He did not find the capital city more agreeable the second time around.
The sun was glaring brighter too, adding an uncomfortable heat to the equation. The blade's knees hurt and the scarf made him feel constricted and uneasy. The only good thing was that Niki had indeed joined them again. She didn't really comment on how business with her family went, aside from mentioning she'd have dinner with them again in the evening. So that was another night spent at the inn. Another night for the blade to mess up.
Wilbur clearly did not remember what happened at the bar.
A small mercy. His pants covered the angry red marks on the blade's legs, some bruises already turning a deep purple color. He would like not to need another punishment.
They ventured out into the city again, to visit more shops and enjoy the sights. The blade was making a very deliberate effort to keep his mind on his tasks today. No more getting distracted, or having sudden flights of fancy. He needed to concentrate on what mattered. He wanted to bring the trip to a good end, so they could return home safely and Phil would be pleased with him.
And maybe, if the blade worked up the courage for it, he could ask for Phil not to send him away again.
He knew that demanding one task over another wasn't his place, but it didn't feel like the blade's presence in the capital with the others was really needed. On the battlefield, things were different. The blade stood at his master's side because a weapon was supposed to be there. Outside of war, he would make himself useful however his masters required. But nothing so far had pointed towards the capital city being a particularly dangerous place. Wilbur and Niki were intricately familiar with its layout and Tommy was good at engaging strangers. What was the blade there for if there was no threat to fight? Who was he supposed to defend his owners from?
He could serve just as well back at the house, farming and doing chores. Making himself useful.
"Stick close, if you can. And if you do lose us, try to head to that fountain over there so we can find each other again." Niki pointed out a large water feature in the middle of the town square. Even with the busy market that was going on, the bronze shapes on top stood out to the naked eye. The morning light caught on the gleaming metal.
The blade nodded. He wasn't fond of the capital at all, and this market thing even less so. Markets were nests of vermin and deceit, his master used to say. Traveling merchants couldn't be trusted. A man with confidence in his wares would open a shop, then his customers would come to him. He could build a reputation. Somebody who bounced from place to place, peddling his wares to other people persistently? They either were desperate and thus a pain in the ass with how they would cling to potential customers in the most obtrusive ways possible. Or they were straight-up liars, tricking innocent fools.
The blade did not have a lot of knowledge about either. He didn't like salespeople in general. They were… pushy. And loud. And touched him in ways that made him flinch to get his attention.
"Are we looking for anything in particular?" he asked carefully. If he knew what his owners were looking to buy, he could keep an eye out and they could all be out of there quicker. Perhaps they could go back to the temple. The blade had the thought that they might need to be there again. He heard the chiming of a bell in his dreams sometimes. For some reason, he felt the bell on the altar would make a similar sound.
Claws curled into his own palms, pain brought him back to the present. Concentrate. He had to concentrate.
"Nah, just having a little wander," Wilbur said, the statement light and airy in stark contrast to the sour look on his face. The blade might not have mentioned the bar - and again, Wilbur obviously did not remember all of it - but the headaches were there. Wilbur's shaky, pale form reminded the blade of the soldiers in the barracks, during times of peace when nothing stopped them from drinking too much. Laughing and playing cards and half-heartedly sparring on the pitch around sundown.
His master had foul stuff to say about those men too. Squandering time and resources, swords rusting in their scabbards. The blade would do anything not to become like them.
So he did his utmost best to pay full attention, walking after the other three across the market. Most of the stands sold either food or fabrics. Though in neither case was it the sort a commoner would usually buy. The cloth was spun on long wooden cylinders, allowing the desired length to effortlessly be unfurled and snipped off. Their colors were rich, vibrant, not easily manufactured. Blues and purples and blended shades that transitioned from one hue to another. Some already had rhinestones and embroidery worked into the fabric, to save a seamstress the trouble. The food too, a variety of exotic spices and cured meats. The blade saw dishes ready to be served, and bottles of expensive wine.
They were near the grand building Niki went to when she visited her family, so that made sense. The blade could presume a lot of nobles lived or stayed in this part of the capital.
Despite this outward appearance of grandeur, the market certainly wasn't exclusively one meant for luxury items. The scent of manure permeated some corners, coming from stands that had cages full of chickens in them. And some tables displayed wares of a lower quality. Wilbur seemed particularly drawn to these, looking to strike a bargain.
For his part, the blade staunchly kept his wits about him and concentrated on their surroundings, on every face in the crowd. He had to be on guard. He couldn't mess up anymore.
"Woah!"
