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JL Chapter 14 Iron Sword
🕑 Added 2025-10-10 04:52:13 +0000 UTCThe sun had already climbed high above Varnhelm, bathing the city in warm gold as its busy streets hummed with noise and life. Carriages rattled by, merchants shouted their prices, and the air smelled faintly of iron, baked bread, and smoke. Amid the bustle, Mitchell walked with a determined stride, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his new short sword while his other hand gestured for Lovel to follow.
Lovel’s ears twitched as she glanced at him, her silver hair glinting under the sunlight. “Master,” she asked, her tone curious and calm, “where are we going?”
Mitchell grinned, his pace quick but relaxed. “You’ll see soon enough. There’s a place I know, a blacksmith shop where I bought the bronze sword from back when I first got here.” He chuckled lightly, glancing down at his patched clothes and worn boots. “Hopefully the old dwarf guy who runs it still remembers me.”
Lovel tilted her head slightly. “You mean the place where you bought your sword and armor?”
“Exactly,” Mitchell said, threading through the crowd. “Karl’s Blacksmith. The owner’s a grump but has solid craftsmanship considering just how much damage the bronze sword could take. Back then, I barely had enough copper to buy two items, but now—” He gave a proud little smirk. “—now we’ve got the spoils from that big, ugly bone-covered bastard. So it’s time to trade up.”
Lovel blinked, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Better weapons and armor, then?”
“Yup. For both of us,” Mitchell said. “No more half-chest armor. And no more scavenged knives or quills as your only defense.”
Her ears perked slightly at that, but her gaze softened. “You would buy armor for me too?”
Mitchell stopped in his tracks, turning toward her. “Of course,” He said simply, almost as if it were obvious. “We’re partners, right? Can’t have one of us going into the next fight looking like she borrowed her gear from a scarecrow.”
Lovel’s golden eyes widened for a heartbeat, and then she quickly looked away, her tail flicking once to hide the faint warmth in her expression. “I see,” she murmured. “Then let’s choose something… fitting.”
Mitchell smiled, pleased by her reaction. The two continued down the street, weaving through the crowd until the familiar clang of hammer on anvil reached their ears. The metallic rhythm grew louder and then the smell of burning coal and molten metal hit them instantly as they came in front of a squat, wide building standing at the corner of a narrow intersection. Smoke drifted from a crooked chimney, and a faded wooden sign above the door depicted an anvil with a sword embedded through it. Just beneath it, painted in crude letters, read:
KARL’S BLACKSMITH – YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT.
Sparks danced through the open doorway where the small burly figure of Karl worked, hammering down a glowing piece of steel atop his anvil. His arms were thick with muscle, his face hidden behind a leather apron and a tangled gray beard that seemed to have caught as much soot as his shop walls.
Mitchell grinned, nostalgia tugging at his chest. “There it is,”
He and Lovel opened the door and stepped inside. The interior hadn’t changed much from his previous visit as it was still kept clean, with weapons organized into racks of swords, spears, and armor.
At the center of it all was a short, broad-shouldered man bare-chested under a leather apron, arms like tree trunks, and a reddish beard standing on a crate, hammering away at a glowing hunk of metal. His thick arms flexed with each swing, soot covered his face, and his beard looked like it had been soaked in oil and fire. Sparks danced around him as he continued working, completely ignoring the new customer's entrance.
Mitchell, seeing how focused on his work Karl was, really brought him back to when he first came here and decided to say anything to catch his attention. “Oi, Karl! Still hammering steel?”
The older man didn’t look up, his hammering continuing to give heavy strikes.
Luckily another familiar face heard the sound of the door opening as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out from a side room. It was the Blacksmith’s assistant/slave, Seth, setting metal ingots aside and wiping his hands on a rag. His face furrowed as his gaze landed on the familiar, scruffy adventurer standing at his door.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Seth said, surprised and with a chuckle . “If it isn’t the weird rookie, how long has it been, a week? Master Karl thought you would die after three days.”
Mitchell laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ve gotten stronger since then.”
Seth’s gaze flicked to the bandages still visible around Mitchell’s arms, then to the silver-haired girl standing silently beside him. “Stronger, huh? Looks like you’ve been through a grinder. And who’s this? Did you save enough money and decide to buy a slave?”
