<span style="font-style: italic">â€œWe can meet up afterwards if you are set on travelling with us; if you prove useful, practicality would permit such a thing. After all, a swordsman, even of great competence, ought to be able to contribute more than just a blade.â€</span><br/>Pete's face remained emotionless behind the smile, but inside he was insulted. Beyond everything else he had done, Pete considered himself a swordsman, and even if his major function in life had been to use his brain more than his blade, he did, in the end, find it more satisfying to disarm an opponent manually than outwitting him, even if the two were rarely mutually exclusive.<br/><br/>Pete raised the rapier towards Koralheim's face, or rather the point was a good two feet from touching him. Kala, living up to her role as bodyguard, took a step forward and Pete lowered the weapon slightly and explained his behaviour before raising it again:<br/>"Look at the blade and look particularly well at the hand guard."<br/><br/>Pete's sword was embedded with dozens of gems of all sizes and colors. Only two gems adorned the blade itself, but the hand guard was every bit as gaudy as Pete himself. There were rubies and emeralds, sapphires and something deep purple and something orange that did not quite look like amber.<br/>"One gem for each duel I have won," Pete explained calmly. "Each man - or woman -," he nodded at Kala, "has a gem the size of his worth, and the color of his race."<br/>Pete rested one of his long, thin fingers on a small sapphire. "Young merman." He pointed to a medium sized emerald: "An elven blade dancer turned marauder. And this large diamond..." Pete smile almost dropped. "Human bandit king. I have many talents, Koralheim, the toymaker, but if the Fifth is coming, as you seem convinced, then you do need a swordsman, and I am the best I have met."<br/><br/>Pete stopped talking before he asked about Kala's worth beyond her weapons, but hers was obvious: she followed Koralheim out of a sense of duty or love or something meaningless like it. Pete could fight better than Kala, he imagined, but unlike her Pete did not have to turn his sword the way Koralheim pointed.<br/>"If you desire my brain, which would be burdened by more gems than my sword, then you have to stop telling cryptic prophecies about events to come, and instead inform me of the immediate goals or give detailed information about the expected far future. If I am to be more than a sword to you, then I will need to know what I am supposed to prepare for. As a swordsman I am currently ready for anything a swordsman can meet, but as a strategist my scouts have not yet returned with details on the enemy."<br/><br/>He spun around and waved over his shoulder as he walked for . "If we meet up again, tell me everything. Only then can I answer truthfully if I can bring anything to your side beyond general mirth and astronomy."<br/><br/><br/>Vrael's forge was... unassuming. Pete had to check twice with the locals before he was convinced that the comparably small stone house was home to possibly the world's greatest living blacksmith. The small wooden hut next to it did not fit Pete's impression of the blacksmith either, as he was a man who could afford any accommodation, and yet seemed to live no different than an average horseshoe smith. Pete nodded to no one and accustomed himself to his new impression, re-deciding how he would address Vrael.<br/><br/>Money was no longer an option. Pete had hoped to simply buy Vrael's mythical craftsmanship, but clearly Vrael was interested in something other than gold. Pete hoped sincerely he did not require some spiritual contract or organs for his services. Pete was far from the god's favorite son, but he was not prepared to sign anything in his own blood or summon devils whenever slashed his blade. Vrael would be stabbed if he handed Pete a musical sword.<br/>Pete knocked on the door three times. If the payment was simply to be worthy to wield one of Vrael's weapons then Pete considered himself thusly, but his appearance would work against him, and he allowed his smile to drop in order not to seem too self-confident or mocking.<br/><br/>"Oh, you're an elf," Pete said as soon as he entered and did not even attempt to disguise his disappointment. "On second thought, I assume you are a thief, since no elf would give up a luxurious existence, to instead live in a forge, even if the forge is what he loves."<br/>Pete prepared to step back outside, but looked at Vrael through the heavy smoke and scanned his facial expression to spot fierceness in the smith.<br/>"I led a band of free spirits once. It was not quite luxury, living in caravans and making money in ways that were not always in accordance with any law. During this time I led men of every race with the exception of even a single elf, because I never found one that was willing to do what he loved - fighting, travelling and freedom - if it meant giving up soft clothes and smelling like flowers. So either you are Vrael's impoverished apprentice, a smelly thief in his shop, or you are Vrael and thus the first elf I have ever been able to respect."<br/><br/>Pete turned to walk out of the forge and added, leaving enough room in his exit to allow Vrael to somehow invite him to stay: "It is a shame, then, that you will not allow me to make a request. I was going to ask you to forge me a sword that can stab through steel or rock, but I fear we already dislike each other too much to do business. It was a pleasure meeting you, elf. I will think of you the next time I see a master of a craft not living up to his promise because greatness does not equal comfort."