The group had been on a new track. Day, with her sense of direction and ever critical map, assured everyone they were heading in the right direction. They’d dumped out of the mountains and foothills, down into the heavy forestation. Here instead of pines, cottonwoods released their fluffy namesakes onto the party. Summer snow drifting on soft windy eddies. With the warm sun, the path widened out to brown patted dirt. A clear effort to grade the way helped travel immensely. Here and there a few flattened rocks made travel much easier than up in the mountains. Their speed increased. On the edges, gentle ditches on each side had random trash of travelers strewn into it. Tattered clothing and degrading weapons being the most popular item, closely followed by broken wooden barrels and wheels.

  Three days gone, without a note of music or interest. Now though, they could see the signs everywhere giving them a countdown to the next “Exit” of “World’s Most Valuable Weapons!” Like the bandit’s town, most of them expected a tiny shop with a few tchotchkes. The subtle reveal ahead of them was anything but underwhelming.

  The storefront, the building sized more like a warehouse, stretched out farther than expected and sported the name, “Smith’s Weapons” in a huge metalwork announcement. The building itself didn’t have any of the signs of a smith near the front but appeared to be only the storefront. In the distance, a much bigger building could be seen along with several burly men going in and out with one testing a blade by whacking at cottonwood trunks under the watchful eye of an older man who appeared to be shaking his head about the use of the blade over and over again.

  As they moved closer, more of the building became visible. Other top it gleamed with various metal scripts affixed to it. Underneath it, the old, whitewashed bricks barely peaked out between features. The graying whitened bricks were well packed with mortar and they saw no ways in, no windows, just signs and signs and signs saying “Smith” in various ways. Finally, they saw a metal working of a pointed arow flattened and battered and ugly.

  “Are we sure this is a good place to stop?” Spoon sniffed. “I’m not sure if this is quite up to the standards we expected.”

  Laural scoffed at him. “Look at you, mister picky! Too good for a store now? Come on. Grow up. We need weapons, not a fancy introduction man or other signs that we can’t afford it. I bet this place had price points for all sorts of people and we are exactly all sorts and not flush with cash like one of those artisan lone shops would need.”

  As they came around to the front entrance, they saw the huge metal construction doors. Around the door, the front had metal everywhere. Small sculptures stuck into the ground at odd abstract angles, usually with sharp edges. None of it needed stored inside because moving it would take the combined efforts of many people with plats and plates and pallets and plateaus. And who would want to deal with this monstrosity?

  One of these odd features or art pieces had slabbed ores on top of ores on ores just to see what would happen. It made a strange brick face that couldn’t stand and had to support itself against the brick building. Another had spines in every direction, a pointed sea urchin with the length pull the metal somehow by use of an insane strength that nobody could have accomplished at an insane distance. Yet the sunlike pieces shot out the off color strange yellow rays proudly. One couldn’t describe all the different things in one go, but thankfully, the door was propped open. They could escape the strange metal graveyard or grave ward of failed projects that might have fascinated someone with more time and less interest in getting new blades that functioned more effectively than what they’d seen so far.

  The inside they’d lit by huge industrial metal bowls that held in them iron shy willow the whisp. Will o’ the wisp (a close cousin but not the same as willow whips) were considered not good lighting do to their noise but with the building so high hand so much iron to keep them stymied they only let out a faint spitting noise no louder than a fires crackle. The odd intermittent sound gave the place a slight buzz of light and a faint sense of movement even though their light was reasonably steady. Still, it created many reflections all around and that proved to make the less bright and glinting metals flash and shimmer like each one might be contain visible enchantment or special power.

  They were presented immediately with a display of what could only be kitchen knives. Many beautiful matching sets with names like “The Elves Last Breath” and “Deal to Stew!” all with prominent signs that exclaimed about the cost of the bladed wears. This display sat on a wood shelf that might have once been a cart repurposed into a shelf. High on each wall, clung metal insets filled in with all manner of metal work one could imagine, blades and weapons were shown but the same as raw ores in piles to the left side of the wall, and down other hallways they could see much better or at least more reasonably sized sculptures and discernable as whales, orcs, and flutes, making up one hall.

