on such things would storm away about to cry because he thinks he will turn into a bad person?"

"No need to say it like that,"

"No? And how am I going to get it through that thick head of yours if I don't say it bluntly? Want me to be softer? How about this then,"

She pursed her lips mockingly, let her eyes slant as if she was about to cry and spoke in a high tone as if she was twelve and dumb.

"My big brother couldn't never ever become a mean bad guy, he is too nice for that. I believe in him,"

He let his face sink into his hands as she coughed from taking her pitch so high. God smite him if he didn't think it was a dumb thing to speak to her halfway through, but still there was something lighter in him after hearing her talk and that phrase had stuck to him. It was simple and true enough, it was something to live by and it was another ward to himself by.

"If you ever think you are turning into a bad guy tell me, I will beat the devil out of you,"

And he snorted at that strange way she had of comforting others.

"Maybe I will take you up on that,"

His head bent sideways and the sound of her slap ringed in his head as he looked up, eyes almost popping and teeth clenched. That was most certainly uncalled for.

"Thought I saw some evil there,"

He perished the thought of talking to the woman of his problems in the future, much less if she got her hands on those revolvers she clearly wanted. He didn't fancy getting pistol-whipped for using her as a psychologist.

They both waited for Itse at the park they had found, him frowning at everything after being smacked and her almost singing, her head dancing a small jig to show her good humour. Even when her sight irritated him he let his curiosity speak through the bile, he could still feel her fingers on his scalp.

"Where does the saying come from?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. Its from The Odyssey by Homer,"

"And why does he write that? Is he giving a lesson or something?"

"Nope, Odysseus tells Telemachus to give a speech about how having a sword while drunk can get someone killed. Its all a ruse so that the enemy gives up their weapons and make it easier to slit their throats,"

"Then what you told me means nothing then,"

"It's written by a Greek, you don't expect moral lessons from them just good phrases. I personally like Even a fool learns something once it hits him,"

Before he could put his thoughts in words about what she could do with that phrase, Itse arrived with a smile on her face a pep to her step as well as an army of children following close behind her. All of them had one treat or another on their hands and he wondered where the little girl to the right bought that humongous cookie she was nibbling on.

"Children, I want to present you my grandchildren. Grandchildren, this are you Nana's guests,"

And it was mayhem after that, both of them were assaulted by an onslaught of grubby hands and messy questions. Asking how he was so tall, how he tied his shoes, and if he used his shirt as a table cloth. At one point he started lifting them and throwing them up in the air much to their delight and Martina's distress, so he did what he could to throw them even higher.

They had lost track of time at some point and the children started complaining, kicking up a fuss that they were tired, rubbing their eyes and yawning after the sugar high settled down. Itse turned to them when her line of ducklings was all accounted for.

"Well then, we are going to be having a snack before heading back and starting on dinner. Is there anything you two want to eat?"

"We are grateful for the invitation but we will buy our things and head back, there are still some things we need to do,"

"You would leave these frail bones to care for these Sea Kings?"

"I am sorry Itse, but we must,"

"Fine then, but be sure not to get lost. And if you do just stay at one place and I will find you two when I go home,"

"We will try our best not to bother you with that,"

They said their goodbyes at the park, Itse and her grandchildren, that looked nothing like her, went towards the piers while they bought what they needed and headed back through the forest. Back where they knew there would be no one to see them train, see them use the Marine Powers. And he let himself chuckle at that, he was going to make sure Martina trained like her life was on the line.

That at least he promised, even if it was to get even a little.


Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)