His attention was drawn by Tommy crying out in amazement, darting off towards a man who had set up a tarp on the ground. Wilbur and Niki followed Tommy over, with the blade following because he couldn't afford losing any of them. The man was sitting cross-legged on the tarp in front of a very low table, barely two or three inches off the ground. On the table were three cups.
And next to the man was a sign that said 'Skeppy's Spectacular Subterfuge'.
The blade tilted his head, unsure what that word meant. But the man - Skeppy, unless the sign was lying - was explaining the rules of the game to a crowd of eager onlookers right as they walked up. The blade caught the tail end of Skeppy's explanation.
"All you have to do is guess which cup is hiding the ball. Easy enough, right?" Skeppy smirked and held up a small, rubber sphere. He let it run through his fingers, the trick impressive at a glance though the blade knew it would only require a small amount of dexterity. Less so if the ball was weighted, which it likely was. There was a tiny seam in the rubber.
Another person was kneeling on the opposite side of the tarp, back facing the crowd. The person invited to partake in the game, presumably. A young woman around Niki's age. She was wearing a fine silken dress, bunched up around her hips a bit though that didn't entirely stop it from trailing in the dirt. Rich. A noblewoman.
She had already put five golden coins on the table's corner, away from the cups. The price for partaking in the game.
Skeppy balanced the ball on the table and covered it with the middle cup. Then he started to shuffle them around. His hand movements were smooth and quick, cups sliding across the table that was sanded to a perfectly flat surface to allow this to work. The blade had seen games of a similar nature before sometimes.
He wasn't very surprised when Skeppy lifted the edge of the cup and allowed the momentum to slide the ball from under it, until it disappeared under the rim of another cup. The little flick happened so fast, the blade assumed that the woman kept tracking the wrong cup with her eyes.
"Take your pick. Whichever one you think has the ball beneath it," Skeppy said when he was done, spreading his arms. "And remember, if you win, you can have whatever you want from my collection." Skeppy nodded at a small heap of jewelry lying next to him.
"Oh, I'm sure it's this one," the woman proclaimed, placing her finger on the top of the cup that Skeppy originally hid the ball under. She had a good eye to still know which one that was.
But when Skeppy lifted it up, of course there was nothing beneath it.
"Aw, that's too bad," Skeppy said, insincerely. The woman was too busy gaping at the empty cup to notice. "Want to go again?"
Rather than answering, she got up in a huff, literally scowling down at Skeppy in disdain. The man didn't mind, grinning back at her until she had left, before grabbing his winnings from the table. Then he addressed the crowd.
"Anybody else wants to try their luck?"
"Me! Me!" Tommy was basically jumping in place. The blade saw Wilbur make a grab for Tommy's sleeve to stop him, but Tommy had already sat down. He placed a few coins on the table. "Just have to see where the ball goes, right?"
"Easy," Skeppy agreed. "I'm sure you can manage."
The blade was very sure Tommy wouldn't manage.
Niki seemed to think so too. "Are we going to let him do this?"
"It's his gold he's losing," Wilbur shrugged.
Skeppy put the ball on the table again, returning to sliding the cups around. Like last time, he changed what cup the ball was under at the last second. The blade wondered if Tommy had noticed. It seemed unlikely that he'd be the only one who caught the sleight of hand, deft as it was. But then again, catching stuff like that was something he'd been trained for. The smallest motion, the cupping of poison into his master's drink, a dagger pulled out of a sleeve. Reflexes sharpened to perfection.
Tommy pointed at the wrong cup.
"Aw, man," Tommy sighed when it was lifted. Skeppy beamed.
"Hey, you could play again. Double or nothing?"
"Tommy-" Wilbur tried, but went ignored again by Tommy, who picked another bunch of coins from his purse. The blade knew that Tommy didn't make money. He got it from Wilbur or Phil. So despite Wilbur saying earlier that it was 'his gold he's losing', the reality was that the money belonged to all of them, or both of them, in a way. The blade found it very useful to not need to manage money. It seemed stressful. His old master also antagonized about their income a lot.
The game resumed. Skeppy did the same thing again, changing what cup was hiding his rubber ploy. Tommy considered his answer more carefully this time, frowning at the upside-down cups as if he could look through them if he tried hard enough. The effort was almost enough to give the blade his own headache in empathy. Especially because he knew where the ball was. Tommy picked wrong.
"Fuck!" Tommy grabbed at his hair. The crowd gathered was losing interest, some already moving on to other stands. Seeing somebody get beaten over and over had little novelty to it. "I wanna try again."
"Tommy, are you sure? You're going to end up broke," Niki said placatingly, kindly trying to dissuade him.
"Nah, just help me look," Tommy insisted.
