"Yay, we're done!" Pratty let out a jubilant cheer as she raised her new weapon high in the air, proudly gleaming in the artificial light of her workshop. She had spent more than six hours forging herself a new weapon since returning from the Labyrinth with her share of the materials. And now she had finally managed to bring it to fruition. "The Sharp Dagger is complete!"
The size of the weapon itself was on the larger end of what could be considered the norm for a dagger, with the blade itself being around 10 inches and with a width of 4 inches that tapered as it reached the point. It was longer and thicker than her Novice Knife by a good margin, enough that she was sure it would be a bit unwieldy if not for the composition of the blade being majority Wind Ore. But it should be a little more durable and have an easier time cutting through the stray summons on the Fifth Floor and below. "All that's left is to get a sheath for it from Master."
Heading out the door of her workshop with her Guardian Beast following behind, she merrily skipped down the stairs onto the First Floor of the Silver Guild and made for Bron's office. The door was already open, so she poked her head inside. "Master Bron, I'm done with my new blade. Can I have a sheath for it?"
The burly Silver Master looked up from his desk, which was overflowing with paperwork, with half-lidded eyes as she held up the weapon in question. Then he nodded before rising from his seat and marching over to a storage cabinet. He looked around inside for a moment before letting out a grunt. "Blast it, I musta left the sheath case on tha ship!"
She craned her head at that while Bron reached over to a rack on the wall and grabbed a set of keys. He then gave them a light toss in her direction, and she barely managed to catch it with her free hand. "What's this for?"
"Ah'm busy, and you'll be headin' ta the docks ta take Kutty for a night walk anyway. Rather than ya sneakin' onboard this time, use that and head into the forge room ta grab the black case that's about as long as ya are. Bring it back 'ere before curfew."
The girl felt slightly called out about her bad deed but acknowledged the order. Thus, she grabbed her shoes before she made her way out of the Silver Guild with Kutty. The two then set out to the docks of Wystern under the veil of the night.
It's not as quiet as Vance, but it's still relaxing at this time of night, Pratty thought to herself. Wystern might slow down once the sun set beyond the horizon, but it didn't fall into the same slumber that Vance did.
The cape town had been stunningly beautiful after night fell on their first visit. Snow lightly fell from the vast darkness as the pale moon shone overhead with an almost dazzling luster. The ground beneath their feet was blanketed in white to the point where she almost likened it to walking on a cloud.
The warm lights from the distant windows scattered about had gently pushed back the darkness into soft shadows, adding to the ambiance by promising that a raven blanket would drape the landscape once the hearth fires burned out and the inhabitants went to rest. The stone buildings and evergreens seemed to shoulder the snow, adding a white cap to the grey and green. And from the chimneys, they could pick up a variety of strong scents that came from families sharing their meals and stories.
In contrast to the land of green and white, Wystern was the land of steel and water. The stone-laden path was solid and unyielding, Pratty's soles echoing as she strode beneath the streetlights along the way. The solidarity was reassuring in contrast to the softness of the snow, and the water in the canal reflected the artificial lights to make it seem like she was striding along a sea of stars.
The main path was without the throngs of moving bodies that normally navigated it and the winding waterways, but to call it completely abandoned was incorrect. There were still others who lingered once the sun fell, not driven to seek shelter because of the biting cold that nipped at their fingertips like in Vance. Just ahead of them, she could make out a single Official from the Tower heading towards a residential home, where a boy emerged from the doorway and jumped into his waiting arms with unbound delight in his voice at the mention of curry carrying on the wind.
The Market Plaza itself had several people still there once they passed by the home and moved further on. Some couples seemed joined at the hip in the way that Pratty imagined most would find romantic beneath the water fountain. Others were going from stall to stall to catch whatever sales they could or grab a bite to eat from the vendors before they closed late at night. She could even make out a group of older Craftknights making their way towards a tavern, weapons still mending themselves from a Labyrinth dive.
Pratty and Kutty continued north beyond the plaza and made their way toward the docks. Since the ships rarely came in overnight due to strays becoming more active in the ocean, most of the workers had gone home by now. That made it among the quietest places in Wystern, which was part of the reason they liked to walk there and relax before curfew…
Hence why a sharp sound carried so easily in the night breeze over the gentle waves as they made their way to Bron's ship. "Did you hear something, Kutty?"
