At least learn how to spell your own bloody name, love

Darcy lost rock paper scissors and had to go back and ask for directions. Came back looking mighty embarrassed. Dunno where the hardass-looking lass from before went. Pull yourself together, you pansy.

“Follow me, I will show you all the way…” she said bashfully. One moment of embarrassment and you do a full character pivot? Christ, at least try to maintain the facade.

Me, Court and Jimmy followed a few steps back from Darcy as she tottered on down the street, taking a handful of turns along the way, before coming to a stop outside a quaint little shop. On the shop front was a sloppily painted sign that said “AZAYLƎA SMITHY.” I had been in this world less than a few hours and yet I was still dead certain it was spelt wrong.

“This appears to be the place.”

“...I reckons we’ve seen enough, we can go without.”

“Please stow your petty protests. We require this person’s help, whether you like it or not.”

“Bloody nora. Fine, let’s get this over with,” I sighed, stepping past Darcy and opening the door.

On the other side of the door was a collection of blacksmithing works an- Fuck me DEAD, cunt, what the FUCK is wrong with this bird’s tits? They look like enough of a mobility problem to warrant a bloody disabled parking badge. Me fecking spine hurts just looking at them. If she had a baby the little fucker would be eating like a king. Can’t even call that a rack, that’s a whole bloody shelving unit. Must be easy doing pressups your chest’s already touching the bloody ground. Pretty sure rocking a motorboat on those would count as a fecking cruise liner. Supporting those things must count as a full body workout. Does she get +5 to defence since half of her internal organs have twice the protection as usual? Does her gravitational pull affect the orbit of the Earth? Is there a mountain climber alive with the dexterity to conquer those twin peaks? Do you need an HGV license to operate those? Is open carrying heavy weaponry allowed in this world? Surely artilletitties like those must violate some sort of international law. Christ, the poor bint, must be one hell of a burden to bear. At least Frodo didn’t have to deal with a chronic bloody spinal condition from the one ring.

Right, was I talking about again?

Oh, yeah, the bint with the massive tits was stood at the very back of the shop, hammering away at something or other. Looked feckin’ boiling back there, the poor lass. Hardly wanted to take a step in. But alas, couldn’t stand around all day with me cock in me hand, could I?

“‘Ullo ‘ullo, this place Azalea Smithy?” I asked, trundling in with a wave. It really was feckin boiling. Open a window, love.

“Ah- hello! I’ll be right with you!” Said the blacksmith lass.

She gave the thing a good few more strikes, looked down at it, smiled with contentment, then turned back to talk to us and immediately put her hand on it. Should have heard the yelp, sounded like someone trod on a puppy tail. The pillock. All that growth to her tits, must have had none left for her noggin.

“Owowowowo…” she went, shaking her hand like a Scottish mum with a crying child.

“Y’alright, love?”

“I- ouch- I’ll be fine, promise! Happens a few times a week!”

“Ever thought of investing in some gloves? Or common sense?”

“Uhhh… can’t say I know what you mean by that.”

“You do surprise me.” Christ, this is gonna be a long bloody day, innit.

The lass took a moment to wrap some bandages around her already-bandaged hand (seriously, woman, buy some bloody gloves), then over she trundled, big wide smile on her face as if she didn’t do herself a mischief ten seconds ago. I’d respect it if I didn’t think it made her a right bloody loon.

“Welcome to Azalea smithy!” she said, with far too much energy for someone who spends her entire day half boiling to death over molten metal. “I’m Ellie Azalea, best blacksmith this side of the Anglish channel. Judgin’ by the way you look, you two must not be from round here. What brings a pair of foreigners to my humble shop?”

“We were advised to come here by Bailey, the innkeeper,” said Darcy, probably butting in to prevent me saying something insulting. “My companion and I are travellers from another world, foretold by the Drakonomicon to defeat the Great Dragon and prevent cala-”

“Woah, is that a true nomicon!”

Ellie the blacksmith lass practically ripped the book out of Darcy’s hand, much to the surprise of the latter. Looked more taken aback than when I freed Court from slavery. Good to know where your priorities lie, love.

“Y-yes, that should be proof enough that we are as we say, should it not?” she asked, but Tits McGee was too busy flipping through the pages like a curious child to reply right away.

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, this is enough, I believe you. So, what brings two legendary heroes here?” she said, trying to slam the book shut with one hand but fumbling and almost dropping it. Stop trying to look cool. Numpty.

