Having proven her worth and sworn to stand under Cera’s banner for what is about to come, Hob finally locates the swordsmith and refuses to play the game if its rules cannot clearly be stated.

---

It was morning, I had slept well. The first thing I noticed was the stench of Willa’s paste. It had worked, the bruises from the day prior’s axhandle were barely noticeable. Then I remembered Reese’s humiliation and my swearing banner-oath to Cera. So I had nothing to do today but wait for her to call me to task, just wait for my word to spread. 

Half awake, I laid and wondered what Pella was doing. Probably still asleep. It had only been a day since I had embraced and parted from her at the base of the Overlook but, after having shared a ship bench or tent for weeks, it felt like much longer. Time travels slower without a companion.

I played with the thought of tagging along on Cera’s next discrete resupply to the Sustainer’s camp. I didn’t have a cloak but I could surely acquire one by then. Maybe I would surprise Pella and we could figure out a place and time for later meetings, places that didn’t risk me being seen at the camp or her approaching Cera’s grounds. Maybe we would both need cloaks and I could bring her one as a gift. I liked that idea. I had hoped to figure out a way for her to come along with me when I approached Cadigan the Swordsmith to ask about the blade.

Then I remembered what Brynn, Pella’s free warden friend, had told us about the swordsmith. Threads rapidly reconnected and I leapt out of bed in a panic. Cadigan had been commissioned by Sayer to forge a sword. So Cadigan was aligned with Sayer. My allegiance to Cera would soon be known by many and, once Cadigan learned of it, he might be unwilling to aid an ally of his patron’s rival. So I needed to find him before word spread to him. I needed to find him now, alone and without Pella.

Gathering the blade, I rushed out of the longhouse and off the grounds, mumbling something about a personal matter and needing to tend to my gear to Verena as I flew past her. She responded with a questioning glare but I offered no further information. It was honestly not her business.

Roll: Face Danger, Shadow – Miss, Verena becomes suspicious and might look into my happenings (I thought the best way to reflect this failure was that Hob just didn’t even realize that this would be an issue, something that should maybe be concealed or navigated discreetly. Not only is she bad at lying, her brain is just not wired for subterfuge and so she sometimes overlooks the complications that can arise from bluntly navigating political situations.)

I later realized that me, a near stranger and recent banner-sworn, rushing off to meet with Sayer’s swordsmith, required more of an explanation, or, if not, at least more discretion than I presented. As one who does not skulk though, I had overlooked how something like that might appear. Just the first of many such oversights.

So I did not even think to steer towards the smaller narrow side streets, I strode down the wide path along the river to the Grain Market and then, following Brynn’s directions, turned west, crossing the large bridge over the Bas that lead to Torren’s Square. To be fair though, I was not yet familiar enough with Autumnrush to navigate anything but the main roads anyways and had I skulked the backroads and attempted to conceal my destination without getting lost, things would probably have been much worse down the road.

Roll: Gather Information, find workshop – Strong Hit

It was not obvious which workshop belonged to Cadigan. There were so many smiths and carpenters and carvers and leatherworkers and potters and weavers and bakers, all encircling a large dusty field. I had never seen so many artisans collected together, as if drawn to work in proximity to each other. None of the workshops stood out as those of a swordsmith, though I wasn’t really sure what a swordsmith’s workshop was supposed to look like. Like any other smiths’ but nicer maybe?

So I asked those I passed and was quickly directed to it. Cadigan’s workshop was the opposite of what I had expected. A shed like the others but smaller. Well, maybe the timber planks were newer and it seemed tidier than the others, but still just a shed.

The doors were locked shut and a knock got no reply so I waited. It was late in the morning and most of the other shops were open for the day. Maybe he was just a late riser. Either that or he was still away at Sayer’s camp as Brynn had warned. I hoped for the former and found a spot to wait on a small bench to the side of the doors.

I had been wondering why it was named Torren’s Square (clearly after Pemba’s companion, Torren the Dancer, but it was not one of her stories that I knew), when Cadigan arrived. He was young. Shorter than me but stronger, sturdy for his age. His light hair was cropped, as it is with most that work with flames, and his clothes matched their wearer, durable and new. He was not pleased to find someone at his door.

“I’m already behind today and it’s not a good time. What do you need?”

Roll: Compel, Heart, convince/barter – Miss, complication (Verena or other agent of Cera’s sees me talking to Cadigan and reports it back, as alluded to earlier)

“I was hoping you might be able to take a look at my blade. I had wondered if you’d ever seen one like it.”

He huffed, stepping past me to unlock and remove the chain from the doors.

“I said it is not a good time. I can’t do an appraisal right now. If you want to leave the sword and come back tomorrow, maybe I’ll have a chance to look at it by then.”

That was not possible. I wasn’t sure the blade would even allow me to leave it. The thought was painful. So I tried to gain his interest.  

Roll: Secure an Advantage, Heart – Weak Hit

“I’m sorry, I cannot leave it with you. The times are too dangerous to go a day without my weapon, you understand. I wasn’t hoping for an appraisal. I had just thought that the blade might interest you, as a swordsmith.” I removed the scabbard from my belt. “It seems old. Very old. But it’s sturdy and has never lost its edge. I thought maybe it might be of some benefit to you to see a fine blade such as this.”