The Magical Beast bobbed his head and then turned his attention over to the right, pointing a gloved hand in that direction. "Ku."
Pratty decided to find the source of it as her curiosity got the best of her. Her steps took her further down the docks, towards where the larger ships were stationed. These were the ones that were meant to import and export on a larger scale, so the shipping crates and containers grew in number and height to the point of becoming slightly maze-like, as if erected as an artificial boundary separating them from the smaller vessels.
As she grew closer, she recognized the sound. It was the ringing of metal slamming against metal. Not of the forge but of combat, a sound that was foreign in this part of Wystern and even more alluring for it. Her fingers tightened around the dagger on habit, a conditioned response after spending time in the Labyrinth, and she kept to the shadows as she reached a section of stacked shipping containers that stood between herself and the source of the clashing steel.
Then she peered around the corner and was caught by surprise for the second time that night. Isn't that Sanary?
Sparks and rain bloomed amidst the violent crossing of blades, giving birth to a flash that illuminated the contrasting visages of the combatants as they repelled one another with a spray of water leaving the ground beneath them glistening wet.
One of them was easily recognizable as Sanary. The red-haired swordswoman was dripping wet from head to waist, patches of her clothes soaked and the sides of her hair clinging to her face. She sported a fierce expression unlike any that Pratty had seen before.
And standing opposite her was a golden-haired boy that she had never seen before. He was high and dry, sporting fine clothes of white and blue with a black undershirt visible. His blue eyes were furled in amusement, and his cocksure smile rubbed Pratty the wrong way as he brandished what was probably one of the most ornate spears that she had ever seen.
The head was golden and three-pronged, the central blade being larger than the two to the side that had a batwing-like design. It was anchored onto a long grey shaft that had streaks of gold banded around it to mark off the rear and center areas of it. But the most striking feature was the socket where the head and haft were made one, as the metal there seemed to be crystalline blue with churning water roiling within it without end.
Gleaming gold speared towards Sanary in a piercing thrust that would run through her forehead. It was intercepted by argent steel that struck up from below, driving it up and over her head as she lowered her stance in the same motion. Water sprayed out on the impact and rained down over her as she charged forward with her blade chambered at her side, the edges of which were chipped and battered, preparing to cut him in half at the waist.
But the moment that her foot stepped onto the glistening stone, it shifted. Just enough that she had to plant her other foot and deviate her weight to regain stability before she made her horizontal slash. And in that time, her opponent had already made his move.
He twisted his body using his waist, bracing the haft under his arm in the process. The hard shaft scythed around, batting away the edge of the Iron Saber while driving into her unprotected upper body. The impact was enough to repel her charge entirely, knocking her back while he drove the tip of the central blade toward her as a follow-up attack.
Sanary parried the stabbing motion with the flat of her weapon, bracing it a bit above the center. It scraped down the side of the central spearhead before braking where it met the wing even as a gout of water slammed into her. The force of it was hard enough that her legs strained to remain rigid, sliding back across the stone surface despite her best effort.
The unknown boy slid his rear leg forward, pushing into her guard as he swept the backside of the spear up from below in a pendulum motion. The butt of the staff hammered into her blade that had angled itself in a desperate attempt to protect its wielder—
SNAP!
—and the steel itself broke. Her blade snapped into two halves with small shards scattering in the process, and there was nothing left to protect her as he spun around and shot the tip of the spear at her unprotected chest once more.
Sanary was only spared from being pierced by her mana hardening to its limit and rebuking the golden point as it tried to break through her ribcage and pierce her heart. But from the tip came another blast of water that knocked the older girl off her feet and sent her flying violently into the broadside of a shipping container, the metal itself buckled beneath her backside.
"Ghhh…" A strangled moan escaped the swordswoman's mouth as she collapsed onto the ground, her body entirely soaking wet as her Iron Saber clattered next to her. The light shrouding her faded away, scattering into motes that drifted into the wind and spelled her defeat. Even so, she strained and pushed herself upright onto her feet…
Only for the point of the golden spear, riddled with nicks and battle damage that would patch itself, to be leveled mere inches from her face before she could.
