The Blacksmith Quarter

[Sam]

Dozens of blacksmiths have their shops and forges set up in this small corner of Pentos, all peddling their wares to prospective customers.

[Sam]

Ser Ryam ambles about seeking a weaponsmith of appropriate skill. He picks out one shop, that looks more prominent than most of the others, and enters, waiting politely to be helped.

[Horas]

Intricately crafted weapons and armor hang from the walls of the smithy and the room itself is finely furnished. It is clear that this is the forge of a master smith.

A bald man with a green-dyed beard that has begun to grow in grey runs his eyes over Ryam as he enters the shop.

"Do you speak Valyrian, foreigner?" the man asks in the bastard valyrian of the Free Cities.

[Sam]

"Only a little," Ryam said in that tongue, though he stumbled over the words and his accent made them near unrecognizable. "I'm afraid I rather neglected my studies as a boy," he added, a smirk playing on his lips. "My master has asked me to inquire about your skill as a metalsmith, to see if you can provide the service he requires," he said haltingly.

[Horas]

The smith laughs at Ryam's accent, then says, "There is no metal Talgon Uighuro cannot work, so long as you have enough gold."

[Sam]

"Gold I certainly do not lack," Ryam said grinning widely. He places gingerly on a table the rolled up blanket that he'd brought from Horn Hill, unrolling it slowly. Lying side by side were two nearly identical longswords, though the subtle differences between them was obvious to the practiced eye. The smoky grey steel shone in the shop's dull light, making the dark ripples that ran across both blades nearly invisible.

"These two swords were once one, and the man who owns them wishes for them to be one again," the knight said, and tossed a sack onto the table next to the blades. The clinking of coins could be heard from the inside, as the gold rattled around from the impact.

[Horas]

The smith smiles warmly and lifts one of the blades with reverance, examining the steel. "Valyrian steel, it is... and so much of it. Your master is a lucky man indeed."

He traces one finger along the flat of the blade. "I can make your greatsword. Do you want me to make a suitable hilt as well?"

[Sam]

Ryam thought about the instructions he had been given. "Yes," he said slowly. "It should be more practical for battle than ornate."

[Horas]

"Hrmm. A pity to have such a fine blade with a plain hilt, but if that is your desire, it shall be done."

The smith lifts the bag of gold, judging its weight. "This will suffice for now. I will want this much again when my work is done, Master...?" He looks at Ryam to supply his name.

[Sam]

"Flowers," Ryam said. "You will receive the amount of gold you need," he said assuringly.

[Horas]

The smith nods. "Then I will get to work, unless there is anything else?"

[Sam]

"None at all, Master Uighuro. When shall I come back to pick it up?"

[Horas]

"Two weeks, I think. It should be done by then."

[Sam]

"My thanks, master smith. I shall see you in two weeks," the knight said, and strolled out of the shop into the city proper.

[Sam]

/////////////////////////
After a fortnight has passed, Ser Ryam returns to Talgon Uighuro's shop with another, slightly larger, sack. He waits politely in the shop for the master smith to arrive.