Many interesting sights appear before me as I carry on down the path.

Over the many stalls, I see a large number of taller buildings on different elevations in the distance. The closer to the centre the buildings are, the more they are made of brick and stone.

Amongst them, a sizable stone building that appears to be a castle surrounded by a wall sits in the middle. Banners with some sort of symbol I can barely make out drape from its towers. Some sort of animal I think. 

I can barely make it out, but the bits of stone poking out from behind all the buildings suggest a large wall.

I have limited knowledge of the mediaeval ages, but I did consume enough media and Wikipedia pages to have a decent grasp on the subject.

If this place is large enough for what I think is the lord’s manor to be within the settlement, this is possibly a city or at least a large town.

This marketplace is relatively large after all. Doesn’t quite reach the size of south-east Asian markets, but I’ve turned three corners now and only now have started to see signs of its edge.

After a bit more market, I turn the corner into a street full of what seem to be blacksmiths, fletchers and other merchants selling armours and mediaeval weaponry. 

If the combat gear business is this successful, then there must be big threats to fight out there.

Whether it’s monsters or men, however, that’s something I’ll find out later. Knowing fantasy worlds it’s both, but wrong assumptions can get you killed.

The area doesn’t seem overly fancy as it's mostly stalls, though a few dedicated buildings seem to be scattered around.

One such building catches my eye. A sign with the symbol that resembles the sun with a sword going through behind it hangs from a pole sticking above the store’s door.

I look through the store’s door frame. Inside is exactly what you would call a smithery. Benches full of parts and metals are scattered around the room. A wide array of weapons line the walls. A stone forge sits in the corner next to an anvil.

Two men are conversing near the forge. Both are quite fit.

I take another scan of the inside before I leave. Bothering them wouldn’t be ideal.

Carrying down the path, a stall with a burly man with an eyepatch pounding away on a glowing red piece of metal on an anvil catches my attention.

That’s a real blacksmith at work! This would be my first time seeing one up close.

In his stall is a forge with a weapons rack filled with swords, spears, and axes next to it. Not as impressive as the other store, but this stall is quite nice.

He sticks the sword back into the fire a bit, then he continues moulding it into a sword.

“Are you here for anything?”

What a harsh tone. He doesn’t even spare a glance from his work. 

Since I understand this man too, perhaps my race trait theory is out of the question.

Unlike the halfling, or I guess Dwen I should call them, this man’s words have a British tone to them, with his ‘r’s noticeably omitted.

“Another Desmond errand boy? A strange-looking one at that.”

He then sighs.

“Tell him I’ll have the money by next week, sale’s been rough recently.”

A conflict? Don’t tell me I'm now mixed up in this. I’ll keep this Desmond in mind.

A sword in a scabbard leaning on a table falls to the ground. The blacksmith turns to it, pausing for a moment. He then picks it up and lobs it towards me. 

“Y’know what, here. Tell him he can have this until my payment.

I nearly drop it, but I just manage to grasp it with my hands. The scabbard is the same that you’d see on a beginner weapon in an MMORPG. The hilt is completely normal too.

I shake my head and attempt to give him back the sword.

He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Look. I know you need to bring food to the table, so Desmond is your only option, but I need money too. I just can’t give the money right now, I don’t have it. This sword should be enough to cover a portion of the cost.”

“Um, Sir, I don’t know who this Desmond is. Please take the sword back, you’re giving it to the wrong person.”

His eyebrows wrinkle as the frustration on his face becomes more apparent.

“What? He even has hirelings who don’t speak Cordia now. Great.”

Worth a shot.

“Leave my sight.”

He then returns to his forging.

Returning this is the right thing to do. It really is. But this man won't take it back. Would it do more good than harm to leave this with him? 

I don’t think messing with a frustrated blacksmith is the right move. It’d be akin to messing with a gun store clerk.

Learning how to communicate first is a must. Then I can think about giving this back.