After nightfall, Baneck and Torsar entered Morgenferrin Copprin’s tavern – – The Watchlight. Easily the biggest and swankiest place in Dumian, or the continent of Khostead, for that matter, it was right next to Lady Copprin’s inn and store. She had many other such businesses; but these she personally worked as her base of operations. With the barns and warehouses – and forges – built adjacent, these buildings alone took up their own block of space in the town of Dumian.

The Lichner men walked in to a lively atmosphere, and Morgenferrin, or ‘Morgy’, as she was more casually known, that most curvaceous of female merchants, appeared at Baneck’s side, indifferently pushing the bulky Torsar out of the way, as she entwined the younger man’s arm.

“Hello, darling!” she said.

With that, she started guiding him through the crowd with her famous sauntering walk. Baneck did not even try to resist; he would have had more success trying to hold back the ocean. He simply went along, as she waved at other patrons, as if she was putting the ‘idiot hero’ on display. Baneck gracefully accepted the cheers and jeers of his hardy countrymen. He would probably hear both for the rest of his days.

“Up and around?” she asked. “No worse for wear?”

He just smiled and shook his head. Her great, flowing mane of golden hair framed a beautiful, broad face with high cheekbones. Even though her skin was silky smooth, she wore scars – thin lines that laced her left upper cheek, and came together in a bunch on her left lower jaw. But the charm in her eyes and bright smile on her tiny red lips overshadowed any blemish.

Additional scars marked her forearms, with lines running over the skin in a curious crisscrossing pattern. Baneck knew the power in her thick but smooth limbs, as did nearly every other human in the kingdom. And he often wondered what could have given her such injuries. More importantly, Morgy had connections. If she wanted the scars magically healed, she would know where to go.

But she never talked about her past; and people around her did not pry.

“Come along, luv. I’ve got a table ready for you over here.”

They were halfway across the room, when Torsar’s voice caught up to them.

“Morgy! Oi! No word of ‘hello’? Can you not show a little kindness to an old friend?”

She coldly looked over her shoulder. “You never lack for kindness, given how much adoration you have for yourself. Come along if you want.”

Baneck hid a smirk at his old charmer of an uncle being so rebuffed. Morgy kept leading him farther back, and showed him to the exclusive table where she did business, in its own special alcove at the end of the bar. Without waiting for invitation, Torsar took the seat opposite.

As soon as they sat down, she went to get their first round. The surrounding magic reduced the noise around them

“Why did she put us in the private corner?” Baneck asked, eyeing the rune-engraved plates in the floor, housing powerful spells should Morgy ever be in need.

“Isn’t it obvious? She wants to hire you to make something.”

“Oh.”

He looked to the side with a slight air of trepidation.

“Now, don’t act difficult! You need to start making money, and this might be the first step!”

“Good evening, Baneck!” Raven-haired Gavina, Morgy’s adolescent adopted daughter, said as she suddenly bore a tray to their table, and set three drinks down.

Morgy was right behind her, and sat before the third pint.

“Good of you to come!” she told Baneck.

“Well, your invitation was quite clear. What did you want to talk about?”

“I want to commission a job, before anyone else snatches you up.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want you to make a sword that is indestructible, can cut through anything, and captures the noble spirit of Wintermore, so it’s the bane of evil.”

Baneck blinked and glanced at his uncle.

The watchful young man looked back at Morgy, and slowly replied, “One of the first things to consider when I woke up, was to not make more weapons that could cut through a dragon’s scales. It might endanger the treaty. And besides, isn’t it unusual for a dragon to commission a blade that can cut a dragon?”

Unfazed, she answered, “Of course.”

“I see your concern,” she continued. “You already know I’m a bit unusual, living among humans for so long.” She stroked the scars on her left forearm. “Well, if you can give it a provision that it can’t cut through any kind of dragon, then that will be fine.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the tabletop, lost in his thoughts, as he wondered how he was going to accomplish this. “In that case, it hopefully wouldn’t threaten the treaty.”

He looked over at Torsar, who shook his head in confirmation.

He curiously asked her, “But I know you deal in hard-to-find merchandise. Might I ask who you want this for?”

“Some goodly people who have use for such a blade. It would fulfill a good purpose for them. Honest.”

“Morgy, how many years have you lived with our people?”

“About 300.”

“Everybody knows you’re shrewd. But is an item made with Wintermore safe? Even for you?”

“Was it safe when you made that fancy sword? And look, there it is, still on your hip. What was its name again?”

“Tungstil,” he said, paying tribute to his deceased grandfather. “Felldrake might hold a grudge.” He adjusted the scabbard on his belt. “But part of the danger is, nobody knows what its power might do. I don’t know what it will do. And so many people want it for the wrong reasons.”

“Ho-ho! You have no idea how many people want it, and for all the wrong reasons, at that! As an inheritor of Wintermore, you should be scared for your very existence. Be glad you live among the mighty Coastals and their strength.

“As long as you survive, you’ll learn.

“For instance, you have hopefully learned not to go off on some battle-crusade by yourself.”

Baneck gave a coy smile and nod.

“I say,” she said, in a more serious tone, looking him in the eye, “keep learning, and survive. You say I’m shrewd? Of course. I learned, and I survived.”

She gave a special, whispery emphasis on the last word. With that, Baneck and Torsar’s attention became more focused on her.

“I’m telling this to both of you in confidence; so keep it to yourselves. Agreed?”

Both men nodded.