Stepping out of the building, Clada examined the card in his hand. It was somewhat different from Thaila's pass. Though it bore certain information, Clada couldn't decipher it, as the writing was in the Reil language.
[We should definitely prioritize learning the Reil language,] Clada mused.
Ren silently agreed, his eyes roaming over the town streets.
Thaila remained quiet after the truth test, merely keeping pace beside him.
After walking for quite some time, they entered a particularly narrow alley. It was grimy and covered in mold, with very little sunlight filtering through.
Clada turned to Thaila and inquired, "Are we close to where they sell weapons?"
"No, we opposite," she replied.
Narrowing his brows, Clada pressed, "Then why did you lead us here?"
She tilted her head a little and responded, "But you lead we here."
"I've never been to this town before," Clada retorted, almost biting his lip in frustration. "I thought you were guiding us. Didn't Blim explain why I came here?"
Looking chastised, Thaila lowered her gaze and muttered, "he told, you ask not me for the way."
Clada massaged his forehead, preparing to respond, when two young children, no older than eight, came rushing from the other end of the alley. Engrossed in their play, they seemed to be chasing one another.
Due to the alley's narrow confines, Clada and Thaila pressed themselves against a wall to allow the kids to pass.
As the children's laughter echoed past them, Clada swiftly reached out, snagging one of the kids by the collar and hoisting him into the air.
Thaila watched, taken aback, but before she could voice her shock, Clada retrieved his belt pouch from the child's grip.
To backtrack a moment, as the kids had dashed past, one had stealthily unfastened Clada's pouch. The child's nimbleness was so profound that, had it been a knife instead of a hand, Clada might not have been able to react in time.
The child turned to face Clada, his eyes devoid of fear and filled only with irritation. In the Reil language, he commanded, "Let go."
With a swift motion, Clada discarded the boy like a bag of garbage. He retrieved the butter knife he'd pocketed from breakfast, then poised himself, eyes fixed on the alley's entrance.
From that direction, two men approached, both garbed in simple tunics. both sported long hair, and the one of them bore a conspicuous scar along his cheek.
At the alley's opposite end, another fat man blocked the alley exit.
Thaila darted her gaze between the two ends of the alley before settling her attention on Clada, waiting for his next move.
[That guy with the scar, he was at the building where we got the pass,] Ren observed, his voice devoid of concern.
[I felt we were being trailed, but I assumed they were just on their way too. Seems I was wrong,] Clada admitted.
Before Clada could make a move, the scarred man remarked, "Things could've been simple if you'd ignored the theft, but you chose the rough route."
Clada didn't bother to listen nor to understand the man's rumble, he grabbed Thaila's hand—she didn't resist—and dashed toward the Fatty blocking their exit.
As they approached, the man calmly unsheathed a dagger, appearing untroubled by their advance. The men behind merely smirked at Clada's boldness.
Clada's grip tightened around the butter knife. As he closed in on the fat man, he swung his hand as though he was going to throw the knife.
Instinctively, the man raised his hands to shield his face, anticipating the projectile. But the anticipated knife strike never came. Instead, what came was a swift upward kick, straight to the man's nuts.
The Fatty's eyes bulged in pain, his scream stifled. Desperately, his hands clutched between his legs trying to keep them intact. But before he could cry for his lost children, Clada's elbow crashed into his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Without hesitation, Clada snatched up the dropped dagger and, with Thaila in tow, vanished before the other men could process the turn of events.
***
After a few sharp turns, Clada halted and faced Thaila. "Now, can you guide us to where they sell weapons?"
Thaila, without comment on the recent events, simply began leading the way in a specific direction, with Clada trailing behind her.
[That move was below the belt, literally,] Ren remarked with a disapproving shake of his head.
[I didn't have the luxury of patience or time. This town visit is already taking longer than anticipated,] Clada responded with a sigh.
Glancing at the dagger he'd taken from the hefty man, he mused, 'At least I got something out of that encounter.' He then discreetly concealed it.
They continued in the opposite direction until they reached a shop sporting a large sign that featured the image of a sword and an axe. The rhythmic pounding of a hammer on metal resonated from within.
walking in, they were greeted by the warmth and the smoky scent typical of a blacksmith's forge. Weapons of all kinds adorned the walls and tables: swords, spears, axes, shields, daggers, and more.
A young man with striking golden eyes sat behind the counter. He regarded the duo with a disinterested glance and intoned, "Welcome."
Clada glanced at Thaila, who remained silent. "Tell him I want to purchase two daggers and a spear," he prompted her.
She conveyed Clada's request, making the young man rise from his seat. He headed to a table and picked up a double-edged dagger with a protective handguard. Then, moving to a wall display, he selected a modest, straightforward spear.
"These are suitable for a beginner," he began, placing the weapons before Clada. "They're affordable but of decent quality. This way, you can determine which weapon is the right fit for you."
Before Thaila could translate, Clada lifted the dagger, placing a finger at its center to check its balance. Swiftly, he went through a series of movements: stabbing, slicing, and even jump-swinging it.
Once he concluded, he remarked, [Far superior to anything we could make on the island.]
[Obviously. On the island, all I had were bones to work with,] Ren retorted.
Clada's gaze settled on a wooden wall. Without warning, he hurled the dagger at it, embedding the weapon deep within the wood. Satisfied with the result, he gave a nod of approval.
As he picked up the spear to test it next, the shopkeeper intervened.
"I must apologize. I misjudged your proficiency," he admitted. Quickly, he disappeared through a back door. A couple of minutes later, after Thaila relayed the young man's words to Clada, he returned bearing a box containing two exquisite daggers.
At first glance, Clada recognized their master craftsmanship. Constructed of a matte gray material, the blades absorbed light rather than reflecting it. They sported no handguard and had a single sharpened edge.
Clada swiftly took hold of the daggers, their surprising lightness initially casting doubt on their sturdiness. Yet when he performed his earlier set of maneuvers with them, the weapons felt decisively more lethal and precise.
To test their durability, he grasped the butter knife he had earlier and struck it with one of the gray daggers. Without resistance, the knife split in two.
"Tell him these are the ones I want," he directed Thaila, who quickly translated.
The shopkeeper nodded appreciatively. "I'm pleased you approve. These were forged from azar ore, renowned for its lack of light reflection and unmatched hardness. A perfect tool for those who hunt under the cover of night."
Once Thaila relayed the shopkeeper's explanation, Clada turned to Ren, [I've found my choice of daggers. Which spear do you want?]
Ren gestured to a distinct spear hanging on the wall. [Try that one.] It stood out with its all-black hue, from shaft to tip.
Clada inspected it, remarking, [But it appears to be made entirely of metal.]
[Just give it a whirl,] Ren encouraged.
Without further debate, Clada approached the wall and took down the black spear. It had a heftier feel than typical spears, but as he began to swing it, the reason for Ren's recommendation became clear. Despite its metal construction, the spear managed to flex and bend like its wooden counterparts, and its added weight delivered an increased force in every swing.
[I see your point,] Clada said, admiring the weapon's craftsmanship.
[I actually didn't see anything; I just thought it looked cool,] Ren admitted with a shrug.