10th of Ashan 722
Woe prepared for his evening walk, dispelling the identity he was known for, and calling to his power to assume anonymity. He became Robert Sanderling, ash blonde and rugged. He wore a long-sleeved, blue-gray silk jacket covered him to well above his knees and was loosely tied with onyx string at the bottom right side. The sleeves of his jacket are quite wide and reach down to his wrists, they're decorated with a single cloth of onyx thread lining at the sleeve ends. The jacket had a deep v-neck which revealed part of the simple, pale green silk shirt worn below it and was worn with a black cloth neck tie, held in place by a flint broach. The necktie was made of satin. His black pants were simple and quite wide and reach down to his hard leather boots. The boots were made from a tough leather, but are otherwise a common design.
It'd only been a tentrial or so, since Robert returned from the other side of the island and settled back into his adopted home of Egilrun. It seemed as if his sought after solitude wouldn't be an obstacle as he returned. Iago mostly ignored him, and few of his other associates and friends even seemed to have notice he was gone in the first place. He supposed his preparation of them for the departure had softened it slightly. Or perhaps he hadn't been gone as long as it felt. Toutouye even seemed to have had his fill of the company of other people, and hid in his treehouse in the orchard. So Robert was given the gift of solitude, for the first time in a few tentrials.
He used it to wander on down to the blue beaches of Egilrun, to the east. One might question his tactic for finding isolation, when there were many congregated on that beach today. Robert would've answered that one need not be alone in order to feel isolated, or apart from others. In fact, being among people, even as exuberant as these were, one could feel quite isolated if they didn't share a similar spirit.
Robert walked along the beach, looking aside at the many biqaj travellers who'd landed in their longboats, and were unloading what looked like all manner of goods. He sighed. Egilrun desperately needed a proper harbor, and a customs office to boot. The next time he went to the council, perhaps he'd raise that issue. Who knew what manner of contraband slipped throught the permeable border, on shallow-drafted longships and boats.
Robert took it upon himself to investigate, invoking his anonymity so that he would not be recognized on his walk. Most of the time, he enjoyed not being recognized, and so had cultivated that identity that was forgettable, that of Robert Sanderling. He'd almost grown attached to the identity, as if it almost was a separate aspect of who he was. There was merit to that idea, and one that deserved exploration. But later. Robert saw they were selling some hardware from the longboats themselves. Normally this would not have aroused his interest or suspicion, but one of the sailors had a distinct vahanic accent.
Robert stopped in his tread through the sand, to approach this longboat. He looked at the Quacian Biqaj to see if he recognized him at all. Or any aspect of his being. He saw a theocratic scar upon his neck, one o fpotency. Robert looked to him, and spoke in perfect Vahanic, "Ola, Did you sail from Quacia after the war? Or after the King's Wounding?"
The Biqaj looked up at him, his eyes wide. Then he smiled, and reached for Robert's hand to shake. "Aye after the Wounding. Much in the way of treasure was despoiled... some of the finest Quacian relics have I brought for you today!" Saying this, the sailor merchant swept aside the tarp from his longboat's prow, and revealed what he had. Trinkets, trifles, mostly. There were a few weapons and other relics related to the Theocratum, but... Then Robert noticed it.
The unmistakable mark of craftsmanship that was Perfeita's. A sword from the Grandmaster's own shop. Could it have been? Was it? Oh, he thought it was! Perfeita's own make and signature. The faldrunium blades that had carved the Creep from Quacia. He looked on it, with internally mingling fascination and wonder. How had it arrived here of all places, on the other side of the world?
Robert's face was a mask of indifference, however, as his eyes trailed over the blade, and to other things. Eve could be heard to speak into his mind. He held her bronze athame that was her anchor on his belt, and so was rarely without her. Oh, how quaint. You know, when I was in the Theocratum, our people had more taste. But these? Golden cups are not an excuse for gaudiness and lack of taste.
"Where did you get that?" Robert asked, pointing toward the sword. The blade was certainly one of those he'd commissioned for the court of Quacia. How some salt-sputtering smuggler happened by it was beyond his recknoning. It was entirely possible, however, that the smuggler simply didn't know.
"Ahh senor, I see you have an eye for quality." He said, taking the blade up in his hands. Its scabbard was one wrapped in salamander leather, fire-warded against the intense heat of the faldrunium blade. The hilt was similarly warded against its fire, disallowing the fire to heat the crossguard and handle. It had a simple tsuba guard, with a hand and a half grip that was most comfortable to be weilded in one hand, but could be in two. The blade itself, bore the enscriptions of Perfeita's shop in Quacia. As the Biqaj unsealed the blade from its sheath, its light roared to life in front of Robert's eyes.
He wanted it, he knew. But he kept calm on the surface, and wasn't moved when others came to view the blade. He still dobuted that the Biqaj, as much as he might be aware that he had something remarkable, knew exactly what he had in his hands. "A simple trick of alchemy." He said, waving it off. "Show me something else."
The smuggler, however, seemed eager to rid himself of the item. Perhaps Robert 's visage hadn't been as inscrutable as he thought? Or the smuggler had happened by the sword through unscrupulous means. Robert tilted his head, looking through the rest of the trifles, while the biqaj held onto the scabbard hopefully, his eyes rapidly changing color from one end of the spectrum to the other. Woe always found that aspect of biqajness fascinating, and called back to his experience as a former Empath mage.
"I will let you have it, for thirty onyx."
Robert shot him a funny look. "For the price of having Faldrunium shipped and made into a new weapon, one tailor-made to my specifications, I could have it for half of that."
"Twenty five onyx!" He shouted, hoping to gather a crowd and perhaps drag them into a bidding war. But the people of Egilrun had no use or interest in weapons of war. They were simple craftsmen and minded their own business. They had little use for adventures of the kind that required such a weapon. Robert knew this, and he was not intimidated by the smuggler's vocalizations. He stood his ground, and considered, giving false hope to the smuggler for just a moment before shaking his head.
"No, I'm sure I could find one just like that for ten." He turned his foot on its heel, but didn't get to pivot before the smuggler shouted again.
"Twenty onyx?!" He seemed very eager to get rid of it, which made Robert all the more suspicious. Why was he so desperate to part with such a treasure? Was there something wrong with it? No, he doubted a smuggler such as he could even ruin the item if he tried.
Ultimately, Robert shrugged, and considered the weapon, looking at it with an appraising eye. It was worth more than twenty onyx, to be sure, but he'd bartered him down. It'd put him in tighter straits, but then, he supposed it was worth it to have that piece of memorabilia. And of course a weapon that was so useful and powerful.
"Twenty onyx." Robert said. And the merchant shook the mortalborn's arms and shoved the sword into his waiting hands.
"No regret this purchase, senor." He skipped happily back to his boat. Looking very relieved to have gotten rid of it.
Robert regarded the sword with skepticism, but then ultimately gave a shrug. He supposed he'd find out later why it was such a hot item.
Off Topic
I'm deducting the WP that Peg said this would cost me. My capstone, For Five Nels More, allow me to purchase/have an item made without considering its material cost.