His eyes squinted and his dismissiveness twisted to annoyance.

“You thought I might learn something from an old blade? You thought I still had lessons I needed to learn? That I needed to study others’ work to improve my own?” 

“No, I’m sorry, I meant it might be a curiosity to you, an artifact maybe. I did not intend insult.”

Pella had heard right, he was petty. This was going poorly. So I did what I always do when conversations go poorly and my desperation begins to surface. I told the truth, all of it.

Roll: Compel, Heart, +1 Storyweaver – Miss, make demand (baaad rolls)

I know I use telling Hob’s story/exploits a lot to activate the Storyweaver asset but I view Hob as someone that is convinced that her own story is both compelling and inspiring. She is a boastful storyteller and, in this situation, I thought the tale might be relevant and possibly interesting to a swordsmith. Also, every time I reveal her history to yet another person, the risk of it coming back to bite her later increases, as she continues to accrue enemies or create reasons for potential foes to want to find her. Starting now, I will try and make myself add a new detail to the backstory whenever I do so though.

I told him how I’d found the blade on the warrior that washed to shore. How the visions had soon followed, auroras and towers and fog. How the blade cried for my hand and pulled towards foes whenever I wielded it, pulled me towards them, towards the blood within them. How it sought its owner and how I somehow knew that owner was not me.

It was a steep tale to accept from a stranger and I doubt he believed me. It was an interesting one though and he, at least, seemed to have conceded that I would not leave him to his work with mere dismissals. He was unmoving though.

“Quite the story. Someone else’s kinblade, you claim? You’ll still need to leave it with me. As I said, I’m behind and busy and do not know when I’ll find time to examine it. Also, I do not appraise without exchange.” 

Again, I knew not else what to do. The blade howled but I needed to know, we needed to know. I would have to surrender it to him. Exchange though? I had no idea what was appropriate.

“I have a raidcaptain’s shield, taken in victory? I have a map of the eastern Barrier?”

His eyes rolled at my suggestions, “To be honest, right now you are an annoyance. I don’t have the time for nor do I want your task. What I do want is another balestone. Mine is fading and no one is offering them these days, at least not Reach traders, not with Lio in hiding and negotiations halted. I’ll need a balestone or you can find another swordsmith.” He smirked, knowing full well there were no other swordsmiths in Autumnrush or probably anywhere else along the coast.

A balestone! How would I  acquire one if he could not? Again, cornered, I agreed. I would figure it out.

I offered the sheathed blade to him. “Fine, I will come back for it though, and I will not react calmly if it is not returned. Good?”

As he took it, as I abandoned it, the blade cried for me, a wail. I blinked to prevent the tears from gathering.

“Good, and who are you? I will know the name of those I exchange with.”

I had told him my tale, I might as well give him my name. “Basira of Sota’s Gate. I will bring a balestone and you will tell me of the blade. And if you have nothing to tell me then I will take the blade and keep the stone, known?”

Roll: Endure Stress, parting with the blade, 2 seems reasonable – Strong Hit, Shake it Off

He had already stepped inside his workshop, scabbard in hand, to tend to his forge and begin his work. The barter was over and I was now removed from both the blade and Pella. Isolated and helpless, I returned to Cera’s grounds, where the day was about to go from bad to worse. 

---

“Would you care to tell me why?”

I did not understand. When I had returned to Cera’s grounds, Verena had been waiting for me, a cruel smile across her lips. She demanded I follow, leading me through the longhouse and past the hearth to Cera, seated atop her arbitor’s stool. I had never seen an arbitor’s stool before. It was simple, three legs, all wood. Not meant for rest or comfort, meant for passing judgment, attentive and inarguable. It sat upon a tall tiered platform so though Cera, who was shorter than me, was seated, she towered over me. She looked disappointed. She looked terrifying. So this was the authority of a clan chief, that of a clan chief’s daughter. Her eyes narrowed at my confused silence before repeating herself, her voice deep and firm now, reverberating through the hall.

“I would know why. Why on the morning after you swear banner to me and are told of future task, you would rush to meet the swordsmith. A man who, after the truce was broken, accepted commission from Sayer and has been traveling to and from their woodcamp for days? I would know if you have betrayed me!?”

I was startled by the accusal, I had not realized I had done anything wrong.

I stumbled, “I…I needed to speak to him of my blade.”

She glanced down to my belt, as if just noticing the blade was no longer there.

“And did you know he was under Sayer’s employ?”

I‘d known but had not connected the threads. “I did…but I needed to see him. He is the only swordsmith I know of.”

Leaning forward, her voice grew quiet but callous. “So knowing he was Sayer’s man, you snuck away to see him, and you thought this would go unnoticed?”

Roll: Face Danger, Heart, convince Cera I’m not a spy – Weak Hit; Endure Stress – Miss (this filled my failure track)

The insinuation hurt, she felt slighted and so I would be made to feel slighted. But I would not cower. I was recovering now, finding my footing. My fluster melted as the indignation ignited.

