𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐌'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 † THE WITCHER (ORIGINAL)

𝖎𝖎𝖎. 𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰

"Kindly watch where ya stand, Nazairian," his Kovirian accent was thick, his voice brusque.

"I am simply examining this notice from the board, it is not I who is in the wrong here," Ruselm pointed out. He noticed a mighty war-hammer hanging faithfully from the man's belt. Maybe he was more than a blacksmith? Anger suddenly forgotten and replaced with curiosity, Ruselm leaned forward in awe. "Excuse me, what's that fine weapon at your side?"

The man seemed surprised by his question but pulled it from his belt, holding it in the space between them so Ruselm could examine it. "This beauty?" He asked.

Ruselm nodded.

"I made 'er myself," the Kovirian proudly proclaimed, hint of a pleased smirk tugging the corners of his lips upwards. "A hammer made of steel and lined with the hard edge of diamond. Possibly the best I've ever made."

The author stood, awestruck, and reached out a tentative olive hand to touch the cool edge of the metal where diamond and steel met, mingled, and married. It was sharp to the touch, but Ruselm did not cut himself, he was careful. "It is the most gorgeous weapon I have ever laid my eyes upon!" He exclaimed with a small measure of excitement. "This is a fine work of craftsmanship, I congratulate you on your work!"

He inclined his head. "Thank ya, Nazairian."

"My name is Ruselm," the author bowed his head in way of greeting. He was growing rather fond of the large man even if they'd come off to a difficult start. There was something appealing about his blunt personality Ruselm couldn't quite place his finger on. It was refreshing! "You're welcome...?" Ruselm trailed off, hoping to be given a name for a face.

The man placed his hammer at his side once more, extending a calloused hand between them. His forearm was thick and edged with defined lines, twice the size of Ruselm's. His slightly cynical face was replaced now with a warm smile. "Vyrrentz," he introduced himself proudly. "Cadmin Vyrrentz. I hope ya will accept my sincerest apology, Ruselm of Nazair, I wasn't payin' attention and reacted poorly. It's not often," Cadmin admitted, "that someone challenges me. I'm far too big."

Ruselm waved Cadmin off, his own face brightening with a mixture of joy and curiosity as he took the Kovirian's hard hand in his own. "It's nothing. I am perfectly able to understand your viewpoint, honorable Cadmin. What has brought you here to Sodden?"

"Work." Cadmin let the word fall flat, as though he were displeased with it but attempting to cover the fact. He took his hand back and allowed it to rest at his side.

"Ahh," Ruselm nodded. He'd figured as much. Sodden was brimming constantly with colorful characters who came and went like the tides, their business usually pertaining to their livelihood. "What work would that be? Are you a blacksmith? Forge worker?"

Cadmin blew a puff of air from his cheeks. "Somethin' along those lines."

Curious.

Ruselm pointed a slender finger over Cadmin's shoulder. "Care to get a drink with me? I was thinking of going and talking to some travelers who've wandered here while I'm in. You could join me if you like."

His newfound friend considered the offer for a moment, brow furrowing as the cogs turned in his mind. Ruselm only had to wait for a few seconds. "Why not?" Cadmin shrugged and turned to lead the way to the Pig's Arse Tavern. That was actually the name—Pig's Arse. Lovely place. "I fancy a strong ale while I'm waiting."

"Waiting for—?"

There it was; Ruselm couldn't turn off his curiosity. His questions came one after the other endlessly, aiming to satisfy the wondrous nature he'd had since childhood. The nature that would (and still did, even now!) get him into countless spires of trouble and mischief with Maurits (well... without Maurits in his adulthood), who had decidedly been the opposite by preferring to let matters lie where they came from and not inquire more about them. Maurits accepted things as they were, but Ruselm always had to find a deeper meaning.