The unknown boy hovered over Sanary with his weapon in hand. His proud smile had grown wider, no doubt born from standing over a defeated foe and looking down on them. Even his voice was dripping with superiority as he said, "Is that the best you've got?"
Sanary answered him with a stern glare in lieu of words.
"I entertained your challenge since you had set the record for the fastest victory prior to me," he continued, taking her silence in stride. "Your swordsmanship is passable, I suppose, but your weapon was nothing special to break so easily."
Pratty got the feeling he was trying to provoke her into attacking him in a rage. With her mana depleted, that would end badly. But to her surprise, Sanary didn't blow up.
She instead exhaled deeply before speaking in a calm tone, "That's why I want my swords back. They aren't good enough to be sold."
He took her admission as a cue to nod. "Well, after that performance I can understand why you're so ashamed of them that you'd want them back. But I believe the terms of the duel were that you would only get them back if you bested me."
Getting back her swords? Pratty's mind slowly started to piece together things. Oh, she must have been one of the people who got tricked. So, the fight must have been her trying to get them back.
"…Well, as your better, I suppose I can be a bit generous," said the boy after a pause to revel in his victory. "I might be willing to reconsider the terms if you admit you now know your place as our inferiors."
Sanary bristled.
"Admit that you and the Silver Guild itself are beneath the Gold Guild," he reiterated. "If you do that, I'll gladly give you back the swords as a reward for your honesty. I'll even let you keep the boam we gave out of the goodness of my heart."
Her fingers scraped the ground as they curled into clenched fists.
"I don't believe I'm asking for much," he continued, shouldering his spear to show how little of a threat he considered her at the moment. "All you have to do is say those words before Nigelle gets back with them, and no one will ever know. We do pride ourselves on discretion when it comes to our suppliers after all, even the lesser talented ones… or are you willing to let those weapons go to market when you know they're no good to save face?"
"Kuuu…" Kutty snarled softly at the boy in distaste. And Pratty immediately knew why despite not being able to understand him verbally. He was the Guardian Beast of a Craftlord after all, which meant that he shared the same pride in their practice as any true Craftknight.
The same went for Sanary, whose pride and dignity as a Craftknight were something that defined her every time Pratty had seen her. Even now she clung to it while drenching wet and on the ground, holding her head high even as she was forced to look up to him. Even if it was just the two of them as far as they knew, to admit that would shatter her even if he kept his word to give back the weapons.
And from that cocksure smile he wore, he knew that as well when he asked her. "Well, what's it going to be?"
Pratty decided she had seen enough as she broke from cover, weapon in hand. "That's enough!"
The look that blossomed on Sanary face was a mixture of surprise and shame, though it was short-lived as the moment the boy turned to face the newcomer, she used that chance to get back to her feet and demanded, "Why are you here!?"
"I heard the fighting all the way back on the ship," Pratty said, keeping her eyes on the boy whose expression gave off the impression that she had just spoiled his fun. It made her madder considering he was playing with someone's pride and their reputation. "And you, give Sanary back her swords!"
"Stay out of it," he said. "This has nothing to do with you."
"It does when you're insulting one of my guildmates and hurting our reputation as Craftknights!" Pratty shot back. "How dare you make fun of someone because she won't sink to your level!"
"Sink to my level?" Pure disdain laced his voice as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you have any idea who I am, peasant?"
She, in fact, did not. "A nasty runt who lies to people to get them to sell their weapons and then tries to make fun of them when they demand them back?"
His brows twitched. "I am Varil, the current holder for the fastest victory in the tournament and the son of the Gold Master. As the best Craftknight of the largest Guild in Wystern, what right do you have to call me a runt?"
If anything, hearing that only made her more upset. "If you're really a candidate for becoming a Craftlord, you of all people should know how important our reputation is! Yet all you care about is money, even at the cost of other people. If that's what your father taught you, then it's no wonder Master Bron calls him nothing but a gold-grubber!"