“Snuck away!? Unnoticed!? I do not skulk!” I glared at Verena. Had she followed me? Had she sent someone to follow me? Turning back to Cera, “I have trusted your words as truth but you would still treat me as an assassin, a spy? I hide nothing. I had business of my own, about my blade. It did not involve you or Sayer.”

Cera sat upright at my outburst. Startled by my defiance and my anger, as if no one had ever spoken to her in such manner. Verena tensed up, readying to physically intervene. Cera quickly collected herself though and, matching my tone, continued, almost at a yell.

“Then if you are no spy, if you hide nothing, explain yourself!”

Roll: Learn From Your Failures (full track) – Strong Hit, Make an Oath

Advance: Purchase Asset – Honorbound (+2 Turn the Tide, +1 Momentum on Hit)

Advance: Upgrade Asset – Honorbound, (+1 to Secure Advantage or Compel by telling a hard truth, +1 Momentum on Hit)

I hadn’t previously really thought of getting Honorbound as an asset. But when my failure track filled up, it felt like an appropriate time to make the Learn From Your Failures move as this scene was the culmination of a string of failed social rolls around navigating politics, allegiances, and secrets. It seemed like a logical breaking point for Hob to quit trying to play those games, she was no good at them anyways and the missteps were compounding. If that was the lesson learned, then dumping my XP into getting the hard truths upgrade for Honorbound really seemed to fit with Hob’s realization that she needed to be an unapologetically open book going forward.

Roll: Compel, Heart, re-earn trust, Honorbound +1 – Weak Hit

We were both yelling now, but I would not budge. I was sick of The Threes’ complicated webs of loyalties. I was sick of the Sustainers secrets. I was sick of trying to navigate the port’s politics and intrigues. I was sick of never knowing if I was saying too much or too little. I would not skulk, in deeds, nor words, nor motives. I had been flailing since the moment I’d arrived in Autumnrush and I was done doing so. I needed to push forward, with honesty and purpose, or I would find nothing but further failures.

“I am explaining myself! I approached Cadigan so he might examine my blade. The blade I found on a washed ashore corpse. The blade that speaks to me. The blade that demands blood. The blade that seeks its true owner. The swordsmith may know why these things are so and so now he has the blade and I will need to acquire a balestone to exchange for his appraisal.”

Cera looked like she was about to respond but I continued, not giving her the chance to speak. No longer at a yell but almost.

“The reason I left the Gate, the reason I joined with the Sustainers, was all to get me to Autumnrush so I could speak with that man. The only reason I stand here now is because the blade brought me here to do so. 

“So you will need to learn, I am sworn to you but I am not your vassal, owing you a share of my labor. I am not your bodyguard, having been tasked with your safety from birth. I stand under your banner because I believe your motives serve the settlement and they serve those I love in the camp. But I am not your hound. I am not to be collared. I have my own tasks that do not run counter to yours and I will pursue them as I see fit.”

I had run out of breath. 

“There, that’s your explanation. I will be your voice and your hand but I cannot do so shackled.”

Cera stared at me. Not in shock but contemplation. Verena was still tense, waiting for the order to act. I knew I had overstepped, nay, overleaped. I waited for the situation to escalate further, unsure how I would react. Cera finished her deliberation and leaned forward again. Her voice was calm now, composed and candid.

“I’m satisfied that you are no spy. A spy would not risk the consequences of taking that tone with me. I’m not yet convinced this will work though. That our threads will always run parallel to each other and our purposes will never cross. That one does not need to usurp the other. That one will not consume the other.”

Without the blade, I had no iron. But I placed my hand on my belt, where the hilt should have been, and vowed. “You will be convinced. Our successes will be your confirmation and you will grow to trust me as an ally, not as a servant.”

Roll: Swear an Iron Vow, Convince Cera to trust me and my autonomy (Banner-sworn asset does not benefit yet), Troublesome – Miss, press on, complication – Verena is actively working against me, to what ends or limits? I will need to convince her before I can truly win Cera over.

Cera shrugged, rising from the arbitor’s stool and descending the platform

“We shall see. For now, prepare yourself. I would like you to approach Lio tonight.”

And then, an afterthought as she strode past me.

“And Basira, in case you were considering it, do not ask him for a balestone. I would not want your request to be confused as mine. That would run counter to and impede my purpose and put us at odds with each other. If your task goes well, we will discuss acquiring one upon your return.”

The thought had crossed my mind, the Guide of the Reach likely having the easiest access to balestones out of all within Autumnrush, but I was thankful Cera had so clearly warned me away from that path and those repercussions.

As Cera left the hall, I turned to Verena. She was still tense, a haughty glare, disappointed with the argument’s outcome.

“Next time, you might just ask instead of prowling and watching, good?”

A huff and a puffed out chest were her only answer, before storming back out of the longhouse to the grounds. She was a problem that I would need to address soon. I had little chance of regaining Cera’s trust without first finding truce with her childhood bodyguard. Another pressing matter, I would need to find some sort of weapon. I hoped I would not need one before retrieving the blade but, those days, I was finding my hopes weren’t frequently realized.