As he made his way through the tavern, Heron exchanged a glance with the red-haired woman, one of a condescending design. Perhaps he pitied the drunken fool, perhaps it was content for a lower breed than himself. He was of noble birth and had spent many days well-fed behind castle walls.
The woman spun on her chair, until her whole body had been facing Heron. "What are you looking at, pretty boy?" she flashed him a radiant smile. "Though it is rude to stare… I doubt anyone is to blame you."
Heron sat down on a chair beside his brother, turning to face the red-haired woman. "It's not your appearance, but your smell. You reek of oil, metal and ale. If I had to guess, you're a-"
Heron was interrupted by a full-bearded man from the table beside them. "Ain't her fault she smells like shit."
"Of course it isn't, she's a blacksmith." Heron retorted.
The woman wrinkled her nose, grabbing the fabric of her shirt and bringing it to her nose. "It's not that bad, is it?"
"I grew up around many great blacksmiths. The smell comforts me, and I'd be wise to say the same for my brother." Heron responded;
Willem, having entirely ignored the interaction, was ordering himself another pint and a hot meal.
Heron scoffed and continued. "Though, if you are to be gauche, allow me to offer reconciliation." He unveiled his decadent morningstar, engraved with runes and split into two just above the runic engravings; gently placing it on the table between them.
The woman looked down at it, her fingers gently dancing around its hilt. "This is expensive…" She said, with a gulp.
"Aye. Can you manage?" Heron questioned.
"Of course I can!" The woman's face lit up.
Heron with a smile, once again continued speaking. "It's castle-forged and blessed, by an Aestarian priest. That being said, it is a family heirloom, not some random scrap metal, and I would ask you to treat it as such, and you will be paid generously."
The woman's grin widened, "Generously? And just how much is generous to you?" She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
"That depends on your flexibility. Me and my brother require accommodations- if you'd be so kind as to fork a few beds over, I'll happily increment your pay as well as 35 luxel."
Willem, as he grew bored of waiting for his food, invited himself into this conversation. He looked to the morningstar first, then to his brother. "Does this woman know a suitable smith?"
"that is precisely what we're negotiating now." Heron stated.
"Then we have ourselves a deal!" the red haired woman piped up. "I'll have your morningstar done by tomorrow!"
Willem interjected, "And which of Harlonia's smiths do you represent?"
The red-haired woman took a moment, thinking for a moment.
"Wel, I am not from Harlonia. I'm from the Silvanic Empire.."
Heron cocked a brow.
"BUT! I can still help you! I'll do it for less! Trust me!"
An air of disappointment washed over Willem. He looked the woman up and down once more, judging her by her messy clothes and dirty hair. Clearly, this woman was down on her luck. With a sigh, Willem said "And which of the Silvan blacksmiths do you represent?"
"The price family!" She responded.
Heron went to speak, though Willem held up his hand, motioning silence.
Heron curled his lips, averting his sight.
Willem turned his head to his brother. "And who is head of the Price family?" Willem said this without returning his gaze to the woman.
"That would be me, ser!" The red-haired woman said.
Willem then sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"So that blacksmith you represent… is yourself?" He was almost glaring at Heron now, irritatedly wondering why his brother would consider trusting a young inexperienced blacksmith with a weapon of such importance.
"Correct! Please trust me! Give me any price, It'd be a shame to pass up on such an offer!"
"10 luxel! Accommodation included!" Heron quickly blurted out.
"Done! Seems like we have a deal!" She said. -
With a hesitant sigh, Willem said "Only if proof of skill is provided." He then returned to his seat, where a bowl of fresh soup was waiting for him.
"He seems charming. Oh! And I'm Elaine, by the way." She stuck her hand out.
Heron reached forward, shaking her hand while cocking a half-smirk at the remark about his brother. "I'm Heron, and that's Willem."
Elaine smiled gently. "Well then! How about a drink, yea?"
Heron glanced back to Willem, awaiting a non-verbal reaction, though getting none. "I might have time for an ale or two." He then retrieved two luxels from his pocket, sliding them over.
Elaine beckoned over the bartender, ordering 3 mugs of ale. Heron shot coy glances around the room. "You plan on drinking two mugs of ale? Because I certainly don't."
She cleared her throat, pointing at a large man who was drinking by himself. "YOU! Get over here!" The man pointed to himself, confused on why this random lady was yelling to him. "Yes, you big buck! Get over here, I bought an extra cup of ale and neither of us want it!"
"Fair'nough." The man stood up, walking over, a mug of his own in hand. He was a tall man, with a goatee and of a fairer complexion.
"Hey! What's your name! Mine is Elaine!" Elaine inquired. The tall man eye'd the lass for a moment, skeptical, though a free pint was enticing. "Ditrian."
He spoke plainly. "Well, Ditrian, Heron! A toast! to new friends!" With a hearty shout the group toasted to a good night.