Being able to choose my own equipment from an armory was something of a new experience for me. In the past, whenever I was setting out on a mission from my operator or one from a warbreed base while undercover, I was given gear from armories or told to retrieve gear from armories. I was never given a choice of what to get or what was given to me, those decisions were made above my rank. So as I walked slowly around the weapon and armor store whose name I still didn't know while the owner was away appraising my gear, I found myself somewhat impeded by indecision. If I took the time to analyze every choice in depth I'd be here for at least two days, I thought.

“Well sir, it looks as though it is your lucky day indeed,” I heard the owner of the store say as he thumped back down the stairs at the back. I quickly pretended to be examining a halberd-looking weapon mounted on the wall, then looked over to him once he was on the ground floor again.

“So it's valuable then?” I asked. The owner had left a few minutes earlier with the knife that I usually wore on my back; The one that I had taken from the merchant I killed in Suwlahtk. He also took the Steelheart Company sword, tunic, and crossbow leaving me standing in the store wearing only two metal plates on my chest and carrying my spear in my left hand. The plates drew some attention from both him and the guard in the sore, but neither asked me anything about them.

“Very much so,” the owner replied with a smile. “This half-sword belonged to nobility back in its homeland and was sold when they fell into a poor financial state. How did you come across this again?” That makes it valuable? I thought quizzically, I suppose that might make it rare, but aside from the odd shape it's just a knife.

“Does it matter?” I asked back. The guard frowned, and the owner's smile dipped.

“I suppose what I mean to ask is, do you have the right to sell this legally?” the owner asked in a more frank tone.

“I don't know the law here,” I replied. “Can you explain the property rights of this country to me? I can give you an answer then.” The owner's eyes widened, and I once again realized I had said something unusual.

“To put it shortly, you cannot sell the possessions of others,” the owner explained. “However if a person is dead and has not legally given over ownership of an item to another, the ownership of that item is generally considered to have been wiped clean in the absence of any records of bequeathal. The only exception to this case is in the case of death by another's hand. If the killer is not deemed to have committed murder, which is to say if the killing is legal, common law dictates that the immediate bodily possessions of the dead belong to the killer, while other possessions which were not on their person at the time of death are transferred to the family.”

“I see,” I replied, “what about cases of scavenged items?” I thought back to the looks and reactions I had gotten when telling people where I had found my gear. The owner frowned and pursed his lips.

“While not illegal, scavenging for purposes other than the return of the dead's possessions to their living relatives is seen as immoral in this region,” the owner said. I could tell from his tone that he personally found the idea distasteful, but was being diplomatic since he thought I was foreign.

“That knife was scavenged,” I lied, “I found it on the corpse of a man wearing expensive flowing robes, beside a series of wagons that had been burned. Incidentally, it was found near the location of the person who originally owned the Steelheart Company equipment.” The owner took a deep breath and licked his lips, while the guard stared daggers at me.

“I admire your honesty,” the owner said genuinely, “not many men would admit such a thing after being told what you were told. I understand that you most likely did not know that you were offending their spirits when you took from them, and I hope that they do not become angry with you.” While I certainly didn't share the owner's convictions about his odd religion, I could tell that the statement was meant to placate both myself and the guard.

“I will leave the equipment to you, and I will keep your customs in mind in the future,” I said, lying about the second half of my sentence. The owner smiled again, his muscles pushing up his cheeks ever so slightly.

“So what kind of equipment would you like?” the owner asked, clapping his hands together. “You said you wanted a sword? I do hope you plan to remove those metal plates from your chest before I fetch that tunic for you as well.” I looked down and sighed, touching the now very dented and worn metal.

“Could I get some armor?” I asked. “I want something light, but with good protection of the heart.” The owner gestured for me to follow, and lead me over to the opposite end of the store. Near the armor that I had examined when I first entered was another chest piece that I hadn't examined because I thought it was some kind of clothing. Upon closer inspection, I could tell that it was actually hardened and layered leather armor with sleeves.

“This is a piece which was made by a local artisan as an experiment,” the owner explained. “Initially he was attempting to create a piece of clothing which could also protect the wearer, but as you can see it became too bulky.” The owner rapped the front of the armor with his knuckles. “Still, it is tough enough to stop glancing slashes from a knife or sword, and between the two pieces of leather is a steel disc oriented around the chest.” The owner pulled the armor off of its t-shaped mount and flexed it, which clearly showed the rigidity around the solar plexus area.

“And the back?” I asked.

“No protection besides the leather,” the owner answered. “Do you expect to be stabbed in the back sir?” I suppose my spine would protect me from that direction, I thought, I could probably modify it myself if I got my hands on some metal.

“No,” I replied, “it sounds acceptable to me.”

“Try it on,” insisted the owner. After removing my two plates and setting down my spear, I took the armor from him and slipped into it like a shirt, snapping the arm seams accidentally as I flexed. “Ah, that's unfortunate,” the owner mumbled, “I suppose it's my fault.” Other than the tight arms the armor felt quite good. I moved my arms around to feel the range of motion and bent my torso in multiple directions. The most limited range of motion is bending forward, and I still have about seventy percent in that direction, I thought.

“Seems good to me,” I stated.

“Really?” the owner asked with a bit of surprise. “What about the arms?”

“I can just remove the sleeves,” I replied, “I don't really need them anyway.”

