Fate weaver’s convergence

"Hello?”

I knocked on the corner of what seemed to be a decrepit shop. The scene that greeted me was less than encouraging. A shop in disarray was what I took in amidst scraps of metal, and strangely, very organized placement of complete cutlery sets and the occasional clock.

Where the hell did you send me, Peter?

“Mr.Findlay?”

I poked my head through the door, a chime made of metal and monster scales and bone filled the air as the door kicked up debris that'd formed from lack of use.

"Cease with the racket! I need a moment!"

A rather gravely voice yelled across the shop, originating from a room just beyond the counter at the room's far end. 

The hell? Seemed a bit gruff for some cutlery maker.

I followed the origin of the voice, my ear just barely picking up the faint scratching of metal thanks to 'Thrill of the hunt's' augmentation.

What is he doing? Engraving work?

What greeted me wasn't what I'd expected when Peter described the dwarf. Though his face was obscured, his crooked back and hair was enough to hint at his age. Mr.Findlay's hair was gray, but still had a hint of color from his younger years. Small flakes of metal could be seen landing on the table he worked at, light from a series of candles illuminating each stray shard.

“I said to quiet down, I can hear the damned floorboards shifting. Give me just a moment longer and I'll be with ye!”

The gruff voice strained as he maintained utter stillness. Unsure how to properly follow from that point forward, I simply stood in place as if I hadn't just barged into the man's home. The longer I lingered, the more familiar the smell of his home became. It was some time I stood there in silence, a creak of wood here, the old dwarfs sniffling there. It seemed like half an hour before he stretched with a groan before pivoting in his chair. He didn't seem in his later years, but his voice betrayed him. He carried a presence about him not unlike Lorn, though he looked no older than Stannis.

“So Callum’s girl has come to pay a visit. Any reason you've shown up at my doorstep? Or rather, intruded.”

His arms were crossed.

“Ah, apologies.”

I muttered sheepishly, avoiding eye contact as I did.

How does he know me, though?

“Have we been acquainted, sir?”

Mr.Findlay shook his head.

“Girl, I've known your presence on three or four years now. Everything you hang around the heel-chasers forge or fight that knife-ear in the yard.”

Findlay seemed in a much poorer mood already given my intrusion.

“Ah.”

I paused a moment, reconnecting my planned introduction.

“You actually came recommended. A boy named Peter sent me, claiming your craftsmanship was remarkable.”

Don't forget the anchor!

“He said to mention the Anthim’s anchor.”

The completion of the sentence made his face twist slightly, distaste and caution mingling to form a scowl.

“Convenient from his daughter. Go away.”

Finlay turned around in his chair.

This fuckin-

“Listen old fart, I'm here to pay ya. What even did uncle Cal’ do to ya anyways?!”

I asked, my hands posting to my hips instinctual as one of my feet idly tapped with frustration. Mr. Findlay himself did his best to ignore me as he turned back to his work, but he barely managed a solid minute of my tapping before sighing and turning in his chair once more. 

“Yer ‘uncle’ managed to somehow break down the design I'd fashioned for carving knives. He did that simply hanging around my forge beside his own. I'd not let you get as close considering I've heard your a crafty one.”

Findlay pointed a crooked and scarred finger in my direction. Cocking my hips to the side in response, I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily.

“I'm just looking for help, and some service. Not some petty craftsmans feud.”

My tail flicked to my right. Arms still crossed, I imagined I could at least appeal to the old dwarf as a potential-

Albeit, frustrated.

- customer. 

“If I bought something else, would it get you to open up any?”

I asked, looking back up to Findlay. It was a frustrating endeavor, but he seemed to cave slightly as he ran his hands through his hair for a moment.

“Go back up to the counter.”

He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd seemed relatively weak to pressure, or he simply couldn't bring himself to dislike me as much as he did Callum at a glance. With a frustrated groan, he hefted up a chunk of shaped metal. It looked like a crude mockery of a buckler, it's plating too thick to be used conventionally and dulled yet prominent spikes welded in a set pattern to its outer face. He walked up a short catwalk to bring himself to eye level of any human customer. In this case though, he was looking down. Eyeing the chunk of metal, I attempted to work through what he was planning.

