Narsi, with her arms crossed, scoffed at Julan and Rhazii's game. "I don't care which one of them makes 'em come back. They'd better come back either way."

Narsi's grumpy tone belied what they were all worried about in the first place. Rhazii had no response except to curl in his lips and cross his own arms.

When the forgemaster presented the sword, Fendros shouldered his bow to grant his full attention. He reverently pulled the weapon from its scabbard with a dull scrape and held it up vertically. His eyes transfixed on the middle of the blade with a deep fascination.

"How did you do this?" Fendros asked rhetorically. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen." After a short moment testing the sword's weight in his hand, Fendros lowered his eyes to the Nord that made it. "You honour me with this creation, forge master. Does it have a name?"

Fendros' other hand was on his family sword at his waist. He had an idea for what to do with it already.