Elliot raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tradition?"
Mortimer nodded. "Indeed. You see, before I sell anything, I like to test the wit of my customers. I'll present you with three riddles. If you answer them correctly, the item you seek is yours. But for every answer, it'll cost you a hundred credits. Do we have an understanding?"
Elliot was taken aback but nodded reluctantly. "Alright, I'll play your game."
Mortimer's grin widened. "Excellent. Here's the first riddle: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?"
Elliot furrowed his brows, considering the riddle carefully. "An echo?"
Mortimer nodded with a faint smile and gestured for Elliot to pay.
Elliot transferred a hundred credits via his bracelet, still puzzled by the unusual transaction.
Mortimer then presented the second riddle: "I can be cracked, made, told, and played. What am I?"
Elliot hesitated for a moment, then answered confidently, "A joke?"
Mortimer nodded again, acknowledging the correct response. Another hundred credits were transferred.
Finally, Mortimer posed the third riddle: "What has keys but can't open locks? What has space but no room? What has you but can't touch you? What am I?"
Elliot's brow furrowed once more, but this time he wasn't as quick to respond. He mulled over the riddle, contemplating its meaning.
Mortimer tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting patiently for Elliot's answer.
After a brief pause, Elliot finally came up with the answer to the third riddle. "A keyboard?" he ventured thinking of the archaic tool to enter information in to computers used in the past.
Mortimer nodded, seemingly pleased with Elliot's response, and prompted him to transfer another hundred credits. Elliot complied, growing increasingly perplexed by the bizarre transaction.
With the final riddle answered and credits transferred, Mortimer reached under the counter and placed a folded piece of phoenix hide on the table. He looked up at Elliot, his eyes unwavering. "Your item, sir. Courtesy of the dwarf, who's already paid for it."
Elliot's irritation flared. "Why did I have to pay you three hundred credits, then?"
Mortimer's grin remained enigmatic. "You paid by choice, Mr. Elliot. I never forced you."
Frustration welled up within Elliot, and he grabbed the phoenix hide abruptly. As soon as his fingers touched the supple leather, reality seemed to twist and warp around him. In an instant, he found himself standing just outside the door of Mortimer's shop.
"Holy shit," Elliot muttered in a mixture of awe and bewilderment, gazing at the shop's entrance.
With the phoenix hide in his possession, Elliot decided it was time to return to the dwarf and complete the deal. He made his way back through the bustling streets of District M34, this time feeling less harassed by the persistent vendors.
The journey back to the outermost middle district, M34, was uneventful. The city's night life was still in full swing, with people strolling along the well-lit streets, and neon signs casting colorful glows on the pavement. Elliot couldn't help but contrast it with the deserted and desolate atmosphere of his home district, O52, which only came alive during the day.
Finally, he arrived at the familiar dwarf's shop. The entrance, a small and unassuming door, stood as it had when he left. With a deep breath, he pushed it open and entered the quaint and dimly lit establishment. The air was filled with the scent of leather and the soft clinking of metal on metal as the dwarf worked diligently on various crafts.
The dwarf, upon noticing Elliot's return, set aside his tools and looked up with a warm yet inquisitive expression. "Back already? Did you manage to acquire the Phoenixhide?"
Elliot nodded, clutching the folded piece of leather. "Yes, I did. It wasn't easy, though."
The dwarf chuckled. "Nothing worthwhile ever is. Now, let's finish those sheaths, shall we?"
As Elliot and the dwarf set to work on their agreed-upon task, the city of Stellara continued its nocturnal activities outside, unaware of the hidden challenges and quests unfolding within its bustling streets.
The Phoenixhide, a material as rare and magnificent as its namesake, was a sight to behold. It bore a deep, lustrous black hue, seemingly absorbing all light that touched its surface. Embedded within the darkness were intricate streaks of shimmering gold, resembling the fiery plumage of the legendary bird. It felt supple and resilient beneath Elliot's fingertips, a testament to its enduring strength.
Working with Pheonixhide was a delicate process. The blacksmith, an enigmatic figure known simply as the Old Man, handled it with the utmost care, as if the material itself were alive and possessed. He explained the intricacies of crafting sheaths from this unique material as he guided Elliot through the process.
They began by carefully measuring and cutting the Phoenixhide into long, elegant strips. Each strip was meticulously shaped and molded to form the sheaths that would house Elliot's prized twin short swords. The black and gold patterns seemed to dance and ripple as the sheaths took shape, adding an air of enchantment to the process.
The Old Man's skilled hands manipulated the Phoenixhide with precision, ensuring a snug fit for the blades. He shared stories of the legendary bird and its ties to ancient myths and powerful artifacts, infusing each step of the crafting process with a sense of mystique.
As the night deepened outside, the Old Man and Elliot continued their labor. The finished product, two black and gold sheaths, gleamed with an otherworldly beauty. They were works of art as much as functional tools, a testament to the craftsmanship of the Old Man and the extraordinary material they had used.
Elliot couldn't help but admire the sheaths, knowing that they were more than just protective casings for his weapons. They were a symbol of his growing strength and the extraordinary journey he had embarked upon in this enigmatic world of powers and quests.
"Ah, us dwarfs are the best," the old man muttered, his eyes gleaming with pride as he admired his creation.
He carefully picked up the sheaths and reverently placed the two swords with scarlet streaks into them. The moment the blades made contact with the Phoenixhide, a soft, ethereal glow enveloped both the sheaths and the swords.
"Yes, this is it! The Phoenixhide carries the rebirth qualities of the Phoenix itself," the dwarf explained excitedly. "The swords were unbalanced, chaotic, but after their rebirth, they shall be solid, firm, and perfect!"
Elliot watched in amazement as the two twin swords continued to glow within their sheaths. The vibrant light danced and swirled, casting a warm, scarlet hue across the room. It was a sight to behold, a testament to the remarkable properties of the Phoenixhide.
When the glow finally subsided, the old man gently handed Elliot the sheathed swords. "Here, they are yours, boy."