Why pull this thing out?

I picked up the buckler.

“So do you want me to buy this off of you?”

I asked, raising a brow in confusion. I shifted the metal with a slightly forced lag. Attempting to hide the fact that I could swing the otherwise useless buckler as if it were just a hide brace. Findlay shrugged, his hands posting on the counter before he spoke.

“Twenty-three gold.”

I flinched at the price, allowing my left knee to give out as I dropped the heavy chunk of metal on the counter.

“Gold?! For this thing?”

That fuckin price is what- over a thousand usd in earth money?! For scrap?!

I asked, surprised the old dwarf would charge so much for what may have well been the world's priciest paperweight. It was useless to the average adventurer, therefore unsellable.

“Why don't you just melt this thing down if it's worth so much?!”

I asked, eyeing the buckler before looking back up to Findlay, his face now sporting a triumphant smile.

“No forge in the city burns hot enough to smelt the thing without surpassing its cost in gold. It's a net loss.”

The swindling ex-sailor rubbed his nails against the leather apron that he wore, a piece of silver flying to the corner as he picked a nail soon after.

“You want to hear about the anchor? Then consider it the first half of your commission of confidence.”

Findlay's voice softened. 

“You're speaking to a rather renowned jeweler from the southern imperial reach. The least you could do is prove you have the coin, aye? I need confidence in my customer.”

He spoke in a sly tone, some hidden condition yet to reveal itself just as he hid one of his eyes beneath its lid.

“You'd think confidence in the craftsmen would be just as valued.”

I scowled, taking my coin purse out and placing it on the counter with the heavy ‘clink’ of loose coins.

“Or are you perhaps keen on getting me involved with your fued with Uncle Cal?”

I grumbled, looking at his display shelves behind him.

“You're keeping something to yourself, aren't you? Too scared to deal with your rival's niece? Think you'd get him to come after you if you sold me something too good?”

I did my best to sport the brattiest expression I could manage.

His pride, Peter said to challenge his pride. Careful though, we need him to take the challenge.

“Or do you think you couldn't out do Callum?”

I asked, posting myself on the counter in a mirror of his pose. I stared into his eyes, watching for any shift in emotion or stance.

C’mon, break, break, breaaak-

And he finally blinked, a severe twitch developing on his right cheek as he struggled to hold his smug expression.

“Nephrite jade is common enough near the crags of the pass. Mayhap you can fetch some, then the second half of your commission payment will be made.”

Second half?! Fuck! I can't get from under this buckler?!

He leaned against the wooden countertop, using his hand as a makeshift image of the entrance to the pass.

“It's just too far out to pay workers to fetch it for regular production.”

Findlay placed a stray pencil In his teeth before continuing.

“But being as this Is a personal venture, maybe you'd be willing to bring back a tall order. Normal orders of the stuff yield copper to the gold it should actually sell for.”

He took the pencil from his mouth.

“Here, here, and here.”

His scarred finger pointed.

“ These are potential dig sites. You're likely to just find boulders of the stuff. Bring me your weight in the jade… and maybe I'll consider your commission.”

Findlay eyed me from the side, possibly gauging my reaction if I'd accept his scam. To his chagrin, he'd unfortunately roped in an exceptional target.

Fuck… I mean I CAN do it but…

I mulled over the thought weighing the options before me.

Beryl would be touched… that I'd go through so much. She still stares at the Azure-lace flowers we planted like I'd just given them to her.

“How does a week sound?”

I looked at the dwarf who'd nodded along idly expecting a refusal.

“Aye, a week sounds exceptional… a week?”

He shook his head slightly, unsure If I'd just accepted his terms. I nodded in response.

“ I have to go out with the recovery teams soon anyways, why not tidy up with them and grab the nephrite on the way?”

I asked, tilting my head as I grabbed the buckler as if it was weightless. 

“Huh…”

Findlay shook his head, washing away the confused expression. He seemed dumbfounded as I hefted the material. It took him a moment to bounce back and give his response.

“Deal. Bring me a load of nephrite jade, and the commission is yours-”

He turned for a moment, hesitating before nodding in an oddly respectful manner.

“Call me on my bluff for real, and I'll show you it was worth doing.”