  The metal shelves went to the top of the building, only letting up short spaces for the bowls of willow the whips. This was much more than just a place for weapons, but true metal working displayed from what could only be many, many different makers. A lot of workers for such a large building in the middle nowhere, but then perhaps they had their own ways of protecting themselves. Most locations without walls did have specific anti-monster methods.

  “Welcome weary travelers,” called out a male voice far in the back. “Have you stumbled upon my humble shop or have you been sent?”

  He made it sound singsongy. It also sounded rehearsed.

  A rather thin little reptilian appeared his muzzle frowned slightly at them but then broke into a big grin.

  “Strangers! Can I interest you in the best cutting knife set you’ve ever seen?” He produced three tiny knives that matched the entrance displays and deftly tossed and caught all three in a beautiful show of juggling that impressed none of them unduly.

  “I’m seeking nunchucks, and without that a blade, and or maybe a spear?” Bodi bulled into the conversation with the strange creature. In closer view under the wisp light, the shopkeeper stood only three feet high but wore a very elegant garment of interwoven, blue-tinged chainmail. A few strange octopi-like purple tentacles pulsed around his neck. A symbiote pairing to a reptilian sub-species nearly never happened, but there were more strange things in this and any world than anyone could imagine.

  “My last spear broke, and the one before that, and the one before that! I need something that I can use to spear a walrus and lift over my head. At least a cyclops worth of lifting!”

  The reptilian tilted his head. “I’m afraid you need to tell me the weight of these walruses.”

  “Fine, spear an elk!”

  “A little elk or a big elk? Between the ranges of weight is really much more helpful.”

  “A big elk. The big old mossy horn of elk that can bash all the little ones. Bigger than a Boar-Bear, and helpful against one too?”

  “Boar-Bears require different steels if you plan to steal from them. The magical properties of silver tips cannot be ignored. What about something enchanted?” The reptilian stowed his kitchen knives and began pointing back into the masses of boxes.

  “We keep the sharpest things in the far back. It keeps the younglings from cutting themselves when they come to visit. That and off-worlders never work with big shops. Too confusing.”

  Bodi nodded knowingly. “Can’t trust those young things or anyone with a questline.”

  The reptilians flicked his tongue in and out then made a strange hissing noise. “Indeed. Be sure to not cut yourself, young master.”

  Bodi puffed himself up. “I’m an excellent hand with spears. But don’t be handing me curved blades. They’re so unwieldy.”

  His voice got lost as he burrowed deeper into the bowels of the ancient building, following his guide. The rest of them spread out seeking their own weapons to work with for the future. They split up either by choice or due to the strange maze-like construction in the arrangement of the goods.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  It wasn’t exclusively metal work although that made the main portion. Bows and things to polish and clean and a few drinks and snacks to wash the throats of road dust or the dust of the shelves from shoppers. Some of the party like Bodi went in with some kind of explanation of where they wanted to go while others just forayed into it, unaware and hoping to see what caught their eyes.

  Nettle knew his objectives. He knew of a great deal of ores and weapons that Fae could use although they generally ground iron and silver to wield. But in a place this building, old and well stocked, he might be able to find original ingots of Platinum-special-sauce and get it mixed into whatever he wished to have. It was a rare opportunity for himself and even if he could get nothing whatsoever to bring anything back for his own kind, he could market that for a huge profit to anyone. Although five sets of ornamental aglets leaped into his hand by accident during the more financially smart mission. These he absentmindedly tucked into his robes to keep his hands free. So, he went searching high and low for any old weapons that might possess any of the rate materials or any unusual substances. Platinum-special-sauce ore was the most common but other more unusual items could be used as well.