Lovel blinked but remained polite, bowing her head slightly. “My name is Lovel. I fight beside Master Mitchell.”
Karl snorted, a ghost of a grin forming under his beard. “Fight beside him, huh? Brave girl.”
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “She’s not wrong, you know. We just took down a Great Bone Ape. Dragged it all the way back to Varnhelm ourselves.”
Seth’s expression froze, his hand lowering the rag. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mitchell asked, holding his arms out. “We’ve got the cuts, bruises, and fresh silver to prove it.”
The assistant let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned again. Guess the world’s gone mad if you’re the one slaying beasts like that.” Seth then turned to Karl and brought his attention. “Master, we have customers.”
That grabbed the dwarf’s attention as Karl dropped his hammer and pulled out his heavy gloves and turned to them. It only took him a second to recognize Mitchell and with a gruff voice spoke out. “So. You’re buying this time, not begging for hand-me-downs?”
Mitchell laughed. “Yeah. We actually have money now. A whole twelve silver and forty-eight bronze, straight from the guild’s pocket.”
Karl raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That won’t buy much.”
Mitchell winced. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. But I’m hoping you’ll give a loyal customer discount.”
Karl simply scoffed. “You? Loyal? This will be the second time you buy anything from here and I really doubt you’ll last long.”
Mitchell groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, I don’t have much confidence in myself, either.”
“Well a few silvers is better than none.” Karl said with a gruff chuckle. “Have a look around and ask Seth for anything. We’ll promise not to scam you.” He motioned toward a rack of polished armor, and weapons glinting in the flickering light.
Mitchell and Lovel moved through the shop slowly, their shoes creaking against the wooden floor. Racks of weapons lined the walls — swords of every length, spears tipped with polished steel, heavy maces, axes, bows, and even strange curved blades that shimmered faintly in the firelight. It was a treasure trove for anyone with a love of sharp objects, and Mitchell’s eyes gleamed like a kid walking into a candy store.
“Holy crap,” He muttered, stopping in front of a display of long swords with intricate patterns etched into the blades. “Look at these, Lovel. They’re beautiful.”
He reached out, fingers brushing one of the hilts. The weapon was heavier than he expected, its balance almost perfect. He gave it a small swing, the blade cutting cleanly through the air with a satisfying whoosh.
Karl glanced over from his forge and snorted. “Careful, boy. You break it, you buy it. And trust me, that one’s not cheap.”
Mitchell looked at the tag tied to the hilt — and froze. “Fifty silver?!” He stared at Karl in disbelief. “For one sword?!”
Karl shrugged, wiping his hands on a rag. “Good steel costs money. You want a toy, go find the street vendors. You want something that won’t snap when you hit a beast’s hide, you pay the price.”
Mitchell groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I could probably buy half the Hollow Hearth with that…”
Lovel, meanwhile, had moved silently toward the weapon racks near the back. Her golden eyes scanned the rows of blades and tools until she stopped before a small stand holding knives and bows. She crouched, running her fingers along the smooth handle of a short, curved dagger.
“These,” she said softly, her voice barely audible above the sound of the forge.
Mitchell looked over, still half in disbelief from the prices. “What, those? They’re… bronze, right?”
She nodded. “Two of these. And a bow… with several arrows.”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Practical choice. Most girls want fancy ornaments or shiny crossguards.”
Lovel straightened, meeting his gaze evenly. “I want something light and fast. Something I can rely on.”
Seth, who had been organizing a shelf of iron ingots nearby, chuckled. “Smart one, that’s for sure. Not many rookies ask for bows. You sure you can handle it?”
Lovel’s tail flicked once, her tone calm but certain. “I’m already heavily trained.”
Mitchell smiled faintly at her confidence. “Guess that’s settled, then. She gets her knives and bow…” He paused, turning to Karl. “And I need something better than my old bronze sword.”
At that, Seth put down the ingots and wiped his hands. “Got it. I’ll fetch them.”
He disappeared into a side room filled with weapon racks and the faint gleam of freshly polished steel. The rhythmic clinking of metal echoed from behind the door as he began rummaging through the inventory.
Karl leaned against the counter, crossing his thick arms. “You’ve got decent taste, I’ll give you that. But don’t expect miracles for twelve silver and forty-five bronze.”
