The Grand Weave

I slid through the crowd and made my way into the market. It wasn't hard to retrace the path Sereza led me. I swerved around back to the hidden entrance and activated the enchantment.

Once the passage slid open, I stepped through.

"Sereza? That you?" Ernor called from upstairs.

After tossing back my hood I waited.

"Sereza? You can't come in and not announce yourself. That's ru-oh!" Ernor froze. "Cyrus?"

"Sup. Sorry about sneaking in," I said.

"Uhm, no problem. What's up? Did you want to place another order?" he asked as he relaxed and leaned against the wall.

"Has your brother not come home yet?"

His smile dropped. "No. The little shit is going to get his ass beat for making mother and father worry."

"Sereza said you went to the one family, the rivals of yours. Nothing from them?"

"No, not a bit. But I know they have something to do with it. The fucker Ergen sounded too smug."

His shoulders tensed and he snarled.

"Angry. But facade. Is scared for his brother," Galarion whispered.

"Hey," I said. "No delving into people's minds that we like. Not unless I give permission."

"Not diving, skimming the surface. Open thoughts!" he argued.

I shook my head. I'd deal with Galarion another time. For now, it helped.

"Need you to trust me for a bit. If you can, can you give me one of your weapons? Preferably broken, dinged up, or rusted," I said.

"I-I whut?" He crossed his arms. "Why?"

"I can't tell you, but I'm trying to help. Can you do that or not? If you want, I can give you my spear as collateral."

He blinked slowly and hummed. "The beautiful one you showed last time?"

"I wouldn't call it beautiful, but yeah."

"Let me study it for a day and you got yourself a deal. Can take more than a weapon if you want. Just uh, don't tell Father."

"Don't tell me what, boy?" Daergo bellowed as he slapped his son with his tail. "What schemes ye be running in my forge?"

Ernor glared. "Cyrus wants a broken weapon."

"Broken?" he grumbled. Daergo stared at my face and frowned. "Why would you want something broken? A crafter might think that an insult."

"Intrigued, suspicious, but happy!" Galarion chimed.

I shrugged. "I'm trying to help, but I can't tell you how. I don't want to implicate you in case I get in trouble."

"Cyrus. What are-"

"No. Don't ask. Either I find what I'm looking for or not."

Daergo grumbled something to himself and gestured for me to follow. He led us to the forge proper and searched around in one of the barrels tucked to the side.

"Usually it's scrap metal. These things are too tarnished to repair and sell. Not unless we wanted to be ridiculed. Now let's see..." he moved to another barrel and nearly dived headfirst before popping out with a sword. "This'll do. Not broken, but it's half melted. The sheath is crap too."

He tossed and I snatched it out of the air. I pulled it from its sheath, the thing threatening to come apart at the seams.

"Ugly ain't it. The adventurer who sold it to us got into a fight with a slime. But the craftsmanship is shoddy at best. An amateur probably below their first dozen," Daergo explained.

"Rougher than any I ever made. The crossguard is uneven."

Thwack!

"Don't forget how long it took you to create a dagger, boy."

The two glared at each other, and I summoned Chomperz. He appeared and stopped at eye level.

"Yeah?"

Galarion wiggled, his tentacles feeling like cold streaks across my brain. "Worried!"

Chomperz leaned in close. I looked up, and he extended a claw and shoved it through my head. Galarion yelped, like someone falling onto a wall of windchimes, before Chomperz took his hand out.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Chomp!

He sucked in the sword and dived back into my chest. I rubbed my sternum and frowned.

That was weird.

"Cyrus?" Ernor asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy. Here, I'll come back for it tomorrow," I said as I summoned my spear.

I sent a flicker of mana into the shaft before tossing it. As he extended his arm to catch it, it twisted, curving around his wrist.

"Oh!" he exclaimed.

"Ernor! Why are you taking his spear?" Daergo demanded.

He looked concerned, his eyes widened. But I didn't need Galarion to tell me his thoughts. I could see the hungry look in his eyes.

"Ah, uh. Cyrus agreed to let us study his spear for the sword."

"You idiot!" he shouted. Daergo turned and bowed. "My apologies, Cyrus. My son is overzealous. You can have your spear. I trust in you to return the favor for the sword."