The dwarf waved me away, pulling a few assorted ingots of stock metal from his display shelf as he did so. 

“Now go, I have other orders to fill.”

I turned, waving back to him as I walked towards the exit. 

“I'll hold you to it!”

I yelled as I pushed the door open. I could have sworn I heard the dwarf ask himself a question after sighing.

“She is an adventurer… and she did have the gold for it…”

“So, how did you fare?”

Hatsumi asked aloud, her tail slowly brushing at the cleaned stone surface of the fountain. Her ears straightened and her brows raised as she noticed the guitar I carried, and the unwieldy buckler adorning my left forearm.

“I take it Beryls learning an instrument? She is studious, but musical?”

Mother asked in an inquisitive tone. I shook my head in denial.

“No, but I've taken a gamble. I need to join Aunt Avery and the recovery team tomorrow. Hopefully they have a call near the pass.”

Mother froze up, leaning forward into her lap and into my periphery. 

That's her scolding face.

“The recovery team's purpose is not one with the implications of ‘beneficial’.”

Her brows were furrowed, less so from a sense of disappointment, but genuine worry.

“I don't think you fully comprehend what you may witness. And why now? Why not continue searching for Beryl's gift? This idea of joining the recovery team spawned from nowhere, I'm sure from how often you've avoided the duty so far.” 

I crossed my legs, eyeing the plate of spiked metal on my arm.

“A trade. I found a jeweler that will work if I grab some jade from the pass.”

Mother sighed outwardly.

“And it's not a scam?” 

She asked, tapping the stone we sat upon. I shook my head, reaffirming my confidence.

“He seems at odds like a particular goblin.”

I referenced Graff, the feisty team leaders sarcastic tone coming to mind.

“Well… I have a backup just in case.”

Mother patted a small burlap sack as if to reassure my efforts.

“You're not as naive as we think sometimes, so I'll allow this option. Just know what you're getting into.”

____________________________________

“Ki-ki, are you sure about this?”

Avery asked, mounting her blades to what would be her pedipalps had she been a normal spider.

“You avoid this job like the plague, and now you want to join?”

I nodded, my arms crossed. Leaving the buckler in my room, I was equipped for a standard hunt. Jacket, pants, gambeson. The same outfit I'd used to hunt the Gorgonopsid just a few days earlier. I nodded, looking over the cart that was set to carry our Bounty. Thankfully this was a standard recovery mission. The team is unscathed, but the target was simply too heavy to haul back to town by themselves. A perfectly convenient job when I already had to pull my own weight in the nephrite.

“Aye, said I couldn't avoid it forever. And this one doesn't sound all bad… That and I need to collect some materials while we're out. It's good timing.”

“Kiyomiii.”

Avery's eyes cocked sideways in my direction.

“I don't need some bullshit weighing us down.”

I remained silent, simply giving Avery puppy dog eyes. Something I'd spared the booby-spider from for some time.

“Ki-”

She sighed, clenching her teeth as she looked away.

“If you can keep ahead by one day, fine… but don't make me regret it!” 

She said, leaning in with her hands firmly planted on her haunches.

“Understood?”

I nodded happily.

“Oh, one other thing!”

I blurted out, taking the opportunity that Vaughn nor Beryl would usually allow.

 “Could I meet you all just outside town?”

Avery nodded.

“Sure, but why outside?”

She asked, her mandibles twitching some out of curiosity.

“Lapsha. It's a good opportunity to get him away from the sinkhole chapel. That and you could finally see why I like the little jelly bean.”

I wasn't entirely sure, but I'd always had a fuzzy feeling mentioning the red slime. It was like having my first puppy all over again. Even with a few years passing, I still couldn't get over it. Avery rolled her eyes in response.

“Fine, but if it eats any of the harvest? Your pay is cut. Are we clear?”

The click of her mandibles drove home the fact she wouldn't put up with my too many of my shenanigans.

“This isn't training, nor is it a romp around town. Scavengers may very well target us, so I hope that slime can fend for itself in the worst of circumstances. Understood?”

I nodded emphatically. 

“Yes'm.”

I must have been smiling brightly, considering Avery rolled her eyes. 

“The Egger homestead, 1200 hours. See you there.”

“Yes'm!”