  For this reason, he largely ignored the bigger sections and areas. Most would not buy such archaic items. He found himself unhappily digging through ancient creations, crusted in mothballs, far in the very back corner. He’d had to wind his way through metal piles and pipes that appeared to be construction equipment. He briefly paused as magical metal materials but mostly saw the type of things those who didn’t know how to spell but believed too much in magic might use. Still, it was only fair to check back at this spot later, if he got the chance. The metal shelves went deeper and deeper and deeper still, until he found himself walking through plate armor.

  While plate armor could be used for many things, chainmail and plate were not typically used during travel due to the weight on the horses. The lack of mobility got overblown, but nobody Fae or elf, with the pictures of metal armored world-enders, wore that stuff after the war. It symbolized utter ruin and accepting no authority, often being an off-worlder with a knight coded. Plus, the plate was expensive stuff too, usually more effective for certain types of combat over others. Orcs tended to eschew armor in order to keep their overlords from immediately throwing them into the front lines to die. Preference to weathered leathers kept smart orcs alive longer. Especially if they could get proper enchanted leathers by their own makers. Those could have all sorts of unusual properties and some even stronger than what normal plate armor could provide. He did not know if Bodi had any. Orcish cultivators never got much of a chance with their stability of nation rarely allowing the knowledge transfer required.

  Still though, Nettle inspected the wooden barrels and bright orange boxes with equal interested. Even a few off-worlder Pelican cases in tans or gray-greens. Probably filled with military spec grenades and ammo. He carefully put his hands together. It was not a common Fae spell and in fact most considered it a hedge witch spell, therefore not to be performed as a superior castor. But Nettle already eschewed the typical lifestyles of his people.

  The spell did require a drop of pure fairy blood to perform, and he carefully pulled off the tiny scab of his bug bite on his neck and prodded forth the required materials. Nobody who used their hands did dramatic hand cuts. Those things never healed and hurt. For some castors, the blood of a Fae with no impurities might be hard to obtain, but then he had himself to work with. He then pulled a hair of his own and stuffed it on the tiny blood spell.

  Nettle guttered out the words of the lost language even he barely knew. The rough translation he knew of should be “Mo money, now, Shiitake mushroom farts.” His translations of a dead language before the war and banished-Fae weren’t exactly perfect. Whose would be? The spell didn’t have a terribly long range, but then most people wouldn’t let you get out your blood lasso of living hair and walk around their shop either. Many counted it as a useless spell even among the species that created it. He’d learned it as a prank.

  As he watched and waited, the blood bobbed up, the hair pulling on it. He held the hair, following the tiny little droplet as it first swing along the loop, going back and forth in a pendulum motion until it pointed. Each step he took made it start swinging everywhere again, so it took a very long time to use. He touched the droplet against various boxes, having to go around shelves and through even odder sections of storage. Upon touching the correct box, the blood droplet plodded into the large wood box. The spell needed to finish the steps, though. As he watched the blood itself shriveled up to nothing, leaving only the hair which abruptly turned into a tiny spit of fire before also disappearing.

  Whomever thought this spell was useless had never tried to clean up a mess of fairy blood before. That alone would make it a powerful cleaning spell. He wondered if he got a lot going just how well it would clean then?

  He shook the considerations of cleaning and potentially hair cutting applications, to stare at the box. It was no different from many of the boxes on the lower shelves. The box had boxes stacked on top of it and tucked in close around it. The deep storage portion of the shop, since who could keep everything useful and expensive visible in the front.

  He carefully tried to dust off the label. Not much to see here, but with enough blowing he saw cer-on-AR gold leaves. He squinted at it. Ceremonial armor gold leaf. Or gold leaves? The most valuable item didn’t necessarily translate into the most useful to you item or even into partially useful. Just because something costs a lot doesn’t automatically turn it into useful on a long trip traveling, still he wondered about it, feeling intrigued about the matter. His hope had been the spell would have given him Platinum-special-sauce. Not, whatever this stuff could be.

  He checked other boxes around and most of them said various things about armor or ceremonial whatever.

