After the two had collected themselves they had made their way not to the Adventurer’s Guild but the bcksmith that was, apparently, close to Sharra’s bakery. They had, of course, purchased some snacks at the bakery and now walked with a bag of fry-cakes, both filled and pin, all of them rolled in sugar.Wheer had seen a dark-crusted, siil-topped stick of bread Broseff had been surprised by the rea, but Peter fessed a deep abiding love for the brettsel from his home world, buying two of the baked good and happily mung on one as they walked, giggling to himself. “Six dausch for two brettsel sticks isn’t bad.” Peter admitted, “And, slice these open, put some butter ooasted so the butter melts, or room temp so the butter is smooth and thick?” He sighed happily before taking another bite. “So… it’s fair to say you like food.” Broseff ughed, biting into a roll he had purchased himself so he wasn’t having just the sweet fry-cakes. “Very much so. I’m going to have to work hard to keep the poundage off this time around.” Peter sighed, blushing, “I, ah, was fairly zy in my other life and very out of shape.”Broseff nodded, “Well, you’re certainly set up for an active life, so I doubt you’ll have to worry about getting heavier. If anything you might end up having to eat more because you’re losi.” “That is a distinct possibility.” He agreed, biting and chewing, “Bweeheehee~” He swallowed, “It’s the simple pleasures in life.” “Here-Here.”The two toasted with their savory snacks as the sounds of hammerial filled their ears. “Ah, we must be close.” Peter smiled.Broseff chuckled, “What gave you that idea?” “Oh, just a ringing in the ears.” “That was horrible.” “Thank you.” Peter grinned.Broseff rolled his eyes.

  Suddenly there was a loud crag snap and a loud, feminine shout of pain.Without even looking at each other the two raced off towards the cmor as other people who also heard the shout started to gather.

  It wasn’t a terrible se they happened upon, thankfully, but it was bad enough.Trying to move what had fallen over, and onto her arm, was the bcksmith that Peter had met in the baker the other day.The bcksmith grurying to move the stump-and-anvil, “F-Fuck…” She gasped. “Help’s here!” Broseff called out as he aer rushed into the workshop. “I don’t… something snapped and my anvil fell, I was-ngh-dumb and tried to catch it, my arm—”The guard nodded, looking around, “I’ll find something to leverage the anv—” He watched as Peter rushed to the bcksmith’s side and, without a sed thought, gripped at the anvil and the stump it was attached to, “Peter, you ’t…” “HRGN…” Peter’s fingers flexed and they heard metal and wood creaking and crag, respectively, as he dug into it. Squatting down to lift with his knees he groaned aed; not just tilting it off her arm but lifting the anvil and stump off the ground, to his knee height, before king it off to his side by a good six feet. “P-Peytr…” Broseff asked, “How…”From the floor, with a pretty bad-looki arm, Khasha looked up at him, “T-That thing weighs… two-hundred kelgrons.” “You just chucked that thing like it was a sack of flour!” Broseff gawped.Peter shrugged as he k down, “It o be moved. So I moved it.” He said, looking to the bcksmith, “I met you at the bakery…” “Yeah. Khasha.” She nodded, “Thanks for the help…”He nodded, “Don’t try to move, though. Even I tell that your arm is broke.” “It very much is.” Broseff nodded, kneelio her, “Let us help you up, and we get you to the ibsp; “Ngh…” She grunted, half sitting up, “I hate it, but yeah… damn. This is going to set my work back months.” She hissed. “Not necessarily.” Peter said as Broseff got her into a sitting position. “My arm is going to be in a cast, I ’t exactly— Oh…” Khasha, rightfully angry and snapping at Peter, not knowing he was from another world, stopped mid-sentence as he saw his hands glowing golden with a purple outline, “… What…” Okay, Aunt Di’s. Guide my hand. He whispered mentally as he moved his hands over to her broken arm. |Easy now…| Di’si’thy whispered in his ‘ear’, |… Think of it like a sink faucet and treat your mana like the water. You’ll o trickle in the flow, so her body doesn’t get overwhelmed by the influx of energy or the burst of activity as you kickstart, a’s be ho, turbo-charge, the healing process.| Do I o picture bones mending or something? |It might help you sihat’s how you did magic without instru before.|Peter exhaled, closing his eyes, the glhtening a little bit as he gently pushed his mana into Khasha. He saw his golden-purple ix with hers, a fiery e-yellow, and he kept the Goddess of Magic’s words in his mind — Keep it slow, trickle it in. “Ngh, fuck fuck.” She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as the quiet cracks and ccks of bones resetting themselves were heard. Let’s see if I … try something… |Careful now, you don’t want to overwhelm her trying to dull the paiher. That’s what you were going to dht?| Yes. He admitted, At least a little.He reached out, one hand h over her arm while the other rested on her forehead, and, for a few moments, he switched what he was doing. Instead of imagining bones setting he was imagining his mana ‘cushioning’ hers, almost insuting her nerves and making sure to mi with hers enough that it would be absorbed into her system easily enough, not unlike a blood transfusion. |Good call on that.| Di’si’thy gratuted, |She’ll still feel but it’s less now. No worse off than the sort of shot a healer would give to dull the pain.| Okay the’s get down to business.Peter moved his hand back to her arm and pumped a little more of his energy into her doing his best to ighe stares from the two, as well as the murmurs of the growing crowd behind him as they gathered from Khasha’s shout. |Yood.|Peter sat back, hands c his face with his fingers over his ears and the heels of his hands pressing against his eyes, “…Ghhnnn…” “Peytr…” Broseff put a hand on his shoulder as the otherworlder started to reel a little. “Hey… are you okay?” Khasha asked, her voice low, looking from Peter to her arm, flexing it and moving it, “That… thank you.” She whispered, “You just saved me months of missing out on work.” “Mghm.” Peter nodded, “M’fine. Just… dizzy.” He whispered.Broseff sighed, “You still haven’t fully recovered from…” He paused, realizing that people could hear, “… that thing the other day.” “Guess not.” |You really haven’t.| Di’si’thy gently ‘pat’ his head in a soothing manner “Had to heal her though…” Peter sighed, fighting the near-vertigo “Worth it.”Khasha stood up, “No, believe me, I appreciate it!” She whispered, standing up carefully as her arm was still a bit tender — sidering she had an anvil that weighed as much as it did. She was lucky it broke as ly as it did and was an ‘easy fix’.

