Filipe whistled sharply and well over a dozen men and women of all ages burst into the Guildhall. The youngest of the men, and one woman, were dirty with coal dust—but their eyes gleamed with mercantile fervor. Attendants, recognizable by their calm and collected demeanor, brought out comfortable armchairs and a low table and started setting out tea for four. The elder of the Merchant's Guild stepped out from the center desk, raising a portion to create an exit, and bid them to join him in a corner of the main hall.

Though the hall was busy, it still wasn't open to the public. The doors remained shut, but the sudden windfall of materials and oddities had roused the guild members like shaking a beehive.

They all sat, the Aspirant Knight and the Smith next to the Merchant, with the Steward sitting across to take notes.

"We'll wait a moment for the appraisal and evaluation to conclude, and then we'll go over the results together. Some things the Merchant's Guild will buy today at a fair price, others will be put up for sale by consignment at Guild affiliated stores where they will sell the fastest, again, at a fair price. Exceptionally rare and valuable items will be put up for auction with the standard fees—I'm talking about the dragon materials and elemental jewels," the Merchant explained on seeing the Smith's confusion. "Keep in mind that our goal is to liquidate these goods as quickly as possible at a fair price; not to get the best price. Are there any objections?" He looked back and forth between the Knight and the Smith, and both shook their heads.

"Good. Now, while we wait, let us enjoy this tea. It's quite wonderful; our explorers recently brought back new varieties, and our contracted Farmers have managed to cultivate them here in Iberteria…"

The man blathered on, talking so much while James sipped his tea that he was surprised the man found any time to actually drink it, though drink it he had, and it was only ten minutes of talking later that James realized this was actually a sales pitch.

Eventually the discussion of tea died down, and the wily Merchant turned to the naive Smith directly. "So, those were your personal items in the Bag of Holding, eh?"

James looked to his Lord, who gave him a slight nod.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh no no, none of that now my boy, please, call me Filipe. And may I call you James?"

"Uh, I mean, yes, Filipe."

"Thank you, James. It does this old man's heart good to be on friendly terms with the youth. By the way… those were quite some creations in the Bag," his eyes flashed, "did you make them?"

James answered easily and casually. "I'm a Smith; I forged almost everything that was taken out today."

"Almost everything?" the Merchant pounced.

"Not the amulets," James replied coolly. "Those I found in treasure chests, same as I found that silver."

"Yes, of course. I see." The Merchant rubbed his chin and gazed at James a moment. "The forging was quite bad, however. You'll understand if that lowers the fair price for those items, yes?"

The Merchant knew what he was doing. A blow to the Smith's pride, to rile him up, loosen his lips, and make the next tactic even more effective.

The Knight and the Steward merely watched; ready to step in if necessary, but trusting in James to handle this on his own. Or, rather, trusting in his [Stubbornness].

No one could say that the Legendary Smith was lacking in Willpower.

"Indeed, you're right," James admitted handily. "I was untrained when I forged those pieces, and I'm still training now. I suspect that much of what I forged has more value as raw materials rather than finished pieces, and they'll be scrapped."

The Merchant was undeterred. "Of course, how humble. Understandable, though, given that you were trapped in a Dungeon. Or, at least, that's the story, eh?"

"Aye, that's the truth of it," James insisted lightly.

"And if you were the Smith who forged those pieces, then who enchanted them? The techniques used are unusual, though used to great effect."

James looked away. "I don't want to talk about that."

The Merchant, wily fox that he was, scented blood.

"And why not, I wonder? Oh, don't think that I'm prying, it's just an old man's curiosity," he said, prying blatantly.

"It's not something I want to talk about," James repeated. He busied himself with his tea, and the Merchant leaned forward.

"Yes, understandable. Being trapped in a Dungeon, dreadful stuff. I'm sure there were many hardships. And, of course, you were the only survivor to escape… No?"

"I was the only one trapped in the Dungeon," James said, hesitantly, not understanding what the Merchant was getting at.

"Right…" the Merchant poured himself another cup of tea and took a sip. "Though of course there's nobody to contradict your story now, is there?"

James, now fully confused, turned back to the Merchant. "What do you mean?"

"Well, far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, but I have to wonder who enchanted that armor and those hammers. It's a shame they didn't make it out of the Dungeon alive… They might have become a decent Enchanter someday, if they had."

James stared blankly at the Merchant, who merely took another sip of tea and remained silent.

And they remained silent.

The Merchant put down his tea.

He knew that most people could not bear silence in a conversation. They speak, to fill the emptiness, and reveal more than they intended.

And yet as the moments turned to minutes, the Smith continued to stare at the Merchant, silent.

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Junior members of the Guild hovered in the background, ready to present the results of their appraisals, feeling nervous.

The Steward and the Knight, on the other hand, waved over attendants to refresh the tea and snacks, perfectly at ease in the midst of the battle of wills.

In the end, it was the Merchant who yielded.

"I see," he said, leaning back. "But, before we move on, may I at least ask why?"

An open-ended parting shot. Why won't you talk? Why your Enchanter friend didn't make it? Why? Why? Why? The question that people decide to answer on their own, even if it is with a lie, is often quite informative.

But the Merchant was thwarted.

"As I said, I don't want to talk about it."

Unfortunately for the Merchant, the Smith had been tested in fire. Tortured by slavers, pushed to the brink of death over and over in the Dungeon, and then interrogated at swordpoint in a trial almost immediately after being rescued. It would take more than force or petty tricks to loosen his lips. He was the master of his own mind.