"Take back what you said, this instant!" Varil's composure broke as he raised his voice and leveled his spear toward her. It seemed she had pressed a button. "My father is a great man!"
Pratty leveled her dagger at him in turn. "Make me!"
[-|-|-|-]
There were no words to quantify the roiling slurry of negative emotions within Sanary's chest at that moment that Pratty appeared.
The older girl was soaking wet. Her clothes clung to her burning flesh with hair practically glued to her face that was turning red. It was humiliating to be seen in such a state given she had tried to make up for her mistake rather than letting it go.
She had spent hours trying to track down her swords and when they would be shipped, filled with determination to get them back. And when it came down to it her blade had broken right when she needed it the most. More proof that her skills in forging were insufficient enough that she had to resort to asking nicely rather than spanking the brat where he stood with her bare hands.
Even worse than that was how condescending Varil was throughout the entire fight. It wasn't that he was better than her in combat. He was decent enough that she would consider him a threat, but the only reason she lost (and the reason he was so arrogant) was just because he got his hands on a Mystic Ore weapon.
From their battle it was clear it was specialized towards offensive use, designed to force the water that stormed within it through the spearhead in a manner that put it under enough pressure that it felt like she was being struck by a hammer even with her protective veil up. That made its thrust more dangerous since there was nothing to dilute the amount of force flying at her. Even blocking it caused so much pressure on her weapon that it reached its limit faster than expected.
The best way to get around that for a swordsman would be mobility, to take advantage of the fact that polearms were better off at a distance by maneuvering around them. Once you managed to get past the threat zone and close the distance, a sword or dagger would make finishing them easier. However, all the water being thrown around made getting solid footing so hard that she couldn't help but slip—something he took advantage of given those shoes he was wearing were meant to prevent slipping.
Not that knowing the reasons that she lost changed the fact that she had been reduced to a spectator as Pratty issued her challenge, the younger girl's mana weaving itself around her body to form invisible armor in preparation for combat.
Sanary wanted to speak up. To fight. To tell the girl to leave this to her. But to let another chance to get those weapons slip away wasn't something she could do. Not when someone could get hurt because one of her weapons wasn't good enough.
"If that's what you want then fine…" Varil's words were brimming with fury. "I'll make you take back what you said by force!"
He took on a combat stance, left leg back while he supported himself on his right foot that was forward. It was a spear stance that you would associate with a throw, if not for the fact that he kept the tip of his weapon angled low. He also maintained a stranglehold just beneath the neck of it with his dominant hand rather than pulling it back, as if bracing it.
Sanary felt a chill run up her spine as light pooled into the socket of the spearhead, where the water churning beneath the surface seemed to intensify. She knew what he was doing. The words of warning couldn't escape her mouth fast enough. "Don't let him finish charging!"
The girl didn't seem to understand what he was doing, but the warning did stir her into moving. She rushed towards him to close the distance before he could finish. Or at least she tried before one step on the glistening wet ground caused her balance to falter and she had to reorient herself, leaving her to freeze in her tracks eight meters away as glaring light washed over her.
"TAKE THIS!" The boy in white thrust the spear forward with all his might. It was a full-body stabbing motion designed to aim straight for the girl's chest eight meters away, launching a churning, luminous lance of water from the head of the spear right toward her.
The attack flew so fast that Sanary's eyes couldn't track it between the moment it burst free and the moment it ruptured upon hitting a solid mass. The churning waves held together by the mana of the attack came undone, sending it spraying everywhere. She was forced to shield her eyes as water soaked her anew, leaving her only able to call out in concern. "Pratty, are you okay!?"
"I'm fine," Pratty answered back, sitting on the ground next to where she had been standing with her Guardian Beast atop her. He must've thrown himself against her to knock her out of the way right before the attack connected, leaving it to continue behind her where the storage containers were stacked. There was a large indent from where the attack had slammed into the metal broadside, having nearly caved it in with a cannonball-like force.
The girl and beast then turned their attention to Varil lunging at them with his golden spear. Pratty threw her legs over her left shoulder in a roll as Kutty hopped off her chest, splitting the two apart as the sharpened point of the tip pierced the stone where her she had been. The momentum of her roll carried her back onto her feet in time for her to see the golden streak scything around from below towards her neck.