Mitchell sighed, resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But I at least want something stronger than my previous sword.”
Karl smirked under his beard. “Then let’s hope Seth finds something sturdy enough to survive you.”
Mitchell shot him a dry look. “You know, your customer service really hasn’t improved.”
“Neither has your luck,” Karl shot back.
Lovel glanced between them, her expression neutral but her eyes warm with amusement. She reached out, touching one of the knives she’d chosen, testing its balance. The blade caught the light like a shimmer of flame before she carefully set it back down.
Mitchell exhaled and leaned against the counter, staring into the faint orange glow of the forge.
The sound of footsteps signaled Seth’s return. He came back carrying a sheathed blade and a wrapped bundle of arrows, setting them on the counter with a dull thud.
“All right,” Seth said, nodding toward Mitchell. “Found a short sword forged from iron. Better balance, sharper edge. Won’t chip unless you’re stupid.”
Mitchell grinned, stepping forward to examine it. “Good. Because I’m just the right amount of stupid to need that.”
Karl chuckled from his forge. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said today.”
Lovel looked up from the knives and bowed slightly to the assistant. “Thank you.”
Seth waved it off, smiling faintly. “Don’t thank me till you know the price.”
Mitchell froze mid-grin. “Wait—what’s the—”
Seth tapped the hilt of the sword. “Four silver and twenty-three copper for everything.”
Mitchell groaned, running a hand through his hair. “There goes a third of our pay…”
Lovel tilted her head, her calm tone cutting through his grumbling. “Better to spend for survival than to die with full pockets.”
Mitchell blinked, then laughed softly. “You know what? Fair point.”
He turned to Karl. “All right. We’ll take them all—the sword, the knives, the bow, and arrows.”
Karl gave a small, approving nod. “Good choices. Let’s get them wrapped up before you change your mind.”
Seth then rested his forearm on the counter and gave them both a once-over. “So, anything else you two are looking for?”
Mitchell, who had been weighing the short sword in his hand, glanced at Lovel, then back at the assistant. “Yeah. Now that you mention it… armor. We’ve got weapons sorted out, but this old half-plate of mine’s one solid punch away from splitting open. You got anything decent that won’t break what’s left of our budget?”
Seth scratched at the stubble along his jaw, thinking. “Depends on what you call a budget.”
Mitchell grimaced. “Eight silver and twenty-five copper left.” He did the math in his head, sighing. “Yeah, not great.”
Lovel tilted her head slightly. “How much armor can that buy?”
Seth gave a slow nod toward the racks at the back of the shop. “If you’re not picky, I can set you up with full leather. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do the job—sturdy, light, and easy to move in. Replaces that half chestplate you’ve been wearing with a proper full one, plus leg guards, shoulder pads, bracers, boots, and helmets. Basic protection for both of you.”
Mitchell’s brows lifted. “Full sets? For both of us?”
“Yeah,” Seth said, glancing at Karl, who gave a small grunt of approval from the forge. “Two complete sets will run you about four silvers and fifty-four coppers. I’ll even throw in a couple of belts for your weapons, call it a deal.”
Mitchell leaned on the counter, rubbing his chin. He could already feel his coin pouch getting lighter in his mind. “That’d leave us with, what, three silvers and seventy-one copper?” he muttered.
Lovel looked at him quietly. “That is still enough to eat and rest.”
“Yeah,” Mitchell said after a beat, his shoulders sagging in mock defeat. “Guess you’re right. Protection’s worth more than comfort. Better to have armor and cheap food than the other way around.”
Seth grinned, clearly amused by his reluctance. “Smart choice. I’ll go grab them.”
He disappeared into the back room, the clatter of metal buckles and the rustle of leather filling the silence. Karl gave a grunt of approval from the forge without looking up. “About time you invested in something that’ll keep your insides where they belong.”
Mitchell shot him a sideways look. “You’ve got such a comforting way of putting things, you know that?”
Karl smirked under his beard. “Wouldn’t want you getting dumb idea.”
Moments later, Seth returned with both sets slung over his broad shoulders—one slightly larger and heavier, dyed a dark brown for Mitchell, and a sleeker, lighter version in black and gray for Lovel. He dropped them on the counter with a heavy thud.