“To be frank with ya, lass, we’re dirt bloody poor. Summoned with nuffin’ but the clothes on our back. Mate of yours at the inn ‘elped us out and all, but I don’t reckons we’re standing a nonce’s chance in jail of beatin’ a dragon with our bare bloody ‘ands, you get me?”

“...I’m sorry?”

“He means to say that we currently lack funds and equipment, and innkeeper Bailey recommended you as a place to remedy that issue.”

“Ah! I see! Sorry, I just assumed all the heroes would speak our language, my mistake,” she said cheerily. I am speaking your language, you thick tart. “Old Bailey sent you to the right place. Whether it’s magic or sword fighting, you’ll find no better place in the whole capital to get what you need. Azalea guarantee!”

She pumped her right arm, grabbing her bicep with her left, and shot us a toothy grin. I hadn’t noticed before because her other assets were too much of an eyeful, but the lass had more muscle on her than most blokes, let alone most birds. Makes sense for someone swinging a bloody hammer every day, I suppose, but christ, I wish I could have gains like that. Lucky mare.

“As the nomicon proclaims, I am the one chosen to wield the arcane might of fire. Might you have an implement to help me along my journey?” said Darcy. Christ, girl, you’re more into the medieval RP than the actual medieval folks. Tone it back, love.

“Do I ever! Hold right there, I have something I’ve been saving just for this moment!” said Ellie, bouncing back behind her smithing area. She leaned down to grab something from a hidden area beneath her workspace, and of course put her other hand on the boiling hot piece of metal this time. “Owowowow! Not my good hand!”

“Take your time, love.”

“Sorry, sorry!” she said, quickly bandaging one injured hand with another injured hand. Bloody muppet. “It should be… aha!” She popped back up, holding what looked like a big fuck off stick with a stone at the top. Not the sort of thing I’d expect from a blacksmith. “Don’t be fooled by how it looks, the wooden exterior is all magic. The staff itself is made of the finest magic-conducting steel in the country. The stone at the top is refined Homuratite, perfect for fire magic. Couldn’t ask for a better companion on your journey!”

She handed the ruddy great stick to Darcy, who took it carefully as if she wasn’t literally just told that it was made of feckin steel. By the slight stumble she made when Ellie let go, I could tell the thing weighed even more than expected. Or Darcy’s a right weakling. Could honestly be either.

“Sh-she’s telling the truth…” said Jimmy, who I’d honestly forgotten was here. “One look and I can tell it’s practically perfect. For someone who specialises in fire, there’s probably no better option…”

Kid’s eyes practically sparkled. Must be a bit of a weapon nerd. I’d take the piss, but I had my sword-collecting phase when I was a wee lad, and I’m many things but a hypocrite ain’t one of ‘em.

“I see…” Darcy eyed the staff up and down, inspecting every inch. It’s a stick, love, what are you looking for? A cupholder? “Are… you certain I can use this free of charge? This hardly seems to be a cheap implement, to say the least.”

“Ain’t a lot of point trying to sell it if my home’s a pile of ash, is there? Better for you to have it than some rich guy who’s gonna put it up on display,” she said, before giving a cheeky smile. “Besides, if it’s my weapons that take down the Great Dragon, business’ll be booming! Fame is the best marketing, right?”

I was surprised. Didn’t think there was a shrewd bone in the bird’s body, but it seemed she actually had a head on her shoulders. As far as business is concerned, anyway.

“I see. I shan’t let you down, you have my word.”

“You better not! I’ll curse you in my final moments if you do!” She laughed, before turning to me. “How about you, Mister…”

“Name’s Arch. I imagine I’m probably needin’ one of those big fuck off sticks an’ all. Got another spare, lass?” I asked, only to be met with a blank stare.

“H-he said he needs a weapon too…” said Court from behind me. Considering more people here understand me than don’t, I’m assuming the convenient truth that the blacksmith lass is just a bit dim.

“Right! As one of the heroes of legend, I assume you’re probably an elemental mage too, right? What’s your element? I’m sure I have something for you.”

“Uhhh…” feck, this is probably the sort of thing in that ruddy book, innit? “I, uh, I ain’t got a clue, to be frank.”

“You… you don’t know your element?” she asked, with a tilt of the head. “Surely it says in your nomicon?

Shite. Can’t exactly tell her I left it on the roadside in the pouring English rain, can I?

