Another Voice: Shopkeeper

It was a bright day in Menenville, but one particular shop was dark, lit only by a single flickering lamp. Weapons were hung upon the walls and laid out on the shelves neatly, their gems and engravings shimmering in the dim and dancing light. Detailed suits of armor posed on stands, and the proprietor slouched against the counter, smoking his pipe. Business had been booming while the nobles felt threatened by the repeated robberies of their prized possessions, but the last one had happened over six months ago, and the daily stream of customers had gradually dwindled back to the trickle he was sadly accustomed to.

A figure, shrouded in a hooded cloak, chose that moment to walk in. The proprietor was a moderately skilled fighter – all the better to impress his customers! – good enough at least to evaluate a person by his, or in this case her, walk. Confident without strutting, so she probably knew her business well enough that his usual cheats probably wouldn't fool her.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try, and he knew tricks that no eye, however trained, could discern without extensive testing.

So he bowed low. "Good day to you, madam. How may I serve?"

"I wish to inspect your wares," she informed him.

"Certainly. May I know why? If I know what you're looking for I can help you find it without wasting your valuable time."

She pulled her hood back and gave him a piercing look. "I'm interested in anything you have that is magic."

"Magic?" Why was she using such an oddly generic term for-

"Yes," the woman said flatly. "I do not care if it is the 'noble' magic of the followers of Brimir, Easterling alchemy from Germania, the," here she smiled sardonically, "exotica from Rub' al Khali and beyond, or even the craftsmanship of the elves, if you have such. Magic, in any form."

"Ah. Madam is a discerning patron." He bowed once more, and hid a grin. "I believe I have just the thing!"

It took but a moment in the back and he had it. The sword that he brought back out was a classic Germanian zweihänder. The hilt was lavishly decorated with jewels, and the blade – nearly five feet long – was so polished and gleaming that it could be used as a mirror. "This sword, madam, was forged by Lord Shupei, famo-"

"I've heard of him," she interrupted.

"Then you know what his blades are capable of. And while this is but a lesser example from his earliest works, his alchemy ensures that the blade can cut through any metal like butter-"

"That sword has been treated with a mirror-finish potion and nothing else." She stated flatly. "If you don't have any true magic than this has been a waste of my time."

He tried to hide his flinch. How had she-

"She's seen right through you, you old fraud!"

This time he couldn't conceal his shudder. If that forsaken pile of rust weren't so useful for-

And now woman was looking in the corner where the voice had come from. "Who's there? I don't see anyone!"

"Are your eyes just for decoration, lady? Look again!"

The proprietor whimpered. "Derf, please calm down, she-"

The woman strode over to corner, piled high with weapons that had all seen hard wear and better days, and pulled out a thin and rusted arming sword. "Say something again, blade."

"Oh, no, you don't want him to get started-!"

"Shut up, you old fraud, the lady is talking to me now!" the sword boasted, one side of its hilt moving as if it were a mouth.

Her eyes grew intent. "What is your name, blade?"

"I am the great Derflinger! I have-"

"Indeed. Be quiet."

The proprietor's eyes bulged wide as the sword was, suddenly, as silent as she'd demanded.

The woman then made her way to the counter, rusty weapon in hand. "This is what I was seeking."

"Then, if you want to take that rude scrap of rust off my hands, it'll only be-"

"You will give it to me for free," she interrupted once more with a look as sharp as he like to claim for his fancied-up weapons, "and I will not send a letter to Lord Shupei describing how you polish ash-steel with cheap potions to pass off as his work."

"Y-yes, madam." If a rusty talking sword was all she wanted, then he could do without it. And better to get her out of his shop before she figured out any of his other little tricks!