"Double again?" Skeppy suggested. "Third time's the charm, right?" He gestured with one hand, calmly. Trying to reel them in, since he was so certain of his win.
"Yeah! Yeah, let's do it." Tommy pulled out his pouch again. Wilbur crossed his arms but didn't say anything.
The same routine commenced, familiar enough that the blade barely needed to pay attention. Tommy was concentrating so hard, his tongue peeked out from between his lips, squinting at each cup in turn. Then he looked up at the blade unexpectedly. "What do you think?"
"I-" the blade faltered, not expecting to be called upon for something this mundane. But he could not lie to one of his masters. "It's that one," he said, pointing out the cup Skeppy had secretly slid the ball under. He saw blue eyes widen in surprise, from both Skeppy and Tommy for very different reasons.
"Really? I didn't think it was that one," Tommy said. "But if you're sure."
The blade nodded once. Reluctantly, Skeppy lifted the cup. The ball came tumbling off the table with the more jerky motion. Some of the people who had stuck around to watch clearly shared Tommy's surprise.
"Holy shit!" Tommy pumped his fists, laughing. "Nice. Well done, Blade."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Skeppy pushed the gold into Tommy's lap, not too happy with the defeat. Though if the redness creeping up his neck was anything to go by, the embarrassment of having been humiliated in front of a crowd was the worse thing.
"Maybe Blade should have a proper turn, he's good at it," Tommy said, already pulling the blade down by his elbow to sit beside him.
"Fine," Skeppy said. "Though the day isn't getting any younger, so we're doing a one-round per customer thing now, okay?"
The blade smiled to himself. Skeppy wasn't as dumb as he looked. He wasn't going to let them win often.
Tommy put coins back on the table. Skeppy returned to his attitude of sportsmanship with a smirk, shaking the loss off as a fluke. He showed the ball to the blade, who barely glanced at it, before sliding it under the middle cup. The blade didn't get the point of this exercise. The game was kind of silly. But if his master wanted him to play, he would.
Skeppy started to shuffle the cups slowly, gradually speeding up to build some suspense. The blade didn't think it was necessary. Most of the crowd was already invested. They wanted to see if the blade winning was a coincidence or not. Skeppy flicked the cup again, even more subtle than before. The blade watched the ball roll into his lap, hidden between the folds of his clothes. He continued shuffling as if nothing had happened, then raised his hand.
"So, what cup do you think the ball is under?" he asked.
The blade frowned. "None of them," he said.
Skeppy's lip twitched, slightly, though he made an admirable effort to play it off with a laugh. "That's not an option, just pick a cup, man."
"Do you want me to just pick a cup or tell you which one the ball is under?" The blade was genuinely a little confused.
"What do you mean?" Tommy asked.
"He flicked the ball from under the cup and into his lap," the blade explained.
Wilbur snorted loudly. "Skeppy's Spectacular Subterfuge? More like a spectacular swindle."
Some mutters passed through the crowd. Skeppy waved his hands, swiping up the ball and feigning surprise. "Ah, wouldn't you know? Guess I dropped it by accident."
"Right," Niki said sweetly. "Completely by accident. But our friend did win, so shouldn't he get a prize?"
"Fine." Skeppy did not look all too happy with it, which made the blade smile again. Losing bruised Skeppy's ego. The blade beat him at his own game. He thought about his potatoes, and the large field of the other farmer. He hoped Phil was taking good care of his plants.
Their plants. Phil's plants, really. The blade planted them, but the plants were not his.
An array of shiny items was deposited on the table with a grunt. "Pick whatever you like."
It took a second before the blade realized he was being asked to choose. He glanced at Tommy, assuming he would be the one picking a trinket. Wasn't the blade playing at Tommy's behest? But Tommy seemed completely unaware of the blade's hesitation, busy putting his coins back in his purse. The blade sighed and looked at the small collection of jewelry Skeppy had presumably either stolen or won after people ran out of money while betting on his rigged game.
He picked the first golden thing he saw.
Gold was good. Not the sturdiest metal, useless for weapons. But shiny in a way that the blade appreciated. And gold soaked in heat, making it warm to the touch. The item he picked was a thin band, simple links chained together. Not the finest craftsmanship. The blade liked it regardless. He held it in his open palm, almost jumping when Tommy dropped three coins into it too.
"Here. Since you kept me from losing all my money, it makes sense you deserve a share."
"I-" the blade started. Before he could finish, Skeppy was shooing them away.
"Go on then, other people might want to play too."
Tommy got up, pulling the blade to his feet. The blade glanced behind him, but the man was already back to entertaining the few gullible people from within the crowd who truly thought the ball landing in Skeppy's lap was an accident and not planned. The blade shook his head. His old master was right. Commoners were too trusting sometimes.
