“Nothing. I’m good,” I said. “Come on, Tejón, let’s keep going.” Just to be sure, I sent another mental message. You can trust me. I promise. Not yet and no rush. But you can trust me.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Hana made us stop a few times as she ran to the side of the road and collected some herbs she saw. Our progress was marked by a consistent and irritating clanking made by the equipment on Tejón’s back. He didn’t seem to mind, though, and thankfully, the journey was not long.
It was late afternoon when we walked into town and headed up towards Garren’s house. A few of the villagers flagged us down, wanting their kids to see us, and a few even gave us fresh apples. It paid to kill deranged gods.
Alysand was on Garren’s front porch when we met him there, and he stood beside a massive stack of wyvern scales. He had apparently emptied his satchel of holding, and following suit, we unloaded all of our loot as well. There were well over a hundred of the large wyvern scales when we took them out of our own packs and combined them with his. They smelled faintly of rot, but it was mostly a smell of sulfur that clung to them.
The ratkin gear made an equally imposing pile, and as we let the last of the breastplates fall onto the mound, Alyson laughed and asked the obvious. “Did you happen to kill a few enemies on the way here?”
“We did, and sorry, none left for you, Alice,” I replied, giving the gunsinger a pat on the back.
An arched eyebrow told me what he thought of my misuse of his name. But instead of complaining, he simply turned to Garren. “My friend, it seems we have a second commission for you. We need these clean and registered with the town armory.” He gestured to the weapons and armor. “And the rest, please send them on the next wagon to Bridgerun. The scales must go to an armorer there by the name of Wardahl. Here, this should cover the expenses.” He gave the man a handful of coins.
“Wardahl, you said? I can do that. The next is due tomorrow morning. Should be there in a couple of days. Any other message to send to the man?”
“Yes, tell him to keep the wyvern scales for a special project. Two friends of Alysand Deschaney need some armor. And he is a dwarf, not a man.”
Garren scratched his head as if curious about something. “This is all fine and good, gunman, but Benham town doesn’t have an armory.”
“It does now,” was all Alysand offered before turning to us. “I have called in some rations from our favorite cafe. If it is alright with you two, I’d like to leave for Gilsby tonight. Something is off there, and that town is where my hearth and heart live. I’ll not have it damaged.”
I looked to Hana to confirm, but I knew that no matter what, I would follow this ball of yarn.
Hana nodded, and she turned to Pachi, relaying the news.
We began the process of saying goodbye to Garren and his children. One of the boys came up to me and asked if he could hold my axe. I set the handle on the ground and laughed as the minute boy tried to heft it. He was only four or five. Of course, he failed.
“One day, buddy, you’ll be stronger than me,” I encouraged him, messing up his hair.
“And taller, too?”
I glanced over at his father, who was only around five-foot-nine or so. “Maybe. Maybe. But even if you’re not, you can get as strong as you want. Remember that.”
I saw Hana dealing with a little girl who was in tears. In a short time, the girl had come to adore the aspiring ranger, and no surprise there. Even as I looked on, Hana’s gaze caught me, and I blushed a bit and turned away.
Garren came up to me and gave me another surprise. “Madi, what is that on your back?”
I removed the halberd with its hastily cleaved handle and showed it to him.
“It is incredible,” he said. “I’m sure Alysand already told you, but that isn’t made by any human smith. I believe it is dwarven. Our local weapon smiths couldn’t do much with mithril, but it seems well-fitted to the shaft as it is. Let me have it a minute, okay? Just wait here.”
I watched as the lean man ran away to a shed near his house. A few minutes later, once we had packed up our gear and were finally ready to go, he returned.
“This will make for a fine addition,” Garren said. “Some warriors are so fierce they can learn to dual-wield two-handed weapons. My brother was such a fighter, though he is no longer with us. He was born with more muscle than mindfulness.” He gave me back the weapon.
He had taken a saw to the handle, and cut it so it was a perfect length, matching my other axe. The cut had been sanded down, and he’d even wrapped a worn leather cord around the handle, giving it a better grip.
“Thank you, Garren,” I said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll keep it well. And I promise, when I am back in Taelman’s Pond, I will have Wardeen do the honors of putting a finer handle on it.” He was obviously proud of his rapid work.
I quickly inspected the weapon to see if its stats had changed.
The Foreman’s Toothpick
Quality: Epic
Durability 220/220
150-280 damage
+8 Strength, +8 Stamina. +5% Health Regeneration
If dual-wielded, grants an additional +10% Armor Penetration.
Wow, so that had happened. The stats had all been reduced, especially the overall damage, but the addition granted to dual-wielding would be epic. I thanked Garren again and slung the massive axe over my back.
The owner of the cafe gave