  Then it struck him trucklike and truculent, it said gold leaves. Not gold leaf. A thrill ran through him.

  Artemis had a tree with three gold leaves, and Eris apples. Or so the old stories said. Gold leaves were extremely hard to find and most believed they did not exist. They were arguably a total myth or in fact something that never quite did the things they all claimed it could. Magical enhancement and other abilities. Finnicky to fit, he recalled, but then who could get the right fit when they couldn’t even agree if the thing existed in the first place.

  He carefully marked the box itself with a slight cleaning of the top dust leaving his own thumbprint on the container. Carefully he searched his way back to the more accessible and easily usable portion of the shop. Not that it mattered much in the end, the sound brought him back to the center. Bodi was narrowly missing a shelf of miniature sculpted Fae heads with a spear far too long for him as he clashed and clattered around in the lines of spears, polearms, and other long directional reach weapons. It was making the little reptilian give him squeaks and shouts as he darted around trying to make sure to maintain the shop’s structure. Only the frantic tentacles made it possible to keep things in order.

  “What about this?” Bodi dropped the heavy weapon into the hands of the angry reptile, snatching up another spear shorter in style.

  “Didn’t you star this by saying you wanted it to lift things?” the reptilian hissed. “Oh, do be careful with that. It’s entirely ornamental for putting on a wall!” He sisshed and hissed. “Please put it back.”

  “Oh, but the jewels are so sparkly.” Bodi dumped the spear over his head when he saw an even shinier jewel on the next spear. The tentacles shot out well beyond seven feet to grab it and place it back. If tentacles could be annoyed, these were.

  “Excuse me,” Nettle patted the nearest tentacle that straightened a shelf, “but I have a question about products in the back?”

  “The back,” the reptilians half eyelids flickered arose twice before he hissed. “You mean the deeper halls. This is an open warehouse. We don’t; have a back the way you things think about it.” Talking might be harder when wielding several extra arms or maybe even brains.

  He was getting flustered by Bodis ability to pick up expensive things and discard them with complete disinterest if he damaged it.

  “Look at this!” exclaimed Bodi picking up a fully wooden weapon. “For staking vampires at distance? Do you think Spoon wants one?” He asked. “Terribly useless unless you want it to shatter or if perhaps it’s been hardened.”

  “That is an ancient spear from the Quin-Zon dynasty. Very expensive and fragile please give it back.”

  Bodi distracted the shopkeeper by tossing the spear from hand to hand with disinterest. “Historical value? You mean I can’t stake the head of a griffon on it by my front door?

  “You could throw it at whatever you aim at. It’s just the logical cost and loss to all of humanities understanding of historical past would be lost because you wanted to make an edgelord display outside your home.” With a condescending tone he added, “We have replica spears if you would like. For people who want to make a show.”

  “Excuse me about the things in the deep hall.” Nettle managed to resist poking the tentacle. “What is most of it?”

  The shopkeeper turned his body but not his head towards the more responsible and rich customer, even while flickering his tongue out at Bodi with intense concern.

  “Nobody is quite all sure what’s in the back there. This building has a host of masters, past and present, who will bring their goods in from afar. Where was is located?”

  “In with the plate male and armor, but it was a box piled under many other boxes. I’m curious to buy it.”

  The reptilian gave a hiss. “I can’t just run back there and look at whatever you have. What did it say on the box label?”

  “How should I know? Half the words were rubbed off. Something about ceremonial armor I think?”

  The lizard carefully rearranged the stands and darted out a hand to stop Bodi picking up a metal and glass globe. He instead got another jewel encrusted spear without any notable tip just a bottom end.

  “This is not going to help you with if you need it ended with pointy bits.”

  “Right, right,” Bodi continued his one orc storm through the shelves.

  Off in the distance a huge crash and clattering could be heard from one of the many shelves. The reptile darted his head in one glance down that way and gave a grunt. “That’s it. I’m fetching the boys to come help you all! You need more than just me to help you all friend the junk you need.”