"What's the issue? To be honest, I'm not sure why examining it is beneficial to you anyway," I asked.

Daergo glared until Ernor sighed and untangled his hand. The mana had run out, and the spear stood straight.

"Beyond copying the spear's design, which isn't that impressive. It's the chance to study the enchantments."

"As if you're good enough to copy a dungeon item!" Daergo snorted.

"Rift, actually. Was part of my reward for completing it."

I must have said the magic words because their eyes grew even bigger. Ernor's tail actually wagged.

"Cyrus, my apologies. Take it back."

I stepped away. "Tomorrow. Enjoy. If you're looking for the enchantment itself, it's near the top where the flesh connects to the bone. And the second enchantment is embedded just above that, running vertically from the tip."

They stopped and stared at each other. Ernor checked the spear and scoured the top with his fingers until he stopped where I knew the enchantments were.

"Are you certain, sir?" Daergo whispered.

A small piece of flint appeared in my hand and I flicked it at his head. It bounced off, and his eyes crossed in confusion as he looked down.

"Cut the sir nonsense."

"Of course! But if you need any kind of work done, just ask!"

"Before I go, can you give me the directions to the family you mentioned earlier?"

"Why? Wait, is this why you needed a broken weapon? What are you planning?" Ernor asked as he delicately gave the spear to his father.

"We'll see."

They both frowned at my response, but Ernor gave me the directions. It was closer to the noble district but that didn't surprise me; from the snippets I learned of the family, they were well-established.

I said goodbye and left through the exit. I waited until the crowd parted and nobody was looking before leaving.

Time to have some fun.

----------

Before I entered the store, I ducked between an alleyway and switched my clothes. I was wearing my black hoodie before and while it looked nice, it wasn't the same as the brilliant blue of the Sturmrorex set.

I marveled at how amazing the storm clouds and the winding dragon looked in the sunlight.

Should pay her a visit after I get paid. Could use some pajamas.

I puffed my chest, imitating the peacocks in the square.

Missing something.

Every strand of hair was immaculate, and my clothes were appropriately bright and well-fitted. As I raised my chin, I glared at the reflection.

Now it's perfect.

I looked like an asshole with too much money and not enough fucks to give.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready!" Galarion cheered.

With far too much anger, I pushed the door open and stepped into the white building. Blue metal lined the walls while the marble floor glistened with polish. I could feel the enchantments running through the place, a not-so-insignificant amount of mana radiating from the walls and floor.

There was nobody else in the shop, just an elf behind the counter. She summoned a clipboard to her hand and smiled.

Her green hair was done up in a bun, while her uniform had no creases. The glasses were made of gold and matched the dark-blue and gold outfit.

"Greetings, sir. Welcome to Wintress Emporium. How may I serve?" she greeted, her voice bubbly and polite.

I raised my chin and took the time to observe the first floor. It was lined with displays locked in glass cubes. Instead of weapons and armor, as I expected, they were metal ingots of varying materials; no two displays were the same.

"We'll see about that," I half-snarled.

By the gods, I feel dumb.

The receptionist didn't miss a beat and bowed. "Of course, sir. I can assure you we will do our utmost best to please."

"Annoyed, but intrigued. Cautious and excited!" Galarion said.

Well, it's a start.

"Who's the forgemaster of this establishment? I don't have time to deal with you."

Her smile remained steady. "That would be Master Riven. Unfortunately, he's busy at the moment. But I could introduce you to his apprentice if you would like."

"An apprentice? Really? That's the best you have? Ugh. You're no better than those other felkins."

"My apologies, sir," she said before stopping.

I sensed the mana ring through the necklace hidden under her collar. Her demeanor remained the same, but there was a minute difference in her eyes.

"Ah, sir. Master Riven has agreed to see you personally. If you would follow me, I'll lead you to him."

I grunted, scrunching my nose in disdain. "Fine. Let's get on with this."

She nodded and headed up the stairs. I followed a few feet behind, observing her movements. It was hard to tell but she moved gracefully, each step balancing her weight despite the high heels.

That and her steps have no sound.

"Galarion. Master Riven. Scour his thoughts; don't hold back but make sure you're undetected. And no devouring! Not yet."

