At the main hall, Borin’s group headed straight for the stall that sold swords, blades, and armor. As they approached, a skeleton staff, dressed in a sharp suit and tie with the sa wooden mask as the Dungeon Manager, stepped forward. He bowed slightly, politely. "Welco, valued custors. What can I do for you today?" his smooth, synthesized voice asked.
Borin felt a bit uneasy by the sudden professionalism. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. "Uh... we... would like to check your products." He puffed out his chest, trying to look as professional as the skeleton. Brum and Skall also tried to straighten their postures, adjusting their clothes to appear more formal.
The staff chuckled slightly, a dry, soft sound, as if understanding their unease. "Of course, right this way," he said, his hand gesturing deeper into the stall.
As they followed him inside, their eyes widened. Even though they weren’t experts in blades like the Lupens, they were surprised by what they saw. Swords, daggers, axes, and armor plates hung on display. Each piece was beautifully designed, down to the smallest detail.
Every sword had a unique pattern on its blade, and the guard, grip, cross-guard, and poml were all crafted with intricate artistry. These were much more beautiful than anything they had seen back in Stonehorn Crossing. They rembered how a single stall there had sold every masterpiece sword to a lucky few and all its products were gone in less than six hours.
The Goatfolks had been interested in how quickly it sold, wondering about the marketing strategies. Normally, they would sell their products by telling stories about them, no matter the quality. This kind of sales talk always worked for them, helping them upsell prices. But here, they didn’t need a story. It was like each sword told its own story just by looking at it.
The staff noticed their awe. He continued, his voice calm and persuasive, "As you can see, our collection is curated for those who appreciate true craftsmanship. Take, for instance, our swords." He gestured to a rack of gleaming blades. "While iron is a common tal, ours are forged with a unique tempering process, ensuring a balance of strength and flexibility. Each blade undergoes rigorous shaping, giving it a superior edge retention. They are not rely tools; they are reliable companions, designed for resilience and everyday use, yet possessing an understated elegance."
He then moved to a display of steel swords. "And then we have our steel collection. These blades are a testant to enhanced durability and a finer edge. The steel is folded and hamred multiple tis, removing impurities and creating a denser, more resilient structure. Notice the subtle sheen, the way the light catches the surface – a hallmark of true quality. These are for those who demand a step above, a blade that will serve them faithfully through countless challenges, retaining its sharpness and integrity."
Next, he guided them to a section with smaller weapons. "Our daggers, axes, and knives are crafted with the sa dedication. Each dagger, whether for utility or defense, is perfectly balanced for quick, precise movents. Our axes are designed for both cutting and striking, with a weight distribution that feels natural in the hand. And our knives, from utility blades to fine carving tools, offer unparalleled sharpness and longevity. They are extensions of the wielder, crafted for comfort and efficiency."
Finally, he led them to a velvet-lined display case, bathed in a soft, focused light. Inside, a few pieces glead with a distinct, wavy pattern. "And here," the staff said, his voice dropping slightly, "we present our Damascus steel. This is not rely tal; it is art. Each Damascus blade, whether a compact knife, a swift dagger, or this singular katana," he gestled to a long, curved sword, its blade shimring with intricate patterns, "is the culmination of ancient forging secrets and countless hours of ticulous labor. The distinct ’water pattern’ you see on the surface is not rely decorative; it signifies layers of different steels folded together, creating a blade that is incredibly sharp, imnsely durable, and astonishingly flexible. It holds an edge that few other tals can match, and its beauty is simply unparalleled."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "This katana, for example," he continued, his voice almost reverent, "is a piece commissioned by a discerning collector. It is a blade that whispers tales of honor and precision. Owning a Damascus steel weapon from the Necro Market is not just acquiring a tool; it is acquiring a legacy, a statent of refined taste and unmatched quality. It is for those who understand that true value lies not just in function, but in the artistry and history imbued within every fiber of the material. This is a piece that will be passed down through generations, a testant to the pinnacle of craftsmanship."
The Goatfolk were still in awe, their eyes wide, their usual chatter silenced by the sheer beauty of the blades. Skall, finally finding his voice, raised a hand. "Uhh... question," he mumbled, a bit intimidated.