The Merchant tried one last time to gain even a scrap more information about this blonde young man; this Smith who had once borne the Bag of Holding and had brought tens of thousands of dollars of goods to their Guildhall.

"You have quite the stubborn retainer," he jabbed at the Knight.

Suero finished sipping his tea, his fourth cup since they sat down, and set it down on the saucer utterly silently. "Indeed," was his only reply, though there was a slight hint of a smile on his lips.

With that, the Merchant backed down.

Temporarily.

He could always dig for more indirectly. The Merchant's Guild was a clearinghouse of information, after all. And it wasn't as though the Knight before him couldn't be influenced, tangled up in webs of debts and favors owed as he was.

And why did the Merchant back down then?

Because the Aspirant Knight, the Steward, and the Smith came prepared with a fully clear schedule for the day. They had all the time in the world for the day's business.

The elder of the Merchant's Guild, however, his time was quite valuable. Time spent staring at a young blonde Smith was time not spent making money. Though he had cleared his schedule as well, time won back by speedily finishing the business before him was quite precious.

It was a matter of who could afford to waste the most time, and who had what the other wanted more.

Though the Merchant was wily, the Aspirant Knight matched him in cunning. In this instance, he had even won the encounter. For now the Knight knew that he had something the Merchant wanted, even if he had no intention of giving up information about how the goods came to be enchanted.

All of this was quite over the Smith's head, who was only thinking of keeping his oath to his parents.

And what was on the Steward's mind?

His journal only recorded a note that, to his surprise, it appeared the Smith was indeed a Dragonslayer, and a warning to himself to be careful should the Smith ever enchant a weapon for him, likely referring to the Ice Hammer of Self-Destruction, which came to be known as a minor artifact for a short time until it was destroyed.

The Merchant clapped his hands, and his junior Guild members let out a sigh as the tension faded and they were permitted to approach with the results of their appraisals.

James had little to say about how the goods were to be sold; he had come to terms with losing them weeks ago. It was the Knight who had the final say on things, and his priority was liquidating the items quickly.

The raw materials were almost universally purchased directly by the Guild at fair price, as they would be by anyone else bringing them in. This 'fair price' was slightly lower than what one could get by selling them directly to specialty shops, traders, and workshops, but only the Guild would buy such a large volume anyway.

It was the enchanted items that were most contentious.

"We intend to showcase the enchanted items to retailers for sale by consignment, or to collectors."

The Knight frowned. "Showcase?"

The Merchant nodded.

"Even with such low quality?"

"Though the forging is of low quality, the enchantments are something of a curiosity." He waved forward one of the junior Guild members, one with perfectly styled black hair and glasses that James realized were themselves enchanted.

"Yes, though the enchantments are almost universally basic level, they are also all quite a bit stronger than one would expect. Several unusual techniques were used to strengthen the enchantments beyond what is considered practically possible given the enchantment design and the item itself. In particular, more than half the items are fully saturated with essence." The man paused dramatically, and the Knight flatly said, "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, you see, when enchanting, the presence of essence—"

"No, I'm sorry, I misspoke. I meant, what does them being a curiosity mean for how quickly the items can be sold?" The Knight turned back to Merchant Filipe. "I can't imagine that items of such low quality can be sold for much more than their scrap value. I would prefer that the items be scrapped and the materials sold quickly."

The Merchant spread his hands apologetically. "I'm afraid that in this instance, the Guild will have to assert its privilege. It is less a matter of the monetary value and practical utility of the items themselves, and more a matter of relationships with our clientele. Our patrons who would be interested in such items would be most upset if the opportunity to purchase these samples were denied them."

The Knight relented. "I see."

"You will, of course, receive a full accounting of the final sale price of each item."

"Of course," he said, magnanimously.

And so it was that the Smith's works were unleashed on the world.

"In the meantime, we can give an estimate of the total value of the goods brought in today, though the final total may vary considerably depending on the auction for the jewels and dragon materials."

"If you would," the Knight said, and the Merchant handed him a piece of paper with the estimate written on it.

Forty-five thousand gold dollars.

The majority of which would be paid out immediately, with the rest depending on the auction and the final sale price of the enchanted items.

Nearly enough to fully cover the cost of the Elixir that had saved James' life.

Suero held back a sigh of relief. It was nearly perfect. Enough to cover the Elixir he had used, which had been about to expire anyway; not enough to free his personal Smith and Enchanter from indenture any time soon; and more than enough to free him from his financial woes.

He was already thinking of how the money could be put to use solidifying his position within the Knight's Order as he handed the paper to the Steward to look over. The Steward took it in at a glance, found no errors, and then showed it to the Smith, briefly.

James felt ambivalent.

It didn't feel real to him. It was a lot of money, but not even half his debt. Fifty-five thousand dollars felt just as insurmountable as one hundred thousand dollars; even though he recognized that objectively it was a tremendous step forward.

In the end, he shrugged and put it out of his mind.

The Merchant found himself even more intrigued.

What kind of young man would have so muted a reaction to such an incredible sum of wealth?

Merchant Filipe, that evening, wrote in his diary that a dossier had been started on Smith James, retainer of Knight Cortez, but no copies of that dossier survive to the present day.

Editor's note: It is assumed that all records relating to the Legendary Smith were destroyed during the initial purge after he saved the Kingdom; however, it is possible that secret copies of this dossier and other documents were destroyed at a later date as the oral tradition about the Legendary Smith is unusually vast.

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