Stone Arsenal, Meteo City

After depositing all our excess Terrorstone - save for ten stacks which I've kept ahold of - we part ways. Windy and Angelus decided that they'd take up one of the combat-oriented Quests given out by City Hall to head into the East Residential District's sewer and clean out some leftover monsters. Tempted as I am to follow suit, my ability to fight in such an enclosed space is heavily restricted since Meteo City's sewer system is on the small side - unlike what many people might think when they envision a fantasy city's sewage system. It's straightforward, claustrophobic, and full of metal grates as well as traps meant to stymie would-be infiltrators.

Swinging around my Terrorsteel Horrorblade down there is almost impossible. On the other hand, the monsters aren't going to be too much better off, and given the location, they'll probably just be a few Subjugated Citizens, so Windy doesn't need to particularly care about the poor condition of her equipment.

Stepping through the open door and rapping my knuckle on the doorframe, I gain Henna's attention as she pores over a thick ledger. The interior of the shop is mostly cleaned up, but it remains sparse and lifeless, the equipment on display still missing.

"Hope I'm not interrupting you at a bad time," I bow my head marginally in greeting.

Henna smiles tiredly, "Nah, I've been waiting for you to show up, actually."

"It's nice to know I am missed, even with so fleeting an absence," I can't help but tease, approaching the counter.

"Don't you go puttin' words in my mouth," she huffs, sparing a final glance at the open book before abruptly slamming it shut.

"Nevertheless, I am here now. What seems to be the matter?" I address her directly.

Pushing off her stool, the squeaking skid of wood on wood like nails on a chalkboard makes me wince slightly, Henna leans on to the countertop with folded arms, "I've got a question for you, Silver."

"Go ahead," I gesture magnanimously for her to ask away, glancing behind me to ensure that we're not about to be interrupted mid-conversation.

"What now?" Henna questions with a little trepidation, "My heads a mess, lately. Don't really know what to do wi' myself. I feel better having gutted Geronil like a fish, but..."

She trails off, not really sure how to continue, scowling and clenching her fingers as if trying to physically grasp the essence of what she's trying to communicate. I'll admit, I'm not entirely sure what Henna is talking about either. An inkling, perhaps, but with so vague a lead-in she could be talking about almost anything.

Hazarding a guess, I try and spur her mind along, "Is this about our conversation at the farmstead?"

Henna rocks her head to the side, "In part. You go from overbearingly kind, to patient, to brutally cruel like the wind changes directions in spring. But it don't feel unnatural...like it's just 'you'. Like there somehow ain't a contradiction because it's 'you'."

Chewing her lip, she continues, "I wanna keep fighting. And I want t'keep smithing, but it feels more and more like it's one or the other, and now that Geronil's dead it's hard to find a reason to keep training the former."

In other words, Henna is experiencing an identity crisis, is it? I suppose that isn't much of a surprise considering the circumstances, but I'm not sure what advice I can offer to help her. If I were a less empathetic man, I suppose this would be like the Inspiration Quest, and I could manipulate her to go a certain direction. She might even thank me for it, as I likewise get the impression that Henna isn't really much for self-determination, even if she's recovered a degree of self-confidence. Not least because that self-confidence comes from my propping her up.

Frowning, I order my thoughts and feelings on the matter, consider them both as myself and from as unbiased a position as I can before responding.

"I said before, that you needn't hold onto the ideals of others to determine your own worth, and that your life doesn't end with Geronil's death," I begin slowly, "That you should find your own path, and that I would help you however I can."

"Make no mistake, that still holds true. I won't tell you what you should do, just to serve my own interests and give you shallow peace of mind," Henna frowns at that, but remains quiet, "Not least of all because my outward appearance does not reflect my true age. I've had many, many years to grow into the man I am today, and I continue to mature, develop and broaden myself even now. As you pointed out previously, we've not known each other for very long, and by that same glint, very little time has passed since you resolved to change yourself for the better."

I pause to inhale, "You've grown quickly and accomplished a great feat in a very short time since then, but that is no cause for impatience. Nor do you need to set arbitrary limitations on yourself just to satisfy an outdated perception of who you are. You aren't just a blacksmith or a novice warrior, both vocations are simply a piece you've picked up to define the greater whole. To echo what you said about me: You are 'you'."

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I conclude my thoughts, "If you wish to offer your help in whatever capacity you see fit, whether at the forge or on the field, I'm not about to turn it down as I need all the sincere helpers I can get...but that doesn't mean I want your servitude. As ever, I count myself your friend, not your master or owner. Likewise, I am still willing to teach you."

Henna holds out her palms, the left mildly scarred, the right calloused, and stares, "Both are me, huh? You one of those travellin' poets or something, Silver?"

"Hardly, though I'll confess to having spent some time at a similar craft in my younger days," I chuckle, aware that I have a habit of utilising more flowery speech with Merrowan natives I picked up during my time spent around nobility across Firmament. Giving the impression of being well-spoken is a singularly useful skill when hunting down Quest opportunities, even when your Charisma and related attributes are lacking.

Henna smirks briefly, then looks me straight in the eye, "I get what yer tryin' to say, but you won't be getting rid of me so easy, Silver. My tools and my blade are with you."

A small crystal appears in her open palm, the necessary key to accomplishing The First Step. Confused and a little alarmed, Henna recoils at the sudden manifestation of an item in her hands, only to realise the significance of it and quickly regain her composure with a bemused smile, "Heard stories about this thing."

