In the middle of the afternoon, this street of shops in the Scholars' Quarters is about as busy as it ever gets … which isn't really all that much. More eccentric tastes are catered to in these parts, for those who have the time and leisure.

On a street corner, next to a coffee house, stands a curio and antique shop, and past the cross-bullions of the windows, one can see shelves stacked high with various fragile and pricey items and artifacts.

Lovelace strolls down the lane, a package-laden servant trotting harredly in his wake. He pauses at the curio shop and peers at the items in the window. One catches his eye; a pen that lies beside a book. The book catches his eye. He pauses, then steps inside. The manservant follows, puffing a bit as he catches the door.

Jarik rubs his chin and examines the shop. He thinks . o O { Well fox, you're only a few feet away from it now, aren't you? That is, if Tirro told me the truth. I can't let the owner know its true value… that's plain stupid… it's time to be a little more… inventive… }

Jarik takes a breath, and enters the shop.

The shop inside is dimly lit and every available space is crammed from floor to ceiling with knick-knacks, ranging from trash to treasure. A precariously-stacked stand of clay pots is just inside the door. At a wooden counter, a rat sits on a stool, furtively glancing this way at that, not daring to let his eyes off any of the customers for more than a few seconds.

Lovelace calls, "Hallooo?" He looks vaguely around the shop, flicking an imaginary mote of dust off his sleeve.

Jarik waves to the rat, "Good day sir!" He smiles to the other customer, "Good day to you too, sir."

The rat twitches his nose, one eye peeking out from the oversized cap perched between his ears. "Hallo to you, too," he rachets. "What kin I do fer ya?"

Jarik waves a paw around, "I noticed this shop… You have quite a variety of interesting things here… You might be able to help me in locating a special item… "

Lovelace does a good job of looking a bit appalled at the shopkeeper's initial appearance. He bows to Jarik, giving him an apprasing look. "Good day," he says vaguely with a vapid smile.

Jarik hmms, "But… I'll look for a bit… please, help this gentleman first. " He smiles.

The smallish rat twitches his nose and whiskers. "Sure! I kin find all sortsa things. S'long as the price is right… " He pauses, looking up, as if remembering something. "Yeah, but the customer is always … er … uhm … whazzat? Oh yeah. We always hope to make the price rights for yas." He nods his head emphatically.

Jarik nods and browses through the nicknacks, looking for a certain sword.

Jarik smiles to himself, "I'm looking for a… I feel sorta silly. A metal sword… you see, I've wanted to be able to tell my children some day, when I have them that is… that I was a knight… call it a silly dream."

The shelves, unfortunately, don't have any magical swords of great legendary power sitting conveniently upon them. The items to be found in this shop are certainly not of a military bent.

Jarik says, "And well… your shop looked like it might have such a thing… "

Lovelace smiles vaguely at Jarik. "A sword? How lovely. But what a shame that a knight like yourself has fallen on such hard times and sold his sword."

The rat squints at Jarik, then lifts his cap, scratching it on top. "You wants … a METAL sword? In't a chitin sword gudanuf?"

The rat looks Jarik up and down. He wrinkles his nose, presuming that this fox doesn't look NEARLY wealthy enough to even dream of owning such a thing.

Lovelace flaps a hand at the rat. "Good shopkeeper, females prefer the heroic, as you know. And there is nothign so marvelous or heroic as a good sword."

Lovelace says, "Why, it positively REEKS of heroic actions and brave charges and battles and magic!!"

Jarik says, "Call it a dream… I have some money and items I can trade… I'll work to pay you even if need be?"

Jarik says, "I've dreamt of of being able to hold such a weapon for a long time… "

The storekeeper rat looks to Jarik. "Well, if'n yer wantin' somethin' like that, ya might want to check back later when Achimed gets back from his trip. He's off on a business trip, ya see, and he's the one who'd know about that sort of stuff."

Jarik nods and sighs, "Do you know when he'll be back… ?

The smallish rat scritches his hairy chin. "Er, I suppose mebbe a few weeks? It was a right 'portant trip."

Jarik leans on the counter and chats at the rat, "I've read these incredible stories about adventuring knights… Saving kingdoms, rescuing damsels… all that… I know it's silly, but I reallly want to have part of that dream… "

The rat's eyes light up. "Aha! I knows what ya wants!"

There was no one to notice the gleam of understanding in the poodle's warm brown eyes at Jarik's expressed longing for a sword. Lovelace lowers his glance and browses among the books, affecting his 'silly idle nobleman' guise again. He pretends no interest in the book, either, though its subject – a treatise on herbs and poisons – catches his attention.