  “Okay, everything’s good.” Broseff stood up as well, holding up his hands, “Everything’s taken care of. My friend and I are with the Church Luminous and the bcksmith is healed up and good to go.” He tried his best at damage trol.Thankfully, with the ‘show’ over with and people seeing Khasha doing well enough, they started to disperse. Save one. “Oh, Khasha!”It was Sharra, the baker, “Boys!” She jogged up and hugged the bcksmith and guard iout, plump arms, “Khasha, honey, are you alright?” “Fine, now, thanks to Peytr.” She cpped the still-sitting otherworlder firmly on the shoulder, “Again, my thanks.”Peter nodded, “No problem.” “Let me get you some water…” Khasha frowned, moving around out of the workshop, still marveling at her arm. “What happened?” Sharra asked, looking past Broseff towards Khasha as she opened up a small athyr-powered chill-chest took out a big brown bottle, and popped its cork. “I was w on a ission.” She walked back, passing the bottle to Peter and going to pick up the obje question — as well as something else she spied on the floor of her workspace, “… I had thought the damn thing broke but look at this…” She offered them what was in her hand. “That looks like a sawed-off hunk of wood.” Broseff identified. “Sawed. Not snapped or broken.” Khasha nodded, going over to her anvil, “Xtha’s tits…” She whispered.Peter snickered. “What?” Sharra asked, blushing a little at the curse. “Well, aside from the fact Peytr will probably o move the anvil back after tossing it over here… I’ll o repce the stump it’s on. That piece of wood I showed you fits perfect over here. Someo my damn anvil stump so it would bend and crack.” She grunted, “And I was stupid enough to try and brace it. I shoulda just got out of the way. I would have been a couple days off, repg it, instead of weeks or months with that broken arm.” “Who would do that?” Sharra asked, worried about her neighbor and friend, only getting an unknowing shrug from the bcksmith in the way of an answer. “Gd to help.” Peter lifted the bottle in salute before taking a slow drink from it. “What do I owe you.” She asked, tossing the k of wood aside with a growl, “Because you aren’t getting out of here without a thank you.” “At the very least!” Sharra agreed, “Khasha is a good person and a hard worker. I ’t imagine what would happen if she couldn’t work anymore…” She worried her apron’s strings a little, “I ’t thank you enough either for helping her.” She admitted. “Well, I was going to see if you had a sheath, erm scabbard, for a sword I… ah… was gifted.” Peter coughed, not really wanting to go into the whole story, “I was going to pay, of course.” “A sword, eh?” Khasha nodded, “If you’ll let me see it, I figure out if I have one, or o make one.” She chuckled, “Lucky I do more than just bcksmithing. I make the sheathes for the swords I fe too. Makes seo me.” “Right, right. I wasn’t thinking straight. Looks like I lucked out. You don’t go to a metal-worker for leather goods…” Peter sighed, lifting the sheet-ed sword to the bcksmith, now feeli enough to stand up.He also grabbed his brettsels and munched slowly on those, sighing, “Oh that was not fun.” He whispered.