Her right hand came up, and she rebuked the scythe aiming for her neck with her new dagger. However, water sprayed out and slammed into her with enough force that it forced her back to stumble back. "It's cold!?"
"Let's see how well you do without your beast to save you!" Varil spun around, shifting his grip in the process. He then swung the flat of the spear into the floating beast like a hammer instead, hitting his arm as it came up to guard. Kutty withstood the initial blow well, but the spout of water that followed sent his small body tumbling through the air and away from his Master.
Sanary traced his path as he was sent spinning in the air in her direction and caught him before he could hit the ground. Considering how his head was circling around and he was letting out an elongated and soft whine, she assumed that he was dizzy from the tumble rather than seriously hurt. She then turned her attention back to Pratty during her battle.
The younger girl was in a perilous spot as she was forced to avoid a skewering thrust to her chest by twisting her upper body. At the same time, the edge of her blade came up and struck the neck of the spear beneath the socket to deflect it. She seemed to have realized just how disadvantageous her situation was given her eyes were furled with steely focus.
Her new weapon was longer than her previous one, so that offered her a little more range. But it was still shorter than a normal longsword, whereas her opponent could strike her from at least two meters away. If she could slip past the head of his spear then she would have the advantage, but the unstable footing made movement difficult.
Water wasn't as damaging as Lightning or Fire, but it made the battlefield unfavorable and the impact of the water bursting out from so close was like being hit with a hammer against your skin-tight defense. Pratty was attempting to avoid connecting with it as much as possible to avoid getting caught by it. But that only played to his advantage since it put her on the defensive, which could only last so long.
A fact he capitalized on as he made a circular motion with the rear of the shaft, causing the head of the spear to circle towards her temple. She caught the motion in the corner of her eyes and reflexively brought her dagger up to block it. Water came out and obstructed her vision just long enough for him to thrust forward once more. "Know your place!"
The stab caught Pratty in the chest, followed by a jettison of water hammering into her point-blank. Her smaller body was sent flying back into the rear section of the storage containers, hitting it hard enough that the metal dented. Her mana hardened in response, her damp body flashing as she slid down the impacted surface and was barely able to keep herself on her feet. "Ow!"
"Where is your arrogance now?" Varil demanded as he began to pool light within his weapon once more to finish her off. "For all your talk, you don't hold a candle to me!"
Pratty glared at him—no, his weapon for a moment. Then her Summonite shone radiantly in response. "Kutty, Enchant Wind!"
Hearing her voice seemed to snap the Magical Beast to his senses as he clapped his cheeks before giving her a thumbs up. "Kutty!"
The night air stirred around the blade as it shone with a teal light, becoming a sheath of spiraling viridian wind once more. Pratty then ran the edge of the blade against the ground in his direction, releasing a portion of the wind. It became a zephyr that threatened to sweep the boy away if he didn't brace the rear of the spear against the ground behind him.
Pratty kicked off the ground and rushed him down, the teal-shrouded blade chambered to slash at him. For a moment, Sanary thought she was being foolish considering how slippery the ground was. But then she noticed that the straight path was dry and realized that maneuver just now wasn't meant to be a distraction or blow him away. It was meant to get rid of the water soaking the path, unable to cling to the solid surface under the turbulent winds.
Realizing he was in danger, Varil hastily kicked the end of the shaft up so that the head of his spear was facing forward and tightened his grasp to release his ultimate attack. But the girl put all her strength into an upwards swing that caught it on the edge of its broad wings, and the wind sheath unfurled. The thunderous force of the unraveling gale knocked it towards the sky where Sanary could make out the countless fissures threading golden spearhead as the water burst free and lanced towards the moon.
"You should pay more attention to your weapon next time," Pratty said as she slipped past the new opening to stab him up close. The best he could do to stop her blade from piercing into his stomach was hastily bring up the center of the shaft as an impromptu shield. But all that did was unleash the remaining fury of a raging wind upon it before the gale barreled past and sent him sailing back through the air as the sound of metal shattering filled the air.