Elated, I smile along with her, as I was a little worried as to why she didn't seem to be accruing any of the experience gained from our tribulations during the Siege. I'm not sure if it can be attributed to developer oversight that it wasn't included in a Quest or an old one, but it was getting to the point where I was suspecting a possible glitch in the system. I'm not really all that familiar with how Followers actually work on an intimate level of understanding, to be honest, and certainly not at this early stage.

As an aside, all inhabitants of Merrow undergo The First Step at Level 10, whether Newborn or native. However, most people undergo the test during their mid-adolescence as a sort of 'coming of age' ceremony if they're going down a combative Path. Doing it later, while uncommon is by no means unheard of, since as Henna demonstrates, it can be hard to predict the twists and turns of one's life. Having said that, many people choose to only go as far as completing The First Step just for the ability to say that they were deemed worthy enough of qualifying for and completing the trial set to them, and don't really push it further than that, but each country has it's own customs when all is said and done.

Panopla's Panoplast Confederacy, for example, makes the completion of The First Step a requirement to be considered an adult in the eyes of the law and the public, while the Kingdom of Scrollwork doesn't accept the integration of outsiders who haven't acquired a Magic-based class from The First Step such as Wizard. The Empire of Stone, meanwhile could be said to be far more lenient in that regard, able to rely on a tide of warm bodies to maintain it's borders, but it can be guaranteed that any military official or officer will have passed it.

Back to the matter at hand, though, I ask the obvious question, "Are you planning on undertaking The First Step immediately, or will you wait for a better moment to do so?"

Henna considers my words seriously, "I think that if I don't do it now, I'll never have the courage to do so. Ain't no point in just staring at it all day with things being what they are, right?"

A sentiment I can more or less understand, but the prudent soul at my core isn't willing to let things go just like that, "If you don't mind me making a suggestion, a quick lesson to warm yourself up for the trial ahead wouldn't go amiss. After all, the trial will only begin when you're ready to take it."

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Henna appears reluctant to go along with me, but the bowing of her head signals her acceptance of the point, "So long as it's quick. Don't wanna take too long and psyche myself out."

Clearing a space in the middle of the shop floor, I run through some drills, common tactics and pass on some critiques of Henna's form over the next twenty or so minutes before seeing her off. Now alone, I decide to lend some assistance to her in the meantime by tidying up Stone Arsenal, rearranging the new furnishings to their original positioning, cleaning out the forge and organising all of Henna's tools into a more manageable spread on the workbench.

The forge itself is, frankly, several years overdue a good clean, and at pretty severe risk of a coal dust-related explosion, though to give the owner the benefit of the doubt, much of the mess was as a result of vandalism by clumsy monsters looking for anything half-way valuable to add to the massive hoard of junk The Scavenger was accumulating on Geronil's behalf.

Job done, I give a stray thought to continuing the work upstairs but feel that would be pushing things a little too far. I'm not about to start rummaging through another person's private belongings like that, particularly since I have no way of knowing what is garbage to be discarded or unassuming bric-a-brac to be kept.

"Mr Silver! As expected, I heard you were here," A slightly familiar voice catches my attention, turning around I come face to face with the Wyvernblood leader of Holy Spring Orchard. While his name admittedly escapes me, he doesn't look like he's here to make trouble - more than likely he's looking to continue our prior business, if I had to guess.

Eyeing him steadily, I lean on my borrowed broom, "So I am. Assuming you're not here for Henna's services as Stone Arsenal is closed at present, can I help you?"

He nods enthusiastically, "That you can, that you can. Hah, the fortunes of Holy Spring Orchard have taken a marked turn for the fantastic since we last spoke."

I quirk an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you managed to offload your equipment so quickly, if I'm understanding the context correctly. I was under the impression that the local Newborn were lacking in funds at the moment."

Between my profiteering and the supply/repair costs stemming from the Siege Event, the majority of people shouldn't have more than a handful of Stone Silver each. Selling raw materials available to the local players at large won't really amount to much, and the only reason that Goldmoss Deer and Dire Wolf carcasses demand such a premium when in good nick is because of their meat and pelts respectively.

He taps his nose, "We've got our ways. In truth, we already had a few interested buyers before you made your offer."

"Then you're here to pay for the remainder to be identified, I take it?"

Mr...Adam? shakes his head, "Not exactly. Instead, we were hoping to sell them as barter in exchange for the strategy to Miner's Nightmare."

Tilting my head, I try to recall what they had left over, "If you could perhaps elaborate as to what you wish to offer?"

"4 sets of Vacantsoul and 3 wands," the Wyvernblood offers. Running some mental arithmetic as to what that approximately comes out to when converted to market value, I'd say it totals to about 20-30 Stone Gold, maybe a little more due to the current scarcity.

Seeing no reason to disagree - if anything it's more than the information on The Nightmare & Pool of Desire is really worth - I can only nod, "Very well. I accept. If you would follow me inside for a moment, we can settle the trade and speak without fear of eavesdropping."

Stepping through the door, I immediately freeze when the proprietor herself blinks back into existence at the spot where she left, though looking simultaneously haggard and perhaps the best she's ever been, full of previously absent confidence best exemplified by the small, calm smile she offers to the world, and me in particular.

"Uhhh..." The Wyvernblood man is rendered speechless by her sudden arrival. Looks like I'll need to add a stipulation about keeping quiet to the contract.

Holding up a hand to ask him to remain quiet, I turn to Henna, "Congratulations are in order."

"Thank you," Henna bows her head, the formal act leaving a strangely awkward atmosphere within the unstocked shop.

IdleFancy

For whatever reason, the end of my drafts have been getting cut off after I turn off my computer and log back in. Fun.