The skeleton staff nodded politely, his masked face unchanging. "Please," he invited.
Skall cleared his throat again. "Uhhh... I... we... would like to know how much ti each piece takes to craft?" He tried to sound casual, but his voice betrayed his eagerness to understand the production capabilities without asking too directly. It was a common question, but he aid it to sound respectful.
The staff nodded slowly, as if considering the depth of the question. "A most excellent inquiry, valued custor," he replied, his voice calm and asured. "Each of our blades, from the simplest iron dagger to the most exquisite Damascus katana, is not rely made, but born through a painstaking process. It is a testant to hundreds of restless hours of precision, dedication, and the mastery of ancient crafting techniques. Every hamr blow, every fold, every polish is perford with absolute focus, ensuring that the spirit of the craftsman is imbued into the tal itself. Thus, each sword takes considerable ti to be finalized, waiting patiently to find its new, worthy owner. We believe that true quality cannot be rushed, and the ti invested reflects the unparalleled perfection of the final product."
The staff’s words were a carefully constructed lie, designed to enhance the perceived value. In truth, each blade, fresh from the forge, was crafted with surprising speed—just eight hours from raw ingot to a finished blade. This was thanks to Karl’s innovative use of elental stones.
Each blade, still glowing hot, was exposed to controlled amounts of air from specialized flow stones, allowing for complete control over the cooling speed and the resulting hardness. Once the blade was perfected, the poml, grip, and cross-guard, ticulously crafted by the artisans, were attached, making it a complete sword, ready for its beautifully crafted scabbard.
Upon hearing the answer, the Goatfolk were a bit disappointed by the fact they could not sell it en masse, though they tried not to show it. While the beauty of the blades certainly justified the implied long crafting ti, it ant limited supply. It was truly a craftsmanship worth respecting; it felt like buying it for re silvers wasn’t enough. They felt like the owner of these swords still needed to achieve a certain worthiness, a sense of personal accomplishnt to match the blade. It was like seeing an ugly man with a beautiful wife—a mismatch that felt almost wrong.
Borin gulped, his eyes still fixed on a particularly ornate steel sword. He knew he had to ask, despite the likely answer. "So... uhhh... how much are they worth exactly?" he asked, his voice a little strained, awaiting the inevitable, shocking answer.
The staff seed to glide closer, maintaining a respectful distance. "The price, my esteed custor, varies significantly from piece to piece, reflecting the material, the complexity of its design, and the hours of dedicated artistry poured into its creation." He then reached out, his skeletal fingers surprisingly delicate, and took a curved iron sword from a nearby rack. It nearly looked like a scimitar, but still had this subtle vine pattern on the blade that seed to demand respect. "This one, for example, a masterpiece of tempered iron, costs 2 gold."
The Goatfolk nearly coughed blood. Two gold for an iron sword? That was unheard of! Borin’s jaw dropped. Skall’s eyes bugged out. Brum let out a low whistle.
The staff continued, unmoved by their shock. He held the sword aloft, the blade gleaming under the soft light. With a practiced, fluid motion, he swung it through the air. The blade cut through the silence with a sharp, clear SHiiiiing, a sound that spoke of perfect balance and razor-sharpness. He then produced a small, fine silk cloth from his sleeve, letting it rest gently on the edge of the blade. Without any visible effort, the cloth parted, falling cleanly to the floor in two pieces. It was a justifiable testant to its price.
The Goatfolk were amazed. They clapped, a few of them even cheering. "Holy smokes!" Brum exclaid, his eyes wide. "Did you see that? Just... sliced it! Like it was air!"
"That’s not just sharp, that’s unnatural," Skall whispered, his usual bravado replaced by genuine awe. "I’ve seen Lupen masters struggle to get an edge like that on their best steel, let alone iron!"
Borin, still processing the price, felt a new wave of understanding. "Two gold... for iron," he mumbled, then looked at the staff with new respect. "But with that kind of edge... that’s not just a sword. That’s a tool that saves lives. That’s a weapon that ends fights before they even begin. That’s... that’s worth it." He was already calculating the potential markup, the stories he could tell about this demonstration alone. This wasn’t just about selling a product; it was about selling an experience, a level of quality that commanded its own price.
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