The Blacksmith - Part 2: Pickup
The streets were busier than usual.
Monsterphilia. The festival everyone had been talking about. Crowds moved in the opposite direction—families, adventurers, tourists all heading toward the main plaza where the tamed monsters were supposedly on display.
Didn't matter to me.
I had somewhere to be.
I turned west, following the same route as yesterday. Away from the noise. Away from the crowds.
Toward the forge.
The building looked the same. Smoke still leaked from the roof. Door still open.
I stepped inside.
Levi was waiting.
He'd laid everything out on the workbench. Organized. Ready.
Light armor—leather with metal plates riveted across the chest, shoulders, and sides. Simple. Functional. No decoration.
And two knives.
I stopped.
Stared.
They were exactly what I'd drawn.
Broad blades, slightly curved. Single edge, thick spine. Dark steel, unpolished but clean. The hilts were wrapped in leather, reinforced at the base with metal rings.
Heavy.
Brutal.
Efficient.
"Go ahead," Levi said. "Test them."
I picked one up.
The weight settled into my hand immediately.
Not light. Not heavy.
Just... right.
I adjusted my grip. Felt the balance.
My hand knew what to do.
Thumb along the spine. Fingers wrapped firm but not tight. Wrist loose.
I didn't think about it.
Just moved.
One cut. Clean. Controlled.
The air made a soft sound—whsss.
I stopped.
Looked at the blade.
At my hand.
At the way it fit.
It felt...
Right.
Not unfamiliar. Not new.
Like picking up something I'd set down a long time ago and forgotten about.
"Well?" Levi asked.
I set the knife down carefully. Picked up the second one.
Same length. Efficient.
I held both.
Tested the spacing. The way my arms moved when I adjusted stance.
My body knew.
Feet apart. Weight forward. Elbows in.
One blade high. One blade low.
Ready to cut.
Ready to move.
I exhaled slowly.
Set them down.
"They're good," I said quietly.
He grinned. "Damn right they're good."
I picked up the armor. Slipped it on.
Leather settled against my shoulders, metal plates resting over my chest and sides.
Not restrictive. Not loose.
Just... right.
I moved. Twisted. Raised my arms.
No binding. No catching.
"Fits," I said.
"Of course it fits. I'm a professional."
I looked at him.
He was still grinning, clearly proud.
I picked up the knives again. Slid them into the belt loops I'd rigged earlier.
They sat at my hips. Ready. Accessible.
"Thanks," I said.
He waved me off. "You paid. We're square."
I turned to leave.
"Hey."
I stopped. Looked back.
He was leaning against the workbench, arms crossed.
"You need gear again, come back. Low price, Lower than anyone can."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "You're the first person who's asked me to make something interesting. And—" He glanced at the knives at my hips. "—I want to see if those things actually work."
I smiled.
Slightly. To show my appreciation.
"If I survive long enough, I'll let you know."
"Do that."
I left.
Outside, the streets had gotten louder.
Distant shouting. Sounds I couldn't place.
I adjusted the armor. Checked the knives one more time.
The weight felt natural. Familiar.
I drew one blade.
Held it.
The balance was perfect.
My hand knew where to grip. My wrist knew how to angle.
It felt...
Natural.
Like I'd been holding knives like this my whole life.
I frowned.
Even though they these are two times bigger.
That was weird.
I shook my head. Slid the knife back into place.
Didn't matter.
What mattered was I had gear now.
Real gear.
Not a broken sword.
Not rags pretending to be armor.
Actual equipment.
The shouting in the distance got louder.
I glanced toward the main road.
Whatever was happening, it sounded like chaos.
I turned away from the noise.
Headed in the opposite direction.
Tomorrow, I'd test this equipment properly.
Tonight, I'd rest.
For the first time in weeks, I felt prepared.