Varil landed flat on his back, body flickering in a warning of how badly he'd been stricken. He gritted his teeth and looked ready to continue the fight until he noticed the shards of his spear landed around him. "My weapon… broke…?"
"It was already beaten up from the last fight," Pratty said, lowering her weapon now that her enchantment had petered out and he was disarmed. "But once you used that weird attack, I noticed it had been cracking. And every time you hit me or something else, it got worse and worse."
"That's impossible!" He rose to his feet, refusing to be forced to look up at someone else. "That weapon was made with Mystic Ore!"
"And that's why you didn't notice until it was too late," Sanary said as she made her way between them now that the battle was over. "You never imagined it would break against an ordinary weapon because it was made of Mystic Ore. The thing is, Mystic Ore enhances a weapon but it's still reliant on the forging skill of the Craftknight themselves."
The spear had been designed to let the water come out in highly pressurized bursts, likely from pathways inside. But the thing about that was it placed a lot of internal stress pressure on the inside. She picked up a shard of the broken weapon and looked at the inside of it before scoffing. "Yeah, even if Pratty hadn't done that a weapon this poorly made could never survive a second Charged Attack."
"A what now?" asked Pratty as she readjusted her helmet due to her Guardian Beast deciding to land on her head.
"What he tried to use against you," Sanary clarified. She wasn't surprised the girl didn't know about it considering she didn't have much experience despite her parentage. "It's an advanced combat technique Craftknights use to take advantage of the fact that our weapons can naturally accumulate mana. And in the case of a Mystic Ore weapon, it can empower the predominant element for a stronger effect."
Wysternian weapons could repair themselves because they could gather, accumulate, and make use of mana through their elemental ores. But there was always the question of what if one needed to deliver a powerful strike to break through an enemy's defenses when there was no magic available? The answer that previous generations of Craftknights came up with was techniques that allowed them to direct the mana already accumulated within their weapons so that they could unleash a powerful offense in lieu of magic.
Piercing thrusts that could cut across vast distances. Swift swings that could slice the air. Powerful strokes that could cleave the earth. Intensifying rotations that could bore into thick steel. Mighty blows that could pummel solid stone. For every type of weapon, there was a technique to be unleashed.
"However, there's a catch," she continued. "Using a Charged Attack basically puts a lot of stress on the weapon from the inside out, even more so than regular use. That kind of strain means that a weapon with a larger grain structure has no chance of being able to handle without fracturing on the inside."
She held up the end of her broken weapon to show in comparison to his. Her Iron Saber wasn't remarkable by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew every step of the process to the point of perfection. More importantly, she knew its limits and how much abuse it could take.
In contrast, while his weapon was powerful due to being composed of Mystic Ore the design ill-suited it and the construction was subpar. The grain structure was elongated and rugged, snapping due to multiple points where it had simply been unable to handle the constant pressure. The definition of second-rate work with premium materials.
"That's why using a Charged Attack isn't something taught to most apprentices anymore," Sanary finished, tossing the broken shard of the spearhead at his feet. "They would get overconfident and try to use it in the Labyrinth when their weapons aren't capable of handling it... such a waste of a Mystic Ore."
He glared in turn. "You're just jealous because I could afford one, peasant."
"You've got a lot of cheek for an entitled brat," Sanary snapped back, crossing her arms. "I had been thinking it since her previous opponent, but you folks in the Gold Guild probably never earned your Mystic Ore personally. No wonder you lost to Pratty in the end."
The Gold Guild was wealthy enough that they could afford them without any issue from independent Craftknights who were willing to sell any they found because they couldn't use them or didn't need to. The fact that the large fellow's weapon hadn't been made of Mystic Ore indicated that probably not everyone got it. If she had to guess it was probably for their more competent fighters like Omugi or this brat, who could make up for the difference in forging skills with their combat skills.
Varil scoffed. "That just means the weapon wasn't good enough to keep up with me in the end."
Pratty's brows furled. "But you made it that way with your own hands, right?"
The only answer he had for her was silence.
"Don't bother with him, Pratty," Sanary said. "He's the sort of person who is perfectly fine with going around swinging a crappy spear made of materials he didn't earn, while having the audacity to call us inferior trying to salvage our reputation that his guild was willing to ruin, only to whine when he loses that the weapon was at fault. As he is now, he can't even be considered a Craftknight as far as I'm concerned."
