[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hSbxgyH.png[/img]
[sup][@Pyromania99][@Rune_Alchemist][/sup][/center]
Isidore was just as surprised as Augusta when Leuca spoke up, though his own expression didn’t change when the small Sirithen decided that she wished to head for the smithy. It was a misinterpretation of his own intent: he had planned on scouting out Gloomhaven after the business with Sorcha, the Urutha queen, and the rest of the politics was concluded, as Sorcha had already proven herself…less capable of easily locating her charge. The cavern was large, and the people were many; he had been prepared to simply wait where the Fae-blessed swordswoman had left them. But Augusta already had plans to split off, and now Leuca was feeling antsy too…

It was unfortunate, that he ended up winning a fight he hadn’t even intended to pick. The man shrugged slightly as he caught Augusta’s eye, before saying, [b]“Don’t get lost on the way back.”[/b]

And with that, he took Leuca by the hand and brought her into the heat of the smithy. The savoury aroma of cooked food fused with the stink of sweat and the sting of heated metal, reminiscent of the industrial area that bordered the home of his childhood. No oily fumes to choke out the throat though, nor any fat-fuck security guards to spit in your direction. Charming, that such a homogeneous society didn’t immediately treat foreigners with suspicion. Or perhaps in a world with such extremes of beauty and ugliness, these slight differences weren’t all that significant?

Nothing within the smithy particularly called out to Isidore though. Already armed to the teeth as he was, the man came here with the gaze of a fence, trying to gauge the value of the goods while masking his own relative ignorance with a veneer of calculating cool. Shields didn’t gleam, and there were no sign of projectile weapons. Swords mostly, and mostly of a uniform size as well. The armor looked to be of a sparser construction compared to the Apostles, but it could be worth considering regardless. He glanced over at Leuca again. She would’ve been frozen if not for the fur cloak, and even then, her outfit was hardly presentable.

Well, considering the state of his own clothing, bloodied and cut up as it was over the course of three days of rough travel, Isidore shouldn’t be too judgmental about it.

[b]“We’re here for trade,”[/b] he spoke, retrieving the hunk of silver from his backpack. The ore settled on the counter with a definitive thunk, Isidore’s hand still resting over top. [b]“Give us a fair price for this, and there will be more in the future.”[/b] A pause, a crick of the neck. He couldn’t fault her for wanting a weapon of her own; the longsword didn’t suit her frame. [b]“And Leuca, pick whatever you’d like. From my experience though, a knife has more use than a sword, especially when you’ve two.”[/b]

One to throw, one to stab. One to attack, one to defend. And both for cutting up anything from wood to meat to vegetables. Small as she was, the Sirithen may be better off point-blank than in one-step.

[b]“And, miss, I must ask. Why are blades red here?”[/b]