At once, the rat hops off his stool, disappearing behind the counter. He must stand about to Jarik's waist. Soon, the scraggly creature is skittering across the floor, looking as if he might drop to all fours at any moment.

The rat scampers back to the counter, carrying a long cloth-wrapped bundle. He grunts and strains to heave it up to the wooden surface, and then clambers up onto the stool.

Jarik smiles at the poodle, "I know I must sound really… odd. It's just… a dream that has chased me a long time… "

"Whew!" the rat wipes his brow. "Justa moment. Gotsa catch my breath."

Jarik turns back to the rat.

Lovelace smiles at Jarik as he stacks some books together. He holds up two. "Do the colors of these two books match? I want to do my library in brown, and I want a set of nice red books. Only I can't tell if these are the same color or not. Deucedly irritating." He smiles vaguely at them both.

The rodent flicks his whiskers, then says, "Anyways, if'n you wants a knightly sword, I figgur this otter do the trick!"

Jarik looks at the books, trying to be helpful…

The rat looks up. "They match right nicely. That's why they're next to each other. I sorts 'em by color. Quickest that way."

Jarik turns back and smiles at the rat.

Jarik looks down at the counter.

Lovelace ahs and then aha!s and picks up a set of ten books. His manservant, a small ferret, rolls his eyes, but Lovelace appears to not notice. Somehow the book on poisons and herbs has made its way into the stack… along with a book on acting and stage makeup – fine red covers, all.

"Anyways," the rat says, "here ya gots da sword. A beauty. No scabbard, though."

Jarik pats the scabbard on his side, "No problem there… Let'ssee this thing." He smiles,

The rat grins right back, and then unwraps the cloth.

Before Jarik is the gaudiest, most unseemly sword he has ever laid eyes on.

At first glance, it looks like metal, but it's apparently just a very silvery sort of chitin – or maybe something else. The "gems" are rather large … and quite likely colored glass or crystal.

Jarik rubs his chin, "Nice… but… I'm looking for something old and battered… something that maybe was carried by a knight long ago."

"In't it booteeful?" the rat smiles. "If'n you wants it old and battered, jest whack it around a few times! Not too hard, though."

"AFTER you buy it, though. You bust it, you buys it," the rat inserts quickly.

Lovelace eyes the sword. "May I?" he murmurs, reaching for the blade. It looks cheap, but he is curious and there is something about the lure of a blade to a swordsman. Ugly or ill-crafted, all blades call out to his blood to be tested; toyed with.

The rat lets go, smiling. "Sures! Takes a look all you please."

Jarik chuckles, "It is quite nice, sir. But, my children would never believe that to be the weapon of a knight… I really need something authenic." He smiles.

The rat frowns. "Hey, it don't get any more 'thentic than /that/."

Jarik says, "I'd like something… battered, shipped, tarnished and worn out. You know, even slightly bent… Metal… I've got some money on me… plus this good chitin sword I can trade… "

The rat frowns. "Hey, you tryin' to be a wise guy? Ain't no such thing as a banged-up beaten-up bent sword. Chitin BREAKS – everybody knows dat."

Jarik nods, "I know… thats why I want a metal sword… "

Lovelace pauses in his perusal of the books in the shop. "Of course he does, my good shopkeeper! Why, children won't believe in heroic tales unless they've got something solid… Metal!"

The rat grumbles. "A metal banged up sword? Yah, sure. Likes someone's going to just throw a metal sword inna junk pile. Yah. Right next to that crown of pure gold I foun' inna trash. Yup yup."

Lovelace waves an imaginary sword. "Nothing like the feel of real metal!" he exclaims and makes an awkward lunge. The movement is slow and, to an experienced eye, it would be a bit too deliberate. It's hard for a good swordsman to fake inexpertise.

Jarik's ear twitches, he recognises skill in the poodle…

Lovelace takes a few more swats at the invisible foe, and then goes back to browsing the books. He holds up two volumes, eyeing the covers critically. "But do the reds match… really match?" he frowns.

The rat pfffts. "Yah, yah. Well, tell ya what. Iff'n I find that metal sword, I'll let you know. That is, if'n I don't sell it first and buy me that castle I've been wantin'… " He rolls his eyes.

Jarik says, "Surely someone may have pawned one once here? There have to be some around… surely sir… could you look?"

The rat makes a sweeping gesture toward the shelves of knick-knacks and curios and antiques. "Here's what we gots. You kin look around all you like, but I tell ya, there ain't a sword in this store 'cept the one that the gentlepoodle is lookin' at."