He grumbled and I could hear him pout, but I pushed it to the back of my thoughts and observed the second floor.

Here was where they sold real stuff. Scattered throughout the floor in neat but random placements were sets of armor and weapons of various sizes. Nothing too fancy, but the craftsmanship was of high quality.

"Not the worst," I remarked after turning my head away from the display.

"Of course, sir. This is only the second floor. Enchanted goods are for floor three and above."

"And what floor are we heading to?"

"Floor five," she smiled. "Master Revin enjoys the scenery"

Each floor was different and true to her word, the overall quality improved. By floor five, I was thoroughly impressed. These people had just about anything you'd need.

Floor five was different. It lacked the displays of the others and instead expanded into a massive workshop where three people worked. Each person had a pair of people in similar uniforms to the receptionist, but they had an apron and stood at attention to the side.

Apprentices?

She led me past the workshop and to the side. There wasn't a door but a large, entirely black wall. I couldn't detect mana from it, creating a dead zone inside the building.

She stopped and placed her palm on the wall's surface.

Mana rushed from her feet and not her hand.

Diversion.

The door opened, and a wave of cool air rushed out. She stepped to the side and bowed.

"Thank you, Arrana. You may return to your post," rumbled an older voice.

It contained power, a deep, bassy tone, yet it sounded refined, and controlled.

Arrana turned and left, leaving me standing in front of the room as the cold air continued to gush out.

"Do come in."

There was an empty room.

"He's inside! I can taste his thoughts! Curious, cautious. Intrigued!"

I raised my chin higher and stepped through. As soon as I passed through the doorway, the illusion fell away and left me in a surprisingly warm room.

It was more surprising to see the flames swirling around the ceiling and dripping down the walls. The floor was smooth white metal and not on fire.

"Would you like a drink?" Revin asked.

After sitting down, I examined the desk. It wasn't an office table, more like a parlor room covered in neat documents or little nick-nacks.

Revin himself sat nearest to the window, where sunlight streamed in. He looked middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair, a well-kept beard, and manicured eyebrows. He was dressed in a plain black shirt that reached up and covered his neck. Bulky but not too muscular, he stared with brown eyes and raised a bottle.

I regarded him coolly, toning down the arrogance.

There was enough mana in the room to prickle at my skin, and I sensed the patches of enchantments from every corner of the room. Revin himself sported several items on his person that radiated protective magic of some kind.

But he didn't have protection from Galarion. Nobody suspected a mind-magic user to be so bold.

"I'm not here to drink," I stated.

He shrugged and poured golden liquid into a metal cup. The bottle disappeared, and he took a deep sip.

"So what brings you here, ah?" He paused.

"Cyrus."

He smiled. "So what brings you here, Cyrus? What do you require of my emporium?"

I raised my hand over the table. As I tried to summon the sword, I felt resistance. I snorted and powered through it, and the sword appeared.

If Riven was surprised by the overpowering of his enchantments, he didn't show up. He has displayed an annoying level of calm so far.

His hand flowed with white steel, coating his fingers like a glove. He poked at the sheath with one finger and frowned as the leather peeled apart. The melted metal poked out, and his frown deepened.

"This is an awful blade. It's of pathetically low quality. I certainly hope this is not why you're here."

The metal receded and his face soured.

"It is," I grunted. He squared his shoulders and I tisked. "My servant was sent to fetch a blade, a spare, I did not care. What he returned with was this shoddy thing. Nearly cost me my life."

"I see," he said.

"Even more curious! Less suspicious." Galarion added.

Alright, let's see how he reacts to this.

"The fool was sentimental, said he met a family of felkins and thought I would feel happy to support their business. Utterly reprehensible. This was all they offered, and when I confronted them they shooed me away. The gall!"

He smiled and nodded his head sympathetically. "I know of this family. I did not know that their quality was this terrible. Reprehensible indeed."

Here we go.

"They gave some pathetic excuse about their son and shut the door in my face! Not only did they try to kill me, but to insult my honor?"

He continued to nod.

"Galarion?"

"Surprise. Worry, but happiness. He's glad the felkin is taken care of."

"Taken care of?"

"Yes!"

"Continue diving. We'll feed you delicious memories after we're done."

"On it!"