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Thoroquo has the right of it. You do need a new sword. You peruse the shop’s completed offerings, finding the selection varied enough to not warrant a separate commission. The smith’s words of the need for elegance in swordsmanship did strike a chord with you, so you find yourself leaning more towards the bravo’s staple. A few are far too slim; you are not keen on repeating your earlier follies of ruining a fine blade in a man’s dying. Others are too broad or unwieldy, parrying weapons or Westerosi meat cleavers. You find a good compromise in a slim yet well supported blade that reminds you of a sleek war galley. It will do. You tell the smith as much.
“It suits you,” Thoroquo agrees. “But I would not go so unarmored as young fights so risk. So many have bled out over fashion. I say to myself, ‘why did the poor lads not seek Thoroquo so that they might be beautiful and still live?’ Armor should aid your beauty, not take from it. Is this not so?”
“You have the right of it. <span class="mu-i">If</span> you can craft something to my liking,” you say.
“Oho. A challenge,” Thoroquo claps his hands and grins. “Tell me more.”
You start speaking of your vision for a fine breastplate of the sort to be worn by a man worth respecting. Idle time upon the Stepstones meant a good deal of time to hone your visions of the finer things you desired, those items to be indulged in when good fortune finally struck and filled your coin purse with gold. Good fortune has not exactly struck, but you have bent fortune to your will ever so slightly with your treachery, enough so that you can afford at least this much of an indulgence. Thoroquo proves an attentive listener, though he stops you throughout for details.
“This I can do. I will sketch this as you say, then I will work my magics into the metals. Have you a muse for this?” he asks. A woman, he means.
You frown, a haze of forms coming to mind, though none really holding true in your mind. Your eyes turn to Ellyn with her mouth full of orange, offerings of the shop for patrons. Her figure here and now is about as real as it gets. Thoroquo follows your gaze and begins stroking his pronged beard in thought. She finishes her chewing and looks to you in askance...