“I-I know your element…” said Court. Cheers for the last minute save, lass.

“Oh yeah? What am I? I gotta be something cool, right? Like the fluid power of water, or the unmovable strength of earth, or maybe the mysterious coolness of dark… it’s gotta be that one, right?”

“Wind.”

“Wind?! The tart with the tats gets the power of the feckin sun, and I get a light bloody breeze?!”

“The who, sorry?”

“Shut it, Darce. Come on, Court, you gotta double check, I must have something cooler than wind, right?”

“Wind users can fly.”

“What the fuck? Wind is fucking awesome, I love being a wind user, how the fuck do I fly?”

“You… really changed your tune quickly there…”

“I prefer to keep an open mind.” Come on, who wouldn’t be happy to hear they can fly? You know how much time that would have saved me every time the bloody M25 got jammed up? “Anyway, blacksmith lass, you heard the girl. Got anything for wind? One of those massive stick things or summat?”

“For wind? Of course I’ve got something for wind! What sort of two-bit blacksmith do you think I am!” she said, beaming a massive toothy grin. Then she hopped to the back of the shop again, carefully avoided putting her hand on the hot metal this time, didn’t pay attention to her feet and tripped over the workbench. Fell flat on her face, the numpty. Honestly, I had no idea how she had survived this long. She could make standing feckin still an occupational hazard, and she worked with molten bloody metal. Either god was smiling down on her, or laughing his arse off.

“You good, lass?”

“I’m fine! It happens from time to time!”

“Looks like it happens more often than that…” christ, girl, put some bubble wrap on the corners of your desk before you put your skull through it or something.

Anyway, without skipping a beat she grabbed another thing from beneath the workbench and stood back up, carrying it in her hands. Just like the other one, it had a big fuck off jewel at the top, except this one glowed green instead of red. It looked just as high quality as the other one, and way easier to wield. Mainly because…

“It’s feckin tiny!”

“Steel conducts magic from Kazetite far better than Homuratite, so you don’t need nearly as much of it! So for wind, we use wands rather than staffs.”

“You want me to fight a dragon with a feckin’ glowstick?!”

“I’m… not sure what a ‘glowstick’ is, but I swear to you there’s no better choice for a wind mage. After all, you don’t want a huge staff weighing you down when you’re flying, do you?”

“She’s right,” butted in Court, still a bit hoarse in the throat. “It’s perfect size for a wind wand. And the kazetite is incredibly pure too. You won’t find a better option.”

I looked at the stick Ellie was holding. By all means, they were probably right. I imagined it was probably the most practical option possible, and strong too, by the sounds of it. But christ, imagine watching a bunch of people fight a ruddy great dragon with swords and staffs and shite, while some bloke shows up with a feckin twig. I’d be a laughing stock.

Then again, I’d be a laughing stock in a world that doesn’t have the UEFA Champions League, so what point is there hanging around? I was just gonna kill the lizard and head on home anyway.

“Alright, alright, I’ll use the glowstick. Cheers, Ells. I owes ya one.”

“You’re… welcome? I think?”

“Ignore the ignoramus, the rest of us do,” said Darcy. I’d smack her one, but I figured that was probably a bad idea considering she now had the power to incinerate me. “By the by, you seem quite young to be a master of your trade. How did you come to be so proficient?”

“Spent my whole life in this shop, I have! My dad and his dad before him ran the place, so it was always gonna get handed down to me. I’ve been making weapons for as long as I’ve been able to hold a hammer. Though… that means I’ve never had a chance to use them myself…” she said, getting all wistful all of sudden. Must be close to the end of the chapter. She turned around and slowly walked towards the back of the shop, running her hand along the workbench as she did. “I always wanted to go on an adventure, but I couldn’t just abandon my family’s shop. So I stayed put. But my old dad always told me, ‘if destiny calls, listen. Don’t let the shop be your whole life.’ I was wondering if… perhaps… meeting the two of you was the call of destiny for me.” She turned around at looked at us both, then bowed like she was being knighed by the feckin queen. “Will you please take me along on your journey?”

“Not happening, love.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.”

“Why?!” she said, stepping forwards to stop us and immediately putting her hand down on the boiling hot metal again.

We turned and left before it got too awkward. Or at least before we could acknowledge how awkward it was.

Food eaten, weapons attained, clumsy disaster avoided. I’d say today was a solid day.