bitter water // dreamnotfound

nine

once george had finally made it to work, the day seemed to slow down dramatically.

He didn’t have much to do, there weren’t any backed up orders. He was completely caught up on all of the metalwork, the shop was completely clean after hours of tedious sweeping, and the stations had been checked over countless times. He worked slowly with the things that needed to be done, he would rather have anything at all to do instead of nothing, perching near the door, observing people pass by with much disinterest towards his workshop.

He ached for the same productivity as the preceding days; a widely distinguished swordsman from a nearby nation had come to him for new estocs. George anticipated new customers and more recognition, but it was yet to come. The sword wielder’s title was only known as Technoblade. He dressed in peculiar apparel. Cloaks that resembled authority, yet he was not royalty, elegant frilled blouses, bandages around his forearms, stocky boots, and most outlandish of all, a swine mask. It blanketed the area of the face above his mouth and the tusks of the hog twisted upwards. He was greatly intimidating. It was no wonder he was renowned, George could ensure that the majority of his opponents would drop at one glance.

He didn’t converse much. When he did, his voice was monotone and filled to the brim with gaucherie. George wasn’t sure if he was making him uncomfortable, or if he was just always like that. George highly doubted he was the reason for his awkwardness, he was a 5’9” twig. Technoblade was a 6’3” beast who could slice anybody to shreds with any bladed weapon.

Their interaction quite quickly came to a halt when “The Blade” paid his fees and left to saunter the kingdom while George worked on his request.

---

George was snapped out of his empty gaze when the door whirled open in the front. Whoever was at fault seemed to be very hurried and put extra caution into concealing his appearance. He wore a dark, pine green cloak with a hood so thick that its shadow cast a dark glaze over his face. He adorned black fingerless gloves and buckled boots; ones that were only worn by the prosperous. The mysterious man stepped right past George, directly towards the counter. George remained in a confused daze for a few seconds before shooting up in response to the man turning towards him in anticipation.

“I need a dagger.”

His voice sounded so… familiar. George couldn’t place his finger on it and it was going to drive him insane.

“Oh, alright… Any specific type you have in mind? I’m licensed to work with an-”

“I just need a dagger.”

George could immediately tell what kind of customer he was.

“Well, okay. That’s very vague. There’s trench knives, bagh nakhs, bol-”

“I just need something that’ll puncture easily.”

He wouldn’t stop cutting George off.

“Alright, it doesn’t seem you have any knowledge in weaponry, how about a-”

“Just give me a bollock knife. They’re piercing and good in size.”

George was going to lose it. “First, please stop cutting me off. Second, you’re confusing me. Are you educated on weaponry or not?”

The cloaked figure just stared at him blankly, which was unsettling seeing as George wouldn’t actually be able to see his features unless his hood was removed.

George took that as an answer in itself and proceeded to mark up the customization prices. “Any specifications? You can pay now and pick up the dagger tonight or pay when you pick up. Handle customizations are-”

“I’ll pay now.”

“DEAR LORD. Please stop interrupting me, you’re insufferable.”

The hooded man leaned closer and rested his arms on the countertop. In a softer, yet threatening tone, he spoke, “I’m about to pay for your entire week of dinner, if you don’t shut your trap I’m going to beat you to a fucking pulp and have your pathetic little shop burned to the ground. The only reason I came to your workshop was that I’m not currently permitted to leave the grounds. If I was, you can bet everything I would be avoiding this shit show.”

George froze in his tracks, staring to his feet and turning away. He was totally and thoroughly speechless.

“I’ll get to work on your dagger, sir. You can leave the coins on the counter. Return at seven.”

authors note// haha there's a silly reason I chose the bollock knife