Jarik's ears droop, "Do you know any place that might carry one then? Please, dear sir…

Jarik says, "I get shipped off soon… I've been assigned to an airship… I was hoping I could find one before I left."

Lovelace says, "An airship, is it?? Oh, I say, what an adventure! Which one will you be aboard?"

Jarik says, "I don't know yet… I'm waiting to hear. I'm a simple healer… not that grand of an adventure I'm afraid… "

Lovelace quirks an eyebrow. "Physician? And yet you want an old war souvenier? I say, that's a curiously odd way of curing the patients, eh? Don't get well, you just lop off their heads!" He makes another clumsy sweeping motion with his arm, his book nearly whapping his manservant on his nose. The ferret ducks the poodle's swing with the ease of long practice.

Jarik chuckles, "No… I've always dreamed of being a knight… This would get me close to it in a way…

Jarik makes a few elegant sweeps of his arm. The motion indicates he's obviously good with a sword. "I've practiced alot… I know… I look silly but… it's just one of those odd obsessions that is always with you."

There is a brief gleam in the poodle's eye before Lovelace resumes his role of 'fop'. "Physician, were I you, I would not heal myself with that," he comments, and then begins to laugh at his own attempted joke. The ferret manservant shifts his bundles with a sigh and rolls his eyes, making a sympathetic face at the rat and at Jarik.

Jarik's ears droop, "Perhaps it'll just remain a dream." He then looks directly at the poodle and mouths: I know you're better than YOU let on, sir. I saw the skill you were hiding in your moves…

Lovelace's eyes flash for just a second and then he puts on his most convincingly bewildered air. He rubs one silver-white ear. "Beg pardon?" he says.

Jarik smiles slightly, "Oh, nothing, sir. We all have our little secrets, no?"

Lovelace goes back to his book-selecting. The ferret sets the packages down with a weary sigh and then sits on them. Lovelace, apparently oblivious to that, peers at another stack of books and spots an old map book in the pile. He collects three books from that stack, shuffles them around, and peers at them. After sorting through yet another pile of old books, the treasured map book is in his hands. A quick glance at the flyleaf confirms that it's over a century old and does contain some of the references to the old temples he was looking for. He smiles vaguely at Jarik and moves toward a case of pens.

Jarik looks around the shop again. Eyeing various things, some old books, lanterns… antique items that aren't identifiable. Hoping to find something that he would like.

Jarik smiles, "Ever hear of the legend of Crydon, sir?"

Lovelace says, "Legend of… Crydon? No. What is it?"

Jarik smiles, "Oh, it's a story that I've known since I was a kit. I think it arrived with an exile here. Anyway… it's just a group of stories about a order of knights… paladins… that lived on a world called Crydon. I grew up listening to that legend… I've always wanted to be like them."

Lovelace cocks his head, interested. "Just amazing! I don't believe I know that one! Is there lost treasure and adventure there on the world of Crydon?

Jarik continues, "The leader always carried this battered sword… It passed down through the generations." He smiles, "I've always wanted to own a weapon like that… old… It would be just like the stories."

Jarik says, "I don't know… I just know the heroic tales of their adventures. They never sought money… "

Lovelace nods. "Ahhh. He must have been fearsome and brave," the poodle says sincerely, bobbing his head like a puppet.

Lovelace says, "What was this hero's name?"

Jarik smiles, "The one I always heard of was T'Aris. A brave knight, last of the order. He helped lead an army to free the world from tyranny."

Lovelace says, "I say! I wonder if there's a book about him somewhere in all this!"

Jarik shrugs, "I don't know… I was told the tale by a friend a long time ago. The story ended with his death though… it was sad."

Jarik smiles and chuckles, "I'm sorry, here I am blabbing at you and I haven't even mentioned my name. I'm Jarik Fireclaw, pleasure to meet you"

Lovelace bows. "Lovelace," he says, adding a title that works out to the equivalent of an English earl.

Jarik smiles, "Pleasure to meet you."

With a clatter of bells, the door bangs open and then back again, as a harried Cervani butler clicks in, and focuses on Lovelace. "Sir! You are late with an appointment with the Bridge! I must INSIST that we be going this very moment. Your mother would most certainly disapprove of your being late."

The stag barely gives Lovelace enough time to pay for the books before he practically drags the poodle out – along with his servant – and to the street. Another jangle of bells, and they are gone.

The little rat quickly puts away the money, grinning to himself.

