An Intriguing Meeting (Gwendolen & Hrafn)

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen followed the two men, in hope of finding shelter for the night. She hadn't slept inside, or close to a fire for months now
And, the feeling of it would sure be pleasant. Having his own smith, the man would for sure be wealthy, and would be an ideal man to pull into a trade. She looked around the streets for something of
Interest, but luck wasn't on her side. She heard the voice of the Isur, asking for her name, under the sound of hammers clashing against iron, and flagons clashing against tables.
-"You may call me Lawrence, sir." Without further words, she continued on.

[Hrafn Alaric]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"Hrafn is my name. I guess that will have to do. I'm an Isur, but I guess that's obvious." he grazed his right hand over his green tinted left hand.
Hrafn seemed to mutter to himself, to Mant's and Lawrance's ears it sounded something like "MharjmMantLawahshcel." He did that sometimes. Mutter at himself and zone out of this world. He was what people called eccentric. Essentrikk, funny word. He shook his head and got back into the real world after he bumped into an elder man. -"Sorry," he muttered as he stopped outside of a gray'ish brick building. The streets of cobblestone narrowed into the deep entrance. A simple wooden door barred their way, fastened with two metallic lines. Hrafn grabbed his key and unlocked the door.
-"In we go." he said as he smiled, pointing the two to enter.

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V. Mant looked on the interior. Half of the room was a small smithy, and the rest was a very narrow livening room with a narrow bed, a table and a couple of other things. All of them had some spots of sot. He went grudgingly to the table, sat down on one of the stools, crossed his arms and placed one leg over the other. "So. Can you tell me more in depth - what you present to me?" He asked when he had done that, looking on the Isurian when he came and settled at the table, too.

[Hrafn Alaric]

-"Simple." Hrafn said lightly as he sat on the opposite of Mant, pointing Gwen with his head to go and sit on the anvil if she wanted.
-"You work here for about 2-3 hours a day. You get a bedroll and a small space for yourself. When I get the Miza's, I'll buy the apartment above - which you will most likely own a small room aswell. You get weekends off and generally don't have to do a lot of work." Hrafn paused and examined the man. He looked intrigued, but would it really be enough?
-"And on the plus side, it's more or less a free space to live in!"

That oughta do it.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen sat down on the anvil, and gave him a nod as a sign of gratitude. She looked around, and observed the shelter with enjoyment. She dropped the sack on the floor, and an aroma of salt, fused with meat filled the room. Listening to the offer the man gave Mant. Wrinkling her eyebrows, she looked upon the Isur.
-"I don’t think that an apprentice would do. You seem to keep to crafting of weapons, which I'd advise you to stop with. What would happen if I were to spread word about your store, and sell your wares, while Sir Mant would gather wood, and make handles to 'mere kitchen knives? Yes, I am aware of that it doesn't sound to promising but, there's high demand on knives, and selling them with wooden handles would give you more profit, right?" Breathing out from her endless talking, she looked back at Isur with a smile.

[Hrafn Alaric]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"In theory, it could work." Hrafn stood from his chair, seemingly distant and wandered to the corner. An old barrel stood there, he rummaged through it and drew a small leather journal from it.
-"Ah. These were my father's contacts when he died. They should still be around. Some suppliers and some buyers."
He paused yet again, walking back and forth by the forge, in a deep state of thoughts. He seemingly gleamed up.
-"I just had a brilliant idea! You, Mant!" he paused and pointed at the tall man; "Can gather wooden shafts and iron and I can make knives out of them! And-and-and-and you!" he pointed at Gwen without stopping "You can spread the word!"

-"What a brilliant idea I just had!"

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V. Mant sat down and looked thoughtful. His brooding stare had changed to an unfocused one, and he looked through Hrafn like he did not exist. After some time he focused his stare again and said, with his beard waving softly while he spoke: "I accept the deal. The reasons is that a small area I won't pay for in a somewhat warm and liveable area is better than renting a room that stains my money source. 2-3 hours is fine. I need the rest of the day to find a job which fit into my skills. I am an adequate cook. So I think I can find a job at a local street kitchen. You don't need to buy me a bed roll. I already have one. The girl did say something wise. I don't expect our main customers will be knights and mercenaries. I cook my own food." He looked forward a bit more and then added: "I need to go to my apartment. For getting my stuff. Nothing much. And... The girl came up with the idea first. Don't worry, it's still good."

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen placed her face against her palm and with a sigh, she sighs at the speech given by Hrafn. She nods as an answer to Mant, but quickly adds a line.
-"You wouldn't mind to ask 'few of the drunkards around the taverns about the market prices? They tend to be rather accurate." She finishes her sentence with a smile, and to give her a major reason to stay in the house, she tilts her head to the right and speaks on.
-"I've got a deal to give you both tomorrow. 'Til then, I will stay here, if that isn't a problem with you, sir?" Without even waiting his answer, she lies down on the ground next to the anvil, curls herself to a ball and attempts to sleep.

[Hrafn Alaric]

-"Yes yes! The girl said it first. Chivalry is alive!" Hrafn called over the bunch as he flailed his arms. -"We start working tomorrow." Hrafn said on a more serious side, lowering his brow. He walked up to Mant; -"I truly am glad you're with us, old friend. Let this be a whole new adventure." he whispered.

Hrafn watched with watery eyes as Gwen lay down with curiosity. -"Stay here, abaab-ava, I guess so. Not like you gave me a chance, why nobody gives me a chance I don't know, I think I'm taken for granted sometimes." he said as he walked to his cot, talking to himself lower and lower until it was merely a hush tone.

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V. Mant nodded, rose himself up and departed the smithy. He looked with his glare on the masses of people, and went through them. Some hours later he returned to the smithy. He carried a big stack on his back wrapped in a greenish tilt, with two sticks - torches, obviously, - poking up from it, three saddlebags at the sides, a rope hanging from the side and a backpack hanging on all those stuffs again. His glare was more intense than usual, and when he reached the workshop he dropped it all on the floor close to the wall and settled himself at the table. He had paid for some (four) more days of stallkeeping for his horse, gotten something to eat and now currently looked around himself in the smithy.