He curled his hand loosely around the golden bracelet and the coins Tommy had given to him.
The blade didn't know what to do with them. A weapon had no need to buy anything. What a strange waste of resources. He rubbed his thumb over the largest coin over and over, but truth be told having them in his possession made him strangely uncomfortable.
One time, he watched a servant girl steal from the master.
She was an ungrateful wretch. All of the servants were to some extent, naturally. None of them truly appreciated all that the master did for them, and the blade was rarely the sole exception. He did his best to show the master that he understood the magnitude of their kindness. The servant girl had wanted to run away. She had family living in the north. An aunt and an uncle, people who would take her in when the war had orphaned her. The master took her in instead, and all she had to do was serve, and yet she would scorn that. She tried to steal some money, a paltry amount that would last her through the journey north.
The master had her whipped for all to see. Then he had hung her from the wall, where the crows feasted on her body.
The blade remembered it as a tumultuous time, not too long before the men were called to the front and the war broke out properly. The two incidents never seemed connected before, but since he had heard word of rebellion and with knowledge of how the war ended… he did wonder if the master was setting an example for a good reason.
Maybe if the master had hung more servants from the walls, the blade wouldn't be wandering a market with three people who were not his owners but also not not his owners, and who gave him money he had no clue what to do with.
"Is something wrong?" Niki asked. They'd come to a stop at another stand, one with musical instruments that Wilbur was looking at. The blade loosened his grip on the coins and held them out to Niki.
"I don't know what to do with this," he admitted. Because he shouldn't lie, and it was an easy out. He couldn't articulate any of his other issues, so the coins were a good scapegoat.
"Do you want to buy something, maybe?" Niki asked. The blade couldn't tell if she had missed his point on purpose or not. He was not suggesting that he spend the money. That'd be ludicrous.
But Niki smiled at him so sincerely it made something twist inside him.
"I can buy something," he said.
He didn't want to. His masters wanted him to. And thus he had to prove he could buy something. If he tried to conceptualize it that way, he could do it.
"What do you want to buy?" Niki asked.
There it was. Why could things never be easy with these guys? The blade shrugged.
She gently took his wrist, and tugged him over to another market stall a little ways away. The man behind it was old and weathered looking, with a scar that ran over his cheek. His eyes widened a little when he saw the blade.
While the blade and Niki were still busy taking in the many books this table had on display, the man bent down to pick something up from next to him. He showed it to them with a grin.
"This might be of interest. Hybrids are a rare sight in the capital, right?" A sharp incisor peeked out from the corner of his mouth with the smile, eyes that had slitted pupils in them twinkling with friendly delight. "I picked this up from a researcher the other day, he's already back off to the Nether to study another species."
"Oh! Thank you!" Niki took the book. The cover was handmade and had a strange drawing of a pig standing on two legs. The blade could not read the title, the words too complex for his reading ability. She showed it to him. "Do you want to get this then?"
"What is it?" the blade asked.
Niki pointed at the words as she read them, showing him which one was which. "'A detailed account of piglin language, culture, and lifestyle'. It's royally funded field research in the Nether."
The blade blinked. He'd understood basically none of that except for a single word.
Piglin.
That's what Phil and Tommy said the blade was. Or part of him. The part that was not like them. The part that made him a weapon, maybe.
"I want to buy the book," he said.
The statement burnt on his tongue the moment he spoke it, feeling foreign and sharp, more spit-out barbed wire than anything. It made him want to cringe in on himself.
Niki didn't notice, she took the coins from him to pay the man.
They turned around, almost running straight into Wilbur who was approaching them from behind. He looked frazzled, hair a mess as if he'd run his fingers through it multiple times.
"Can we go? Where's Tommy?" Wilbur asked.
"Wha- How would we know, wasn't he with you?" Niki frowned, confused.
"We got into an argument and he ran off," Wilbur said. "I just assumed he ran to you guys."
"We haven't seen him," Niki said. "What kind of argument?"
"Nothing, just him being pissy," Wilbur answered vaguely. "Fuck, what a pain." He looked around, but the square was too crowded to see much.
The blade knew, because he was doing the same, dread a familiar enough thing. He turned his head, but he simply couldn't see Tommy. Anything could happen. Tommy could be hurt, or kidnapped, or killed, and the blade was supposed to be preventing that, but he was too busy buying a book with money that shouldn't even be his. These masters confused him, with their lenient touch. That didn't mean they'd refrain from punishing them for being a useless weapon. The one time he could have been of true use to them.
One day. All the blade needed to accomplish was one day of not being distracted from his purpose.
And he hadn't even managed that much.