“Well, in that case, let's include that armor as part of the deal,” the owner said. “Now if I recall correctly you did say you wanted a sword?”

“Yes,” I nodded, chastising myself again after the action. My eyes suddenly caught onto something nearby on a shelf and I walked toward it. The item was a spear of some kind, but the spearhead was a long leaf shape and the shaft of the spear was made of metal with a locking hinge in the middle. I picked the item up, examining it curiously. This could improve my mobility greatly, I thought, running and rolling with a full-length spear on my back is difficult.

“Ah, that...” the owner chimed through gritted teeth. “Another experiment though this time by a different individual. As you can see it is a znawlmowl-style spear with a folding shaft. Unfortunately, such a thing weakens the shaft at no real benefit besides portability, so nobody has bought it.” I unfolded the shaft, latching the hinge into the straight position with the attached mechanism. The spear looked to be around two meters long including the blade, which was one-tenth the length of the weapon and ten centimeters wide at the widest point. I flexed the shaft experimentally, feeling it strain under my strength up to a point, then stop.

“You said it won't sell,” I said, “can I take it?”

“Ah, well-” the merchant began.

“You can have that spear over there if I do,” I added, pointing to the other spear I left on the ground. The merchant's attitude went from apologetic to surprised. The shaft wiggles a bit, I thought as I moved the folding spear's shaft around, but it's not loose, it’s made that way to avoid stressing the metal. The extended blade and the width of it would make it much better for inflicting killing wounds when hunting. The merchant had walked over to my old spear and picked it up as I examined the folding spontoon-like spear. I guess znawlmowl must mean spontoon then, I thought, though it lacks the extra prongs so it's almost glaive-like except for being double-sided.

“This is a simple weapon, but quite well made,” the merchant said. “Where did you get this?”

“Suwlahtk,” I replied. The merchant turned and looked at me with a strange smile.

“Ah, I thought it looked familiar,” he said, “I would be willing to take this for some credit against the price of that spontoon.” Good, I thought, now I just need a sword. I folded the spontoon up and held it in one hand, then looked around the store again. This is a very disorganized store, I thought as I walked through the aisles, how does anyone find anything in here? I glanced over at the guard, who was still watching me, and then a weapon to the left of their position caught my eye. I walked over and, much to the guard's dismay, reached out to grab it so I could examine it.

“Don't touch that,” the guard said to me in a feminine-sounding voice. She pointed above the wall mount to a sign that I couldn't read.

“It's alright Aaljhpaoey,” the owner called out as he walked over. “It's not like that particular piece is of any use anyway.” The guard released my hand and I picked up the sword. It was a simple weapon, a single piece of metal with a slight curve to it making a fat blade that was mounted to a ribbed metal handle with a flat circular hand guard and a curving pommel that pointed forward. At the base, the blade was seven centimeters wide, and it reduced in width to an average of five along the length before the back curved inwards sharply in a crescent shape to create a stabbing point. Some kind of cutlass, I thought. I had seen such weapons before but never actually used one.

“Why is it so heavy?” I asked. I didn't mind, but the weapon felt around four kilograms in weight, owing to the thickness of the blade and the size of the pommel. The blunted back edge of the blade was easily two and a half centimeters thick, and the pommel's mass jutted out several centimeters forward. While heavy, it was well within the range of what I considered to be controllable and the balance was quite good with the center of gravity being two-thirds of the way down the blade, or roughly in the center of the weapon's total length.

“It is a showpiece,” the owner explained, “it is not a weapon made for combat, but a tool made for displaying feats of strength like cutting many ropes at once or splitting beast skulls in a single swing.”

“If it's not a weapon, why is it here?” I asked. The merchant smiled awkwardly.

“I... acquired this piece during a bulk sale of old goods,” he explained. “Obviously I can't sell it, but I keep it around in the back of the store because... well...” The merchant looked away, trailing off his speech into inaudible mumbles.

“He likes to swing it around and hit stuff with it, and uses it to test shields and armor,” the guard chimed in. The merchant winced ever so slightly, and the left side of the guard’s mouth twitched upward.

“Can I have it?” I asked.

“Why would you want it?” the owner asked. I stepped back and experimentally swung the sword a couple of times, trying to mirror some baton fighting moves I knew. I need to hold the blade out more, I thought. Contrary to what I thought, the weight wasn't a non-issue. Instead, I found it to be a positive, allowing me to sense where the weapon was more easily and control it better. Within a dozen or so swings I had gotten the hang of controlling it and could reliably and smoothly follow up my strikes.

“Oh my,” the owner remarked.

“Flaunting sehpztaazmoydh,” the guard muttered. There's that word again, I thought, I suppose asking about why they think I'm using magic would be suspicious.

“I like it,” I said, stopping my display and returning to a normal stance, “it's much better than the longsword I gave you, in my opinion. The weight isn't a problem for me, in fact I believe it is beneficial.” The owner just stared for a moment, as though he had something he wanted to ask but wasn't sure if he should.

“If that's what you want,” he finally chirped. “Allow me to fetch the sheaths and straps for those weapons, and then we'll discuss payment. I'll also include a sharpening kit.” He dashed up the stairs past me, and once again I locked eyes with the guard. She frowned at me, looked at the sword, then crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall behind her, finally content to look at something else.