“Happens to the best of us,” Tarrik replied tolerantly. “There’s a cleaning solution in the pails on the third shelf up, far left side. Should be some rags on top of the lid. You can use that on your armor and on the Sen-teel, but don’t use it for your bow. It’ll do terrible things to wood.”
“What should I use to clean my bow?” Khollo asked, moving towards the shelf Tarrik had indicated.
“You should be able to get the worst of the dirt off with a wet rag. Let me know if you need something else,” Tarrik called over his shoulder as he turned back to his work.
Khollo scooped up a handful of rags and removed the lid from one of the pails of cleaning solvent. A powerful cloying smell assaulted his nostrils, and his eyes watered with tears. Khollo took the pail off the shelf and sat down on the floor of the smithy, drawing the first half of the Sen-teel from its sheath. Sighing, he then dipped one of the rags into the pail and began scrubbing the blade carefully.
It took half an hour of elbow grease and foul-smelling solution to return the first half of the Sen-teel to its original, shining state. Khollo admired the play of light on the blade, then set it to one side carefully and picked up the other half of the Sen-teel. This blade took even longer, and Khollo’s arms began to ache with the redundant scrubbing motion.
How is your cleaning going? Kanin asked Khollo at one point. The dragon’s voice sounded incredibly smug to Khollo’s accusing ears.
It’s going, Khollo replied heavily. How are your scales looking?
Stunning, as always. Kanin told him. I’m thinking about rewarding myself with a nap.
You do that, Khollo replied. I’ve only got several hours of polishing left to do.
Have fun.
Khollo grunted, causing Tarrik to look up, a question in his eyes. “Sorry,” the young warrior said to the smith. “I was talking to Kanin.”
“Oh,” Tarrik said, returning to his work.
Khollo sighed and took up the rag again, scrubbing away at the Sen-teel. There were a few especially persistent stains near the tip of the blade that took some time and much careful work to remove. Finally, both halves of the Sen-teel were gleaming, so much so that Khollo could see his face reflected in the metal when he held it aloft.
“Not bad,” he muttered. “Not bad at all.” He set the blades aside and stripped off his armor, dipping another rag into Tarrik’s cleaning solution.
Two hours later, Khollo was still working away at the armor, in a nearly comatose state at this point. He kept cleaning and cleaning, though his mind wandered to many other topics and his eyes roved around the smithy. Finally, Tarrik stumped over and stood over him, frowning.
“You’ll wear a hole in that if you aren’t careful,” he observed drily.
Khollo looked down at the armor in his hands and realized that it was shining brilliantly, scattering sunlight around the inside of the smithy. “Oh, sorry,” Khollo muttered, setting the latest rag aside. “I got a little distracted. Lost track of what I was doing for a few minutes.”
“I noticed,” Tarrik rumbled. He gestured to the armor in Khollo’s hands. “You know, now would be a good time to add a personal crest if you wanted.”
“What?”
“While the shoulder piece is clean, I mean. That way it doesn’t flake off with dirt and such later.”
“What kind of crest would I use though?” Khollo asked curiously.
Tarrik shrugged. “Whatever you like.”
Khollo glared up at the smith balefully. “That doesn’t help me narrow the options down much.”
“Well, a lot of lords choose animals,” Tarrik said, frowning with concentration. “And it’s usually done all in one color. Symbols are less common, but not unheard of.”
A memory stirred in Khollo’s head, something he had seen on Ethgalin. “Do you have writing materials handy?” he asked suddenly.
“Got an idea, have you?” Tarrik asked, smiling. “On the table over there, same as always.”
Khollo got to his feet and crossed the smithy in a few short strides, drawing the attention of the other two smiths. They set aside their projects and watched curiously as Khollo scooped up a writing stick and dragged a sheet of parchment towards him, chewing on his lip.
He did not recall how the design went precisely, but he was able to achieve a fairly accurate replica. A cross shape, the left and right arms sweeping up and out like dragon wings. Above and below, two roughly leaf-bladed protrusions, the head and tail, he guessed.
Tarrik peered over Khollo’s shoulder intently, eying the sketch. “Interesting,” he murmured. “A stylized dragon, no doubt.”
“Yeah,” Khollo muttered. “Do you think you can do this?”
“Oh, certainly,” Tarrik said, holding up Khollo’s armor and frowning at the oval shaped shoulder plate. “That will be an ideal design for this plate here. What color did you want it in, Khollo?”
“Green,” Khollo said without hesitation.
“Like Kanin,” Tarrik agreed, nodding. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” Khollo said, stepping back from the worktable.
“No problem. But while I’m working on this, you might see to your bow and get it cleaned up. If Janis saw all of the dirt and grime on that thing he’d kill you.”
So would Ezraan, Khollo thought, returning to his corner of the smithy and picking up the unstrung bow. After all, it was his bow first.
Khollo found it hard to focus on polishing the bow, what with Tarrik muttering to himself and rattling around, looking for a suitable can of paint. Then he set about arranging Khollo’s armor so it would not move while he was painting, which proved to be a difficult task.