She hadn't forgotten about earlier how he tried to lord himself above her when it was only because of his weapon that she had lost. Or how he tried to step on her pride and dignity. Really, she was tempted to spank him like the sassy brat he was, but she wouldn't lower herself to his level at this point.
"Master Varil!"
The voice of the gold-tongued snake that had gone slithering off before their match had started reached her ears. Seeing he had her swords, Sanary marched over to the pompously dressed man. "I'm taking back my swords."
"We had a business trans—" he began.
"Just give her the blasted swords," Varil said through gritted teeth. "They aren't worth anything anyway."
The man looked reluctant but ultimately did so. "Very well."
Sanary snatched her weapons back before shoving the pouch he'd given her back into his hands. It was still full since she hadn't spent a single coin of their dirty money. "Here's what you gave me since I'm not a thief. But considering what I've seen of you two, you'll probably use it to buy honor and dignity rather than earn it like the rest of us. That's how you operate in the Gold Guild, isn't it?"
That said she grabbed Pratty's hand and pulled her away from the pair without looking back. The night was growing colder, and she was soaking wet. She wanted nothing more than to get back to the Silver Guild and put the entirety of what happened behind her as a mistake that she had to learn from.
But first, she owed someone her gratitude.
"Thank you for helping me deal with that brat," she said, coming to a stop next to Pratty once they were a good distance away. "Honestly, I should have had Rasho help me since I was up against an opponent with a weapon like that. But he was already apprehensive when I wanted to make the swords in the first place, so the thought of him knowing was too much for me to deal with."
The moment she had decided to fix her mistake thanks to Welf's advice, she should have also resolved to call Rasho out to help her if it meant getting her weapons back. But the Oni Prince already had a low opinion of her in the first place compared to her sister. She had wanted to resolve the incident herself and bury it with as few people as possible knowing.
"Oh, it was no problem," Pratty said with a smile. "We're part of the same guild, so we should look out for each other. And I really didn't like him making fun of people trying to make up for their mistakes or insulting us all by doing something he knew was wrong just because he could. But what will you do with them now?"
"Convert them back into as many of the ores as I can and then focus on making that new one Master Bron gave me the instructions for," was her answer. Now that she didn't have this weight on her mind, she could dedicate the entirety of her focus to making a more capable weapon. One that she could be proud of and capable of keeping up with the challenges ahead of her. "We'll be receiving notifications for our next tournament opponent tomorrow after all, so I don't have much time to waste."
"Oh, right." Pratty scratched her cheek in thought for a moment. "...I wonder who we'll be matched up against?"
Sanary shrugged. "That's for the Craftlords to decide... anyway, didn't you need to be doing something at Master Bron's boat? That's why you were out here in the first place, right?"
It seemed to have slipped her mind considering the surprised face she made. "Oh right, the sheaths! I need to take them back to our guild for Master Bron."
Sanary offered to lend her a hand since they were headed back together.
It was the least can do for now.
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The Kitchen was abuzz with the clinking of cutlery once morning came around. The Silver Guild apprentices were enjoying their breakfast collectively, with the first meal of the day being courtesy of Welf. Since today was a big day, he decided to add a little more of a kick to his usual preference for hearty foods. Something to give them the energy to get through the day.
"ish dis bread 'pecual?" asked Razzy in the midst of chewing a mouthful of bread that had been toasted in the oven. The youngest of their group had her hair unbound since she hadn't wrapped it up in a scarf, revealing it to be bushy and wild. "Ish shueet~"
"Don't speak with your mouth full, Razzy," Trish lightly chastised her from the seat next to her, hair kept in a bun at the moment and dressed in a modest nightgown. Even so, she was holding her own slice and peering at a darker spot within the mildly crispy surface. "But yes, it is sweet. Did you add something to the bread while it was being baked?"
The red-headed smith nodded. "In Vance, I tasted some of these toasted breadsticks that were sweet on the inside from a stand while getting the cargo from the ship ready to be unloaded in the morning. The vendor mentioned using syrup, but I decided to try it with honey since we had some."
