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At the least, the armoury is easy to find. You simply have to follow the rhythmic vibrations along any wall in the fortress. From dawn to midnight, the fires of the furnace roar. Not to mention the heat, the hot sun against the black stone heat from the outside, while industry heats it from within. Your shirt clings to your back as you descend deeper and deeper down the winding stairs in search for a sword.
Industry is at the heart of Zod empire, even out here in these desolate wastes her citizens seek to spread her ideals. Molten lava flows from deep within the earth to meet the need of the hundred craftsmen that work in the forge. From swords, to nails, and even glass work, their goods are mass produced to feed a hungry military. For the garrison stationed here, but also for the smaller fortress the comprise the great spine. Today they seem busy at work forging heavy knight armour. From the report you read in the Barons throne room, he wants every Knight suit to have replacement parts ready, just in case there is a full scale mobilization of forces.
Despite the sounds and heat of industry, the men here don't actually seem to be working very hard. You wonder if perhaps they too fail to see the purpose…
With so many workers going to and from, you walk past the clerks at the armoury, down to the forge, look for where they keep the swords, and quickly find an entire pile of them. The worker who seems to be in charge of racking them can't keep up. Further more, he is being distracted by a hooded man. Simply having no patience to wait your turn, you slid in between them and start hassling the worker into giving you a proper sword. The sword clerk is both confused and flustered by your sudden appearance and demands.
"Sorry sir, but I cannot issue you a sword! I don't even know who you are… If you need a blade speak with someone in the armoury over yonder…" Unfortunately, his reasonable advisement falls on deaf ears. You have come for a sword, and you don't plan to leave without one. Does this worm even know who you are?
"Whats wrong with these here?" Says the hooded man who motions to the pile of swords. You don't like being interrupted while dressing down someone, but answer him anyway.
"They are unbalanced and crude, I can tell just by looking at them. Blades made by mold for the common rank and file soldier. I want a blade befit my position."
"Interesting" The hooded man rubes his chin "Then perhaps we can help each other out. I have come seeking a high quality sword myself, and have the proper paperwork. Yet I know nothing of blades, perhaps if you lend me your expertise I can return the favour."