“Male set’s reinforced around the chest and shins,” he said, gesturing to each piece as he spoke. “Female one’s made for flexibility and speed. Nothing enchanted, but the leather’s good quality, won’t tear easily unless you’re dumb enough to fight another Bone Ape bare-handed.”
Mitchell lifted the chestplate of his set, testing the weight. It was sturdy but not too heavy, the smell of oiled leather rich and fresh. “Feels solid,” He admitted, nodding approvingly.
Lovel examined her own set, her hands moving carefully over the stitching and seams. “Light,” she murmured. “And the material is soft on the inside.”
“Lined with treated cloth,” Seth explained. “Won’t chafe as much when you move around. Trust me, it makes a difference after a few hours on the road.”
Mitchell exhaled, a tired grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “All right, we’ll take them. You’ve drained our wallets dry, but at least we won’t die.”
Seth chuckled, counting the coins Mitchell placed on the counter. “Four silvers, fifty-four copper. Pleasure doing business.” He set the coins aside and added, “You can use the fitting room behind the forge if you want to try them on before heading out.”
Mitchell glanced at Lovel, who nodded slightly. “Might as well. I’m not carrying all this through town just to find out it doesn’t fit.”
Seth smiled faintly. “Good call. Go on, I’ll box up the rest of your gear.”
As they carried the armor toward the fitting area, the flickering light of the forge danced across their new weapons and gear. For the first time since they’d arrived in Varnhelm, the mismatched pair looked more like real adventurers }.
And for Mitchell, that realization sparked something warm beneath the fatigue. ‘Finally moving up in the world,’ He thought with a grin but then lost that grin quickly. ‘But I still doubt this will be enough.’
Mitchell followed Lovel toward the small side room behind the forge, a cramped space sectioned off with a heavy curtain. A cracked mirror leaned against one wall, and a few hooks hung beside it for armor fittings. The flicker of forge light bled through the curtain, painting everything in warm gold and red.
Mitchell set his new armor down on a bench and stretched, grimacing as his ribs protested. “Man… I feel like I’ve been stabbed.”
Lovel turned her head toward him, her calm expression betraying a flicker of amusement. “That is because you were stabbed, Master. Several times.”
He blinked, then groaned with a grin. “Yeah… thanks for reminding me.”
While Mitchell unbuckled his half-plate, Lovel quietly began to slip into her new leather gear. The faint rustle of straps and buckles filled the silence between them, broken only by the steady thump of Karl’s hammer outside.
Mitchell glanced at her reflection in the mirror, not out of indecency but curiosity — seeing how focused she was, checking every strap and plate with precision.
She looked… different. The smooth black and gray leather hugged her frame neatly, the shoulder guards and arm bracers fitting perfectly. The reinforced boots added a touch of sharpness to her, and the bow strapped across her back completed the look. She moved her arms experimentally, nodding with approval as the leather flexed easily.
“Wow,” Mitchell said, unable to hide the admiration in his tone. “You look… kind of badass.”
Lovel blinked, glancing over at him. “Bad… ass?”
He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It means good. Really good. Like, you look ready to punch a dragon in the face.”
She tilted her head, clearly unsure if he was teasing her or being serious. “…I would prefer to shoot the dragon instead.”
Mitchell grinned. “Fair enough.”
When he finally donned his own armor, the difference was night and day. Gone was the dented half-chest plate and replaced by a full dark-brown set of leather reinforced with metal studs along the chest and forearms. It fit snugly without restricting movement, though the chest piece pinched a little when he bent over.
He looked at himself in the mirror, flexing his shoulders. “Not bad. Feels weird, though.”
From outside, Seth’s voice called through the curtain. “Hey! Are you done playing dress-up yet?”
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Almost! We’ll hurry up!” Mitchell finished up and stepped out, adjusting his new shoulder guards.
Karl, while working, looked at the kid and released a nod. “Heh, not bad, kid. Looks like you finally look like an adventurer.”
Mitchell smiled. “Thank you.”
Lovel then stepped out behind him, her calm composure drawing several glances. Even Karl paused mid-hammer, his brow rising slightly.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the dwarf muttered. “That armor suits her. Most folks end up looking like stuffed sausages in leather, but she looks nice in it.”
Seth nodded, crossing his arms. “Agreed. She moves like she’s worn armor before.”
Lovel bowed her head slightly, her tail swaying once behind her. “Thank you. The balance is good. I can move freely.”