  “This is a very fancy executioner’s sword.” Khasha frowned, looking to Peter, “You said this was a gift?” “It was.” Peter nodded, “The, ah, gifter be a touch over-dramatic, it seems.” He grinned while Broseff shot him a Look at speaking of the Goddess of Death in that way, having no idea she had admitted su her own. “I see.” She nodded, “Well. That’s certainly an easy task. You aren’t going into fights with this are you?”Peter shook his head, “No. ‘To be used at specific times for specific purposes. It’s a tool, not a on’. So the gifter told me.” He paused, “Ah, and, no, I am not pnning on using it for, ah, you know.” I least I hope not… He added to himself. “Right.” She nodded, sharing looks with Sharra and Broseff. The guard, at least, nodded, hoping to quell their worry. “I was there for the gifting and, well, nothing was said about him using for, well, the type of sword it is.” He assured. “Rather cryptic then…” Sharra whispered.To that Peter and Broseff heir agreement. “Then you still need a on.” She said pinly, “As you said, this is a tool. And, well, a sheath doesn’t even begin to cover what you saved me, d.”

  “I… well that is teically true…” Peter admitted.Khasha fixed the otherworlder with a serious gaze, fists on her hips, “Then I’ll brook nument.”Peter rubbed at his temples, his answer a soft, tired, “Fine, fine.” “Now, while I would love to gift you a on as thanks… I just don’t have the time for that currently.” She seemed a bit embarrassed at admitting that, “I have a full load of projects and work needing doo pay the bills.” “Oh, no no.” Peter waved his hands, “I totally uand that.” “I do, however, have some quality ons, and armor if you’d like, that I have from past issions that fell through, as well as things my apprentice has made.” She offered, “Such things I usually keep around in case someone, say an Adventurer, needs a quick on rept.” "Makes sense.” Peter agreed.Khasha led him over to a er of the shop, then, where at least three sizable wood and steel racks stood with various ons on dispy: Swords, axes, halberds. Long, short, wide bdes, thin and narrow.Peter was surprised by the variety Khasha had ‘ying around’ and had to wonder why so many people reneged on their ission, or, perhaps and a more positive thought, was that the apprentice she mentioned was getting a lot of practi w on different bde types and styles. However — something caught his eye.Looking to Khasha he motioo the rack, “May I?” “Want to get a feel for something?” She asked, nodding, “Go ahead.” Stepping back to give Peter room she watched him carefully.

  What he reached for was nht-bded, shiny sword worthy of a galnt knight — nor was it a curved-edged scimitar or fal that would make him a whirlwind of destru on whatever battlefield he chose. The on that Peter picked up was as long as he was tall, perhaps just a tad taller depending on where you measured the end of the on.A sturdy wooden haft ed in thiher strips, it didn’t have a pommel, per se, more than it had a thick ring of simple steel or iron that had a shall or loop extending from it to this loop was tied thick purple-dyed cord that ended in a feathery tassel of gold. The haft of the on, as he picked it up to get a feel for its weight, was as long as his arm was from shoulder to wrist, and just as thick, and ended with an equally thick, but wider, ring to act as a guard.The rest of the on was, as Peter would call it, ‘the business end’ and was shaped like a square with its ers cut off (teically this made it an octagon but it looked more like a ‘clipped square’ than a ‘stop sign’ to Peter) — it was still wood, and half-again as thick as the handle of the on, but the eight sides all had a strip of metal running down its face from guard-ring to the on tip, which was capped ial and fastened dowrips with rather rge rounded nails or bolts of some sort; these rounded bolts also ran dowal strips along the eight faces, staggering their pt depending on if it was a rge face or one of the small angled sides. It also had a band of metal running around the circumference of the ht above the guard ring as well as two others, equally pced, along the body of ‘the business end’ for stability.

