Emidio's night shift started with a terrible noise at his front door.

"Wake up, brat! This sword you sold me is shit!"

Annoyed, but not surprised, Emidio pulled on a heavy overcoat and clipped his belt of tools in place. The dagger on his side weighed him down unnaturally, but he needed it close for more violent customers. Opening the door, a tall and lanky man shouldered his way in. He was not bulky in the way one became from a life of constant labor, but lean and armored from days spent with little to eat and many to kill.

"Finally! You've got hell to pay for cheating me out of my silver." The adventurer slammed a sheathed sword on the countertop. The sheath was black with mold and dripped ever so slightly with oil.

Saying nothing, Emidio walked around behind the counter to examine his tortured work. It was one of his most popular products, a sword coated in Infernite, though it brought far more trouble than profits. He unsheathed a few inches of the blade, and it was clear that the cracked stone was falling apart. Barely any oil seeped out, and there was a hole revealing the bare iron underneath. Glancing further down, Emidio noted that the flint mechanism at the base of the sheath was loose and singed.

"Well, can't find any excuse!? What kind of sword can't last a month!"

Pretending to sigh, Emidio channeled the barest of magic in his hand and let it rest on the sheath. Some of the mold melted away, and a subtle heat started to radiate from the iron blade.

"I told you it would break if you didn't keep it clean. Didn't you read the instructions I gave you?" The man's face flushed, and Emidio rolled his eyes. Oh. He can't read.

Choosing not to say it out loud, he changed the topic. "So I guess you want another one? 50 silver."

"50 silver!?" The warrior bellowed. "That's more than last time! I know you charge less for those posh folks."

"I trust those 'posh folks' not to set themselves on fire. The extra charge is for teaching you how to clean the damn things so you don't kill yourself."

Incensed, the thug grabbed Emidio by the collar and lifted him up into the air. "You making fun of me?" Emidio looked down. He was being held with the offhand, the hand still gloved with the secondary gauntlet used to ignite the sword.

"Lesson 1," Emidio pressed a switch within the gauntlet, "if you don't clean the gauntlet properly, the oil pools inside it." A hiss could be heard as something wet and very, very flammable dribbled down the man's arm. Emidio raised a finger, and a tiny ember could be seen floating at the tip.

Paling, the man dropped Emidio and threw off the gauntlet before running out. Emidio watched him, and counted a few seconds before putting the sword back down. The heat lingered for a few more seconds, but it did not burst into flames. Closing the door and fetching a mop, Emidio mused. If he has any sense, he'll be back AFTER he can fight off the local beasts without a crutch. With the floor cleaned up, and Emidio wide awake, he decided he may as well get some work done.

He took apart the sword and examined it more carefully. The sheath was soaked in oil, and the Dust Mold was feasting on it. Even if he extracted the oil, the Dust Mold had long since rendered it inert. He cut out the leather and threw it in the trash. Dipping a cloth with warm alcohol, he wiped down what remained of the Infernite. After several passes, the stone regained its original crimson color, but further cracked and fell off the blade.

The iron sword was cleaned and kept, and mostly undamaged gauntlet set aside. What remained were a few chunks of Infernite, the gauntlet, and the flint mechanism. The Infernite leaked too little oil to be used as a weapon, so he decided to experiment with a new product.

He took a block of wood, and hollowed it out to fit the Infernite. Then, he plastered the insides with flame-retardant slime before sealing a chunk of Infernite within. He drilled a hole into the container, and fitted a small tube of bone. The flint mechanism was attached to the end, and a cap was installed so that opening the cap would strike the flint. Emidio tipped the whole block forward, letting oil drip out the bone, before opening the cap and lighting the oil aflame.

It's a little big for a lighter, may as well put a handle and call it a lamp. At least I have something to use with waste Infernite.

Satisfied, Emidio cleaned off the table and went back to sleep.

Author note: So, how's this for a story format? Any takers?