Silver Bullet, Seraph’s Sword

“They Call Me Arien”

Just as the sun began to peak over the small mountains, Lancaster neared a very tall city wall of dark gray stone. He'd just have to appear as a traveler looking for the marketplace in order to be let in through the gates. A soft pinky-orange color floated over the gates. Hiding off to the side, behind a tree, so as not to be spotted, he relaxed his heartbeat. He felt himself shrink and his muscles weaken slightly.

Wearing a faded greenish-colored shirt with a short collar and a light brown leather cross satchel, he slid amongst the travelers and traders of various species as they flowed through the space where the heavy bronze gate normally sat. His tail swished softly behind him as he smelled all kinds of cinnamon sweets and delicious treats. He did have a bounty to collect, but a quick snack couldn't hurt.

His work boots left shapes in the sand, but any significant trace that may have been left was almost immediately kicked over by a merchant or trader passing by. The rough canvas of his pants was slowly starting to chafe from the grains slipping between the thick threads, but it kept his skin cool and protected from scratches. Following a short, older woman, and becoming a little impatient with her lack of haste, he nearly threw her to the side as he chased the trail of cinnamon. The elderly halfling turned around with a growl, not very appreciative of his disrespect. He kind of chuckled, imagining her trying to take him on. Still, he did his best to apologize.

After trying nearly forty different booths and stands, and only finding pots, pans, trinkets, silverware, crystals, idols, and various useless knick knacks, he arrived at a small table.

"Finally," he breathed, closing his eyes and soaking in the scent of the food district. "I'll take four kabobs," he called out to the vendor with the best looking pastries.

The gruff-looking man's appearance softened as he gave Lancaster a big smile. "You're a long way from home, wolfy. What brings you to Diamalaya?" He flicked his fluffy dark brown fox ears in amusement as he turned to his small wood burning stove. Picking up small, gooey squares of white dough, he covered them in cinnamon and powdered sugar. He went about his cooking business as though he hadn't asked a question.

"I'm on a trade route through all the biggest cities in the world, bringing my smithing to any and all species and curses who may be in need of my skills," he rehearsed, puffing out his chest with pride.

"That's lofty," the baker commented, skewering the dough squares and moving them to the oven. He dusted the excess flour off his hands against his apron and placed his hands on his hips. "Can you cast custom tools?"

"Well, absolutely," Lancaster remarked. "Did you have something in mind?" With a nod, the baker turned to check on the kabobs. After verifying they had a few more minutes, he reached behind the terracotta stove and pulled out a large item rolled in cloth and placed it on the table between them. He carefully unfolded it, revealing a long fairly thin rod of gold. It had intricate carvings all over it and an interesting pattern of notches on the bottom. There were grapevines, apricots, peaches, and strawberries engraved along it with a thin layer of a watercolor-like substance giving each a faint hue. The end of the rod formed into a spade shape. "It's pretty cool. What is it?" Lancaster tilted his head curiously.

"It's a really old butter churner. I was wondering if you could make a bronze replica." He picked it up to show all sides of it. He grabbed the rounded top and it opened to the side on a small hinge. "This is for adding spices and seasonings or even fillings that you might want to use to enhance the butter. Almond butter, cookie butter, garlic butter, apple butter..," he trailed off.

"What about the notches and the spade shape?"

"The notches help disperse the spices. There's just enough that it helps the butter reach the right consistency. The spade does that as well. The sharp tip keeps ingredients from collecting on the bottom, and the sides are just smooth enough to make sure the butter doesn't get clumpy in caught on the rod. It's been in my family for many generations, but I haven't used it in years; they were never able to get a patent on it, and I want to make sure my family gets the credit they deserve. Too many people would try to steal it. My clan was famous for our butters once."

Lancaster snickered as the baker turned around to pull his cinnamon sticks out from the oven. They were a perfect golden brown. "Why would you give your secret away to a stranger who just walked up to your table?" He flicked some gold coins on the table. "Is that enough?"

"For some reason, I don't expect you to take my family's idea and run. I just need a newer copy of the churner so the patent can be for this year." He wrapped the rod back up in the fabric and handed it over to Lancaster with the kabobs set on top. Just as the wolf took it, the baker turned and dumped more cinnamon and powdered sugar all over them. "And that's more than enough gold. They're only a bronze coin a piece."

"Keep the extra," he chuckled again. "You're really running a risk just handing this over like that. I'll have it to you in about a week, bronze-casted."

"How much will I owe you?"

"Ten gold pieces should cut it. Should I apply the paint and sealant as well?"

"I think I can do that part. Are you sure you only want ten?"

"Yeah, I care more about getting my name known than getting paid right now." He turned to leave with his treats and new project, the sun displaying a yellow-orange show over the crowded marketplace.

"What is your name, son?"

"They call me Arien," he stated simply, disappearing back into the crowd. Before the baker could ask any more questions, Lancaster was gone. He had a mission to accomplish, and a very kind but potentially nosy man was not going to get in his way.