Mitchell shot her a playful look. “See? I told you, you look great.”
Her ears flicked slightly, and she turned away, pretending to inspect her bow. “It is functional,” she said, but the faint pink tint on her cheeks betrayed her composure.
Seth grinned, clearly amused. “Heh, you’ve got yourself a keeper there, kid. Don’t let her do all the fighting next time.”
Mitchell chuckled. “I’ll try. But no promises. She’s much better at this adventuring stuff than me.”
Karl leaned his hammer against the anvil, eyeing them both. “You two might actually survive a few more quests now. Just don’t go picking fights with anything taller than yourself.”
“Yeah, I’ll add that to the list,” Mitchell said dryly. “Right under ‘don’t almost die.’”
Lovel adjusted her gloves, testing the grip. “Are we finished here, Master?”
“Almost,” Mitchell said, glancing at Seth. “We still have a little coin left. About three silvers and some change, right?”
Seth nodded, counting on his fingers. “Three silvers and seventy-one copper, give or take. Not much, but enough to grab a few essentials—food, clothes, camping supplies or maybe a repair kit.”
Mitchell rubbed his chin. “Camping supplies, huh? That’s probably smart.” He looked down and thought and wondered if that was needed. “We might one day spend the night adventuring. It would be good to have supplies if we ever spent the night outside the walls.”
Karl grinned. “Now that’s the spirit. Spend smart, fight smart. Or at least die with clean armor.”
Mitchell groaned. “You really know how to motivate a guy.”
Lovel’s voice came soft but steady beside him. “Then we shall go find a store that sell these things next?”
“Yeah,” He said, nodding with a grin. “Camping supplies first, then food. We’ll stock up before we hit another quest.”
Karl gave them both a small salute with his hammer. “Try not to get yourselves killed before you can come back to buy better gear. And tell the guild that Karl’s forge still makes the best steel this side of Varnhelm.”
Mitchell laughed as he and Lovel turned toward the door. “Will do, old man. Take care Seth.”
Seth smirked as he handed over a quiver with their arrows. “Good luck out there, you two.”
Lovel gave a small bow. “Thank you for your service.”
With that, the pair stepped back out into the sunlight. The clang of the forge faded behind them, replaced by the buzz of Varnhelm’s streets. Their new armor creaked faintly as they walked, their weapons gleaming at their sides.
Mitchell took a deep breath of the smoky air, a grin spreading across his face. “All right, Lovel. Let’s see what other things we can buy today.”
—------------------------------------
The streets of Varnhelm were alive with the sound of trade, clattering wagons, hawking vendors, and the chatter of citizens moving between markets.
Mitchell and Lovel strolled side by side, both still adjusting to the feel of their new armor. The oiled leather creaked softly with each movement, and the weight of their new weapons at their sides gave both of them a small but satisfying reminder that they were no longer under-equipped amateurs.
“Well,” Mitchell muttered as they passed another row of shops selling fruits, clothes, and strange trinkets. “We’ve got swords, knives, and armor. All that’s left now are supplies, food, and whatever else keeps people alive when something out there decides to use them as a chew toy.”
Lovel nodded silently, scanning the signs above each shop. Her golden eyes glinted beneath the day light, always alert, always watchful. “Most adventurers carry rope, tents, and rations,” she said softly. “And clean water. Without those, even a short journey can become dangerous.”
“Good point,” Mitchell said with a sigh. “Let’s hope this city’s got something that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”
They wandered for a few more minutes before Lovel suddenly stopped, her ears twitching as her gaze settled on a small building tucked between a tailor’s shop and a cobbler’s. Its sign was old and crooked, painted with the words “The Rusty Pack — General Goods & Adventuring Supplies.”
Mitchell stared at it for a moment. The shopfront looked… questionable. The window display was cluttered with random items — ropes, pots, vials, dried herbs, and even what looked suspiciously like a stuffed goblin’s head.
He exhaled slowly. “Well… it says ‘general goods.’ Maybe we’ll find something useful inside.”
Seeing no better option, they pushed the door open.
A small bell jingled overhead as they stepped in, and immediately they were hit with a mix of scents — old wood, herbs, oil, and something vaguely metallic. The shop’s interior was a maze of shelves stacked high with adventuring equipment: lanterns, dried meats, coils of rope, small tents, vials of oil, and more.