"You ate something like that without us?" Pratty looked aghast while sitting next to him. Kutty was nestled in her lap, nibbling cutely on one of the slices while dropping crumbs onto her lap that would have to be swept up later. "The betrayal—I thought we were friends?"
"It's not my fault you and Razzy slept in an hour later than Master Bron and me," he said while casually passing another of the honeyed slices over to her plate before turning his attention back to Trish. "It's not too hot or sweet for you, is it?"
"Not at all," the polite girl answered. "I might try my hand at it at some point. Perhaps with a mixture of butter. That way it could be soaked into it a lot easier while being toasted… Oh, and if cut it into bite-sized cubes and let it dry they might make a nice snack for when we're in the Labyrinth."
"…My teeth ache just thinking about how sweet that'd be," Ariel said, grimacing at the very thought. It seemed Caizo shared similar tastes in food as they had opted to avoid trying the honeyed toast. She was content with eating boiled eggs that had been sliced into halves and a fillet of fish that had been baked, with only a slight spread of condiments to give it a slightly tangy flavor.
"Hmm… I think I might give it a try," Mariel said sitting next to her as she used a knife to cut her own honeyed toast into bite-sized portions to get a feel for what it'd be like. She had also chosen to have a portion of the eggs that had been scrambled for herself, though she shared her sister's choice in having fish as the meat of the morning.
Sanary herself also seemed to not be thrilled at the prospect of something that sweet, having taken a seat next to Welf at the end of the table. Her plate also had scrambled eggs, but she had chosen to eat some of the sausages that had been among the foods brought back from Vance rather than fish. Even so, the red-headed smith had noticed she seemed to be in a more positive mood given she had made small talk and greeted both him and Pratty with a smile.
Both girls had come in slightly wet last night, with Sanary stating that she had slipped into the waterways and Pratty helped her out. Considering that she looked like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and the bundle of weapons she hurried to take to her room, he suspected otherwise. But it wasn't his place to say anything—if things worked out then that was all that mattered.
Red eyes shifted from her plate over to him before Sanary gave him a slight pout. "Is there something on my face?"
"Nothing at all," he said before turning his attention towards Caizo and Trish. "So, are you two fine with the arrangements for today? All your supplies checked and ready?"
Trish nodded. "Yep, all ready."
"Sorry for the imposition," Caizo added. "We'll hurry as best we can to not delay you or the others."
"What arrangements?" Sanary asked, head slightly tilted as she looked between the three of them. The twins themselves also looked curious, while Pratty and Razzy seemed to focus on their meals.
"I'll be helping Trish and Caizo gather enough materials on the first few floors so they can finish their new weapons from Master Bron," he explained. "Pratty and Razzy are also willing to help them push down to the Sixth Floor to unlock the Teleporter once they do, so we'll be busy the next two days."
She seemed pensive in thought before she simply said, "The Teleporter is on the left path when you leave the entrance. If you're familiar with the Fifth Floor strays then you should know what to expect, but don't stretch yourselves too far."
"We'll be fine," Pratty said, looking down at her partner. "Right, Kutty?"
The Magical Beast nodded and gave her a thumbs up. "Kuu!"
As breakfast wound down and they prepared to have the dishes cleaned before they went about their day, the door opened. With a boisterous voice, the Silver Master announced, "Notices for yer matches are here! Come an' get 'em!"
The apprentices stopped what they were doing, wiping their hands clean before they approached the towering figure, who handed out the envelopes to them one after another. They were plain white envelopes that had the guild seal stamped onto them. Welf had been among the last to receive his and opened it calmly.
"It seems like my opponent is someone called Kenon from the Gold Guild," he said, before looking over towards Pratty. He noticed that her eyes were softly furled in a manner that didn't suit her while Kutty lingered over her head. Something had upset her. "Is something wrong?"
"My opponent is…" Pratty's soft voice petered out as she couldn't bring herself to finish.
"It's me," Trish said instead, turning the notice so that they could see for themselves that Pratty's name and affiliation were listed. "Pratty and I are opponents for the next round of the Tournament."