"Where should we go first, eh, Celisanne?" Their father asked, halting in the town square. "Blacksmith, tanner, or stables?"
"The stables first, I think. I want to see how much weight my horse can bear before we start buying things, and we need a horse before we can get a saddle." Celisanne replied.
They crossed the square to the horse stables, and tied Lady outside the building. The three of them continued inside to see the horses.
"Ahoy, stable master, which ones are for sale?" asked her father.
"Well, any of them, except Slicker and Beauty, here. Call me over when you've got your eye on one," the stable master replied.
They split up and examined every horse for sale, looking inside mouths and under hooves, feeling snouts and estimating withers. Saeron settled on a beautiful dappled silver mare that looked as fast as the wind, while Celisanne chose a black stallion with the glossiest mane in the stable. Their father looked, and nodded, pleased with their choices. The stable master came over, chuckled, and began haggling with their father.
"My price is 200 tocs," said the tanner.
"Ah, that is 100 tocs too many," said their father.
"No, no, look at the horses, such fine horses."
"Alright, 110 tocs."
"150."
"120 tocs and 500 tacs."
~~~~~~Later~~~~
An hour later, they left the stable, their new horses in tow. Celisanne swung up and rode bareback, while Saeron winced and looked on.
They trooped across to the tanner's stall, where various leather items were on display, ranging from spittoons to halters, from leather underpants to coracles, complete with oars and a sail.
"Two sets of full tack, please, tanner," called their father.
"Coming right up," yelled the tanner, sweat beading on his forehead as he rushed around, gathering saddles and stirrups, reins and crops.
"Oh, no, we won't be needing crops," their father hastily said.
"Alright, then," said the tanner. He tried the saddles and halters on the horses, checking straps and buckles, then had Celisanne and Saeron get on their respective horses to adjust the stirrups and reins. "Well, that's all in order," he said. "Anything else?"
"Ah, yes, do you have any good sword belts?"
"Of course we do," the tanner puffed. "For you and your son?"
"For my daughter and my son," explained their father.
"But of course," demurred the tanner, grabbing two thick belts. "How will these do?"
Celisanne and Saeron tried them on, then nodded.
"Right, how much does that come to?" asked their father.
"About 2,000 tacs," replied the tanner, as he began haggling.
A half hour later, they finally came upon the blacksmith's tent. There they saw a burly man with arms the size of a fencepost hammering upon cherry-red steel and pumping the bellows energetically. When he had cooled his masterpiece in the barrel of water, they stepped up.
"Hello, could you shoe my two horses, here, and also, do you have any good Valyrian steel blades for us to see? I'm also interested in light steel shields," their father asked.
"Yeah, I'll do it. There's Valyrian steel on that wall over there. When you settle on a piece, yell for me and I'll take it down for you. I don't think I have any shields that would fit any of you, unless you're interested in custom metalwork." The blacksmith led Saeron's silver away first.
Saeron and Celisanne gazed at the weapons hung on the wall, all burnished bright and wickedly sharp.
"Look well, my children, and tell the good from the bad. This is true Valyrian steel, here, dark, but shining. It's lighter and harder, and it holds an edge better than any other steel. It has more strength and flexibility, too. They say the best Valyrian steel swords were forged in the breath of dragons, but they're all gone now. Both dragons and swords." Their father shook his head sadly. "Anyway, can you see the difference between Valyrian and normal steel?"
"Yes, Father," they replied.
"It's important that you take care of your sword, unless it's a magical sword. Probably isn't, though, aren't many of those around anymore. You know what to do?"
"Yes, Father, we know," they chorused.
"Well, go ahead and pick one, Celisanne," urged their father.
Celisanne scanned the swords displayed, her eyes roving over each hilt and blade. She selected a magnificent blue-tinged hand-and-a-half blade with double fullers running along it. There was a clear blue jewel set in the pommel, visible on both sides. The crossguard's arms were embossed with flowing patterns of swirls, and the black leather grip felt solid in her hand. The steel of the core of the blade made appealing ripples where it met with the harder steel of the edge. Its scabbard was of stiff leather and wood, and it fit perfectly on her hip. She tried drawing it a few times, then tried slinging it onto her back, the belt running over her shoulder and down her back. It fit loosely between her shoulder blades, so she tied it back around her waist.
"I like this one, Father," Celisanne said.
"Alright, I'll go pay the blacksmith, then. You two stay here and see if you need anything else." said their father.
"Hey, it matches mine," exclaimed Saeron. "Look!" He drew his sword, which was almost the same as hers, but his was set with a green stone, not blue.
"Oh, well I don't want it, then— oh, I'm kidding, Saeron. I'm sure it'll be wonderful to have matching swords," said Celisanne.
"Matched, just as we are, eh, sister?" commented Saeron, with a playful nudge of his hip.
Together, they turned to a large shield hanging on the wall, and looked at their reflections.
"Indeed, we do look like a matched pair of horses, fit to pull some fine lady's carriage, don't we," said Celisanne. "But I must say, we're more like a fine horse and a scrawny donkey, with you looking like that."
"Oh? I must be the noble steed, and you the lowly ass, then!" replied Saeron. "Just look at that horrid skin tone! What have you been doing, bathing in whitewash? You look like an albino donkey that's been locked up in the dark for 16 years!"
"And what have you been doing, bathing in carrot juice?" retorted Celisanne.
"You'll look like this, too, after you've been in the sun awhile. It's part of being an adventurer!"
"Oh, and I suppose you know all about adventuring?"
"More than you do, at least!"
"Stupid."
"Numbskull."
"Hey, what's that?" Celisanne suddenly said, pointing at the ceiling.
"Wha-OW!" Saeron punched her back, laughing helplessly.
~~~Some time later~~~
Celisanne and Saeron stood above a table full of knives and daggers. A target, painted sloppily in red and white rings, stood at the other end of the table. They examined the shining blades, each one sharp enough to cut a hair laid over it. There were concealing daggers, hunting knives, skinning knives, bodice daggers, knives that could be strapped to vambrace or cuisse, throwing knives, stiletto knives, and cooking knives.
"Wow, look at this," said Saeron, holding up a dagger with an interesting pattern on the blade. He tapped it with a fingernail. "That's solid steel right there, must be worth a pretty penny. And such fine craftsmanship, too!"
"A pretty penny indeed, lad. You have a good eye. I'll let you have it, though, and a blade for your sister, as your father has been a generous customer. May it serve you well, wherever your path may lead."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you very much!" said Saeron.
"I'll take... this one, if that's okay with you," said Celisanne, holding a bright steel dirk with a looping swirl coming up from the hilt and ending midway up the blade.
"Aye, that's Elven work, right there. I think the tramp who sold it to me said its name was Sting. It's rumored to glow blue in the presence of Orcs or Goblins, though I've never seen it at work. Seems like a handy trick, though. Use it well, lass." said the blacksmith.
"Thank you, sir. I shall." said Celisanne.
"Thank you for your presents, blacksmith. Your kindness will not be forgotten." said their father.
Saeron, Celisanne, and their father left the tent and mounted their horses.
"Last one home's a rotten egg," chortled their father, as he nudged old Lady into a canter.
They galloped off down the dirt roads, laughter echoing behind them, to their cottage in the green summer fields.