Behind the counter stood a woman — perhaps in her thirties, though her mischievous grin made her seem younger. She had bright orange hair tied into a messy bun, goggles perched on her head, and an apron covered in dust, scorch marks, and what looked suspiciously like glitter.
“Welcome, welcome!” She said, throwing her arms open theatrically. “New customers! Ah, and adventurers, no less — I can smell the soot and monster blood from here!”
Mitchell blinked. “That… might actually still be on us.”
The woman laughed brightly, hands on her hips. “All the better! Means you’ve earned your coin. I’m Rinna, owner, manager, and occasional test subject of the Rusty Pack! What can I tempt you with today? Rope? Potions? Anti-goblin spray?”
Lovel tilted her head slightly. “Anti-goblin spray?”
Rinna leaned closer with a sly grin. “Doesn’t work. But it sells.”
Mitchell rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure what to say. “Uh… we just need the basics. Food, water, maybe camping gear.”
“Ah, survivalists!” Rinna said with delight. “Now that I can help with.” She gestured grandly toward a shelf packed with flasks, tinderboxes, and folded tents. “You, good sir, look like the type who’d pack a full week’s worth of food and still forget rope. Am I right?”
Mitchell froze. “...Okay, that was oddly specific.”
Lovel’s tail flicked in faint amusement. “He tends to forget things,” She said, her tone polite but teasing.
Rinna gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “A woman of sense! You’re the practical one, aren’t you? Hunters always are. I can see it in your eyes, the sharp focus of someone who’s had to skin their own dinner at least once!”
Mitchell’s face twisted in mild horror. “I’m… suddenly not sure if that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” Lovel replied simply, walking past him toward the shelves.
Mitchell sighed but smiled faintly. He watched her move with quiet confidence, every motion deliberate, efficient, experienced. She inspected ropes by their weave, examined the water flasks for cracks, and smelled the dried food for freshness.
Rinna followed her every move, fascinated. “Oho! Someone knows what they’re doing! Tell you what, sweetheart, if you keep shopping like that, I’ll give you a discount just for making me feel useful.”
Mitchell chuckled under his breath, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I think she’s got this handled. I’d probably just buy whatever looked shiny and regret it later.”
Lovel didn’t even glance back. “Then it is good that I am the one choosing.”
Rinna let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I like you two. He’s all talk, and you’re all sense.”
Mitchell felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Hey, I have sense. I just… outsource it to her.”
“Smart man,” Rinna said, giving him a wink.
By the time Lovel was finished, she had stacked an impressive pile of goods on the counter — two bedrolls, a small canvas tent, flint and tinder, rope, two waterskins, a set of cooking utensils, and several days’ worth of dried food.
Rinna whistled low. “Efficient and thorough. That’ll keep you alive for a good while.” She began tallying the items with a small brass abacus, muttering softly under her breath. “Let’s see… tent, rations, tools, rope, bedrolls… Comes to one silver and twenty-three bronze.”
Mitchell pulled his pouch from his belt and sighed. “Good thing we didn’t blow it all on weapons.”
He handed her the coins, and Rinna slipped them into a small lockbox with a grin. “Pleasure doing business with you! If you two ever need anything else, maps, or something that explodes — I’m your girl.”
Mitchell blinked. “Explodes?”
Rinna shrugged casually. “Don’t ask. But if you survive long enough, you’ll find out.”
Lovel adjusted the strap of the new supply bag on her shoulder, calm as ever. “Thank you for your help,” She said politely.
Rinna gave a mock salute. “Anytime, darling. And do me a favor, don’t die too quickly. Repeat customers are good for business.”
Mitchell chuckled as they stepped back out into the street, the sunlight greeting them once more. “Well,” he said, glancing at Lovel, “I think that woman might be crazy… but at least she’s efficient.”
Lovel nodded. “She reminds me of you.”
Mitchell stopped mid-step. “...Wait. What?”
She kept walking, her tail swaying behind her. “Loud, odd, but strangely useful.”
He groaned but couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she said simply.
And with their new supplies in hand and the scent of the city thick in the air, the two adventurers continued down Varnhelm’s bustling streets, ready to see what else the day, and their next journey, would bring.
Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.