  “That… is an oni’s on…” Broseff couldn’t hide his surprise at the choice, “Are you… sure you want that?” “Are Oni … I dunno… an evil race, or bad… or something?” Peter asked.Broseff coughed, “Well, no. No. Not any more than any other race, of course. It’s just… I guess it’s just what’s ‘in style’. Freiholm warriors tend to favor sword and shield, or a halberd. Something with a bded edge. Blunt ons are seen as… old? Not barbaric but… simple?” “Well, I was never oo follow the trend.” Peter chuckled, moving away from the two, as well as trying to get away from most things around him, before just lightly swinging it from left tht, then up and down. Nothing fast, n to strike anything, he was just testing its weight, bance, and hand-feel, “Never mind the fact that, holy, I don’t really trust myself with a bde.” He frowned, “I don’t want to stab someone and actally hit something vital.”

  “That’s fairly responsible.” Khasha said, “Though you could just as easily end someone crushing them.” “True.” Peter said, giving a slightly harder over-head swing, grinning at the fairly deep woosh he got from the movement, “Maybe it’s just me, but I feel I be more careful about that, than I with a sword and cutting or stabbing.” “… sidering what you did to that anvil…” Broseff coughed under his breath. “Oh, that reminds me.” Peter set down the kanabō a over to the anvil.Khasha put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “I’m going to have to level it out and find a base for it, et a ump so it’s at the right height again.” She expihen paused, “Oh. Hang on, I just had an idea.” “Sure.” Peter said.The bcksmith went rabbing a saw along the way, and as quickly as she could sawed the bottom even and ft. Then she found some solid bricks that reminded Peter of der blocks that she stacked up. Nodding to herself she turo Peter and o the anvil.Getting the clue Peter gave a nod bad gripped at the anvil once more, moving it was surprising ease onto the ‘der-blocks’. Ohere, and aligned how Khasha wa, the bcksmith tested out the height by taking a practice swing with a hammer — though she did wi her arm. “Right. ic first, then work.” She reminded herself, to Peter she posed a question, “You sure you want that on?” “I think I do.” He nodded, “It’s got reach, damaging power, I block with it. If I o cut something I’ll buy a dagger or something.” He shrugged, “It feels good in my hands too.” “It’s yours then.” She nodded, “That’s an Oni’s kanabō, think of it as a long-ass mace.”Peter nodded, “It’s made of wood aal, that much I tell…” “Its former owner said it was daimokuzai; it’s a wood that is strong as tempered steel.” She o the sword and other bdes on the dispy racks, “The metal strips are made of a mana-infused, well, metal, that they call Mahoukin.” “Mh, is it now?” Peter’s tone was curious, as if he wao try something — however, whatever he was thinking would have to wait. He turo Khasha, “If this suffices for your iion to pay me baoving the anvil off you… then I’ll happily take it.” “And a sheath for your sword.” Khasha nodded as she went to grab one for the otherworlder. “That too.” He agreed, taking the scabbard and putting the sword away, tying the little leather cords it had around the hao ‘peace bond’ it, and sighed — one less worry. “I’d be missing a sale if I didn’t tell you to e back for some armor.” Khasha ughed “Worry about that aime.” Sharra worried herself to the bcksmith’s side and took her arm, “We’re taking you to the healer’s ic to get that arm looked at.” She looked to Peter, “No offeo you, of course, and thank you again for healing her as well as resg her…” “Absolutely aken.” Peter adjusted the scabbard on his pant’s belt, moving the pouch, and took the kanabō in hand, resting it on his shoulder just below the guard ring and theing his arm on the handle so it was ‘kinda sorta’ tucked against his elbow, “I will take you up on that offer for armor when I have some more to spend — something we—” he motioo Broseff and himself, “— are in the process of remedying.” “Good luck at the Adventurer’s Guild, then.” Khasha spped Peter across the back as the four left her workshop, with her log up, and parting ways for their owinations.

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