Jarik blinks and turn to the rat, "No metal swords then?" His ears droop, "Well… perhaps you've had a customer buy one from here once? Maybe he'd know where to get another… "

Jarik thinks, "Or perhaps someone else came here asking for such things before?"

The rat furrows his brow. "Listen, buddy. We sell antiques and curios here. We don't sell crown jewels or metal swords."

Jarik rubs his neck, "Well, they're antiques."

The rat rolls his eyes.

Jarik moves to look at the jewelry… "Has anyone else ever asked for one? Maybe I could talk to him."

"No," the rat grumbles. "NOBODY has done come in here 'spectin to find no metal swords in here."

Jarik doesn't find much of interest in the gaudy jewelry, "Do you know where I would go for such an item then?"

The rat's eyes squint. "Listen, buddy, you're really gettin' on my nerves. Are you tryin' to stir up some sort of trouble? Everybody knows that if you want something THAT special, you're not going to find it short of the Temple smiths … and you haven't a chance unless you can spend a small fortune for it. Ditto for the smithies in the Crafters' Quarter."

"So," the rat says, "you gonna buy something? Ain't no swords here – 'cept this one," he points at the gaudy decorative blade on the counter.

Jarik nods, "Well, then I'd best be on my way. If you do come across one though, could you send a note to the temple addressed to Ensign Jarik? I'd be grateful and would pay you for your time."

The rat's eyes glitter. "How much?"

Jarik says, "Depends, as low as five to ten shekels if the information isn't any good to as much as a silver if it helps me find a sword. I guess you could call it an agent's fee. Since you're much more knowlegeable about trade than I."

The rat's ears twitch. He looks thoughtful. You can almost hear the gears crank in his head. At last, he says, "Lemme see that silver."

Jarik reaches in his shirt to his moneybag and withdraws the silver that Tirro gave him. He flips it in the air and catches it.

The rat ponders, looking very very thoughtful. "What says I knows about something – but it ain't here? How much'd that be worth? Not saying that I do or nuthin'."

Jarik hmms, "Half a silver in value IF it's true information. If it turns out to be useful, the other half when I've found what I want. Surely thats more than fair for your services as a trade merchant? If it proves to be false… I won't be very happy and would expect a refund. If you refuse… I'd just have to inform the temple of your poor business practice."

The rat furrows his brow. "Well, let's just say that I knows that Achimed is off on a business trip – like I told yas. And he was takin' with him for this business some scrap metal he bought from a little Kavi… "

The rat drums his chin. "Real 'PORTANT scrap metal. He had it wrapped up in a long bundle in some cloth, see?"

Jarik nods, "Scrap metal? Really? I could use some of that… perhaps I could make one myself. Do you know where he went?"

The rat's eyes wander back toward Jarik and that silver coin. "Well, I done told you a lot already. It'd be a shame to split that silver in half. What say I save you the trouble and just take the whole thing? And mebbe I could tell you about where Achimed went so he can thank you fer your business personally."

Jarik rubs his chin, "And what if you're telling me this and it isn't true?"

The rat raises an eyebrow. "What – You think I'm gonna skip town and run away with just one silver?"

Jarik says, "No… I just want to be sure that I'm paying for true information. Thats all, kind sir."

Jarik tosses the rat the silver coin, "Here then."

The rat's eyes glitter greedily as he catches the coin. "Elamoore. Ol' Achee's off to Elamoore."

The rat's eye wanders back to Jarik. "And you can be SURE of that."

Jarik smiles, "You're a benefit to your trade, sir. Just one thing, where is Elamoore?"

The rat raises an eyebrow. "You dunno where Elamoore is? You must not get out much. That's the big trade city in the Himar region. Down on the lands, up north. Really nasty weather, though. He probably hadda take a caravan part of the way on ground."

Jarik nods and bows to the rat, "Thank you, sir. Pleasure to have done business with you."

The rat slips the coin away. "And how," he grins.

"Any road, if you still want the sword, I'll let ya have it for just five silvers… " the rat adds greedily.

Jarik spins around with a flourish, "No need for that one, sir." He pats the chitin sword at his waist, "I have a chitin sword. Once again, thank you."

Jarik walks to the door and exits back onto the street.

Jarik stands in front of the shop smiling. { Well Jarik, you've finally got a lead. Now… how to get to Elamoore in Himar? } O o . he ponders. The fox shrugs to himself. o O { Perhaps being 'shipped' away isn't such a bad thing after all. } He grins for a moment and walks back towards the temple.