Sounds like a crackin' bloke

“þough I’ve still work to do myself, I shall be closing þe shop very soon,” Eleanor said, wiping the sweat from her brow as she seemingly finished hammering yet another piece. This was one she had been working on for quite the while at this point; it was a zweihander, and a heavy one at that. Seemingly content with her work, she began quenching it the large barrel of cold water next to her. “I must say, I had myne apprehensions wen you suddenly asked to assist me, but you’ve indeed been a grate help today. I sincerely þank you for youre work.”

“Ah, it was no problem at all. And you’ve 'elped me out a lot in kind.” I was sat behind the shop counter, counting up all the money that had been made that day. It was something Eleanor had taught me about in the moments when there was no one in the shop. She had also taught me to read the script used here, though it was remarkably similar to our own. The letters all vaguely resembled their Earth-Latin equivalents, with the exception of the extra three letters that didn’t exist in our world. The ‘th,’ ‘ch’ and ‘sh’ sounds had all been given their own letters, but that was relatively easy to get used to. With those two basic skills learned, I had taken the role of money counting and bookkeeping, giving Eleanor more time to get on with smithing.

“þis day I managed more handiwork þan I have done in a long whyle. You saved me much tyme managing þe menial work.”

“Honestly I can ‘ardly believe you managed to run this place on your own as a teenager. I 'ad no idea 'ow much went into running a simple shop like this.” The only places I had worked back home were businesses large enough to have middle managers and the like, so the work was more dispersed. Running a shop like this hardly felt like a one man job.

“In truþ, I was not entyrely wiþout help. After my faþer's passing, a kyndly craftsman to whom I owe more þan I could ever repay did all he could to help me remane afloat. He was an old frend of my faþer’s, and even now he treats me as his own niece. He gave many hours of his own tyme assisting wiþ menial work and money keeping, and he refused to patronyse any smiþy but myne own. Truly, wiþout him I doubt my bisness would hath survyved my ferst years at þe helm.”

“Sounds like a crackin’ bloke.”

“Pardon?”

“He sounds like a really good person.”

“Ah. Yes, I owe him much, yet he asks for noþing. He even found tyme to assist me whyle raising his own son. Men of his good nature are few and far between.”

That was unfortunately something this world and my own seemed to have in common. For every honest man with a good heart, there were three scumbags with thoughts for no one but themselves. Still, this craftsman she talked about sounded like a top lad, I kind of wanted to meet him myself.

It wasn’t long before I was done counting through every penny that had been made that day, and shortly thereafter I also finished totalling up the costs and calculating the profits for the day too. The shop had made a total profit of Two Igris Pauns and Twenty One Pense, which I was given to understand was quite a good haul.

“Think that’s everythin’ all done and dusted. Sorry if there’s some weird spellin’ in there, seems like my world and yours ‘ave some differences on that front.”

“As if youre queer way of speech had not already indicated as such.” Despite the sarcastic remark, I saw a slight smile curl onto Eleanor’s face. “þank you once more for youre assistance today. I still have much to do, but as closing time has come and gone I’ve no more work to ask of you.”

“In that case I’ll ‘ead on back to the inn. Sees you in a bit, Eleanor,” I said as I headed for the door.

“Ah, wait a moment!” Eleanor suddenly called, just as I went to open the door. “I’m afraid I cannot compensate you fynancially, but to show myne appreciation for your hard work, I wish to bestow upon you þis.”

Eleanor approached with something in hand. That thing turned out to be a beautifully crafted knife, roughly the size of an M9 bayonet but with smooth edges instead of serrations, and a wooden hilt refined with an expert's touch. One look was enough to tell me it was of great quality

“Are… you sure? It looks like this took a lot of work, wouldn't it be better for you to sell it?” I asked.

“True, ‘twould fetch a pretty penny, but still less so þan a full day’s work. And, if I’m not mistaken, you yet carry no weapon? If I’m to entrust Emma's protection to you, I must ensure you've þe means to do someþing, must I not?” She spoke with a gentle smile, an expression I had seen very little of from Eleanor. It seemed I had at least partially earned her trust and respect.

“I… thank you. This means a lot to me.” I carefully took the knife and it’s leather sheath from Eleanor’s hands, before putting the sheathed knife in my trouser pocket. It was quite heavy for its size, clearly made of some dense steel alloy. I was certain Eleanor had spent a significant amount of time on it.

“Aye, I’m sure it does. Now, keep þe lady wateing no longer. I shall join you later þis eve.”

“Right, she’s probably bored bloody stiff. Sees you in a bit, Eleanor. And cheers again for the knife!”

I headed out the door, closing it behind me and flipping the small wooden sign to ‘closed.’ Dusk had begun to descend, and the somewhat clouded sky was bathed in a dull glow. Judging by the noise from the nearby streets, however, the imminent setting of the sun was not enough to set this town to sleep.

The way to the inn included passing a couple side streets of the commercial district, which still saw it’s fair share of businesses and customers despite the late hour. Butchers and leather workers, farmers and fortune tellers, the streets were lined with people buying and selling most anything you could think of in this kind of world. I wondered if any of them were the kindly craftsman that Eleanor had spoken about, though none that I noticed really fit the bill.

It was as I was walking along that street, however, that a commotion up ahead caught my attention. And the attention of most of the people nearby too.

A horse-drawn wagon was making its way down the road, but had come to a stop as something blocked it’s way, the driver having descended from his seat to confront the nuisance. The shape of a woman, sword planted on the ground defiantly, stood unmoving before it. Though she was dressed in the clothes of a commoner, a single look at the short white head of hair was enough to tell me straight away who it was.

“Emma?!” I said aloud to myself, though I doubted I had any need to use that name. I would be surprised if the man in the cart had not also immediately recognised the figure before him.

“Release þy captives at once and I shall spare þee. Resist, and I will strike þee down where þou standest!”

There, in a street full of people and with unwavering conviction, Alice Edelweiss made her proclamation.