It was noon when they entered the shop. A dark and warm place, with two drapes of dull blue velvet hanging from a rail up high, just below the straight wooden beam, blocking all vision to the other side save for the gap between the beam and the slanted ceiling - but that was too high regardless, so nothing but more ceiling was visible through it. A short stairway was visible which led up to a raised platform, but then there was that wall of thick velvet, like the curtain on a theatre stage. A large keg to the left, windows and crates to the right, a red rug in the middle, placed without care for symmetry or elegance.
"Come in" a voice beckoned them.
And they did exactly that. They hung their cloaks and coats on two pegs near the door and went ahead. They saw the tall merchant sat on a chair as they parted the curtains, with two more empty chairs in front of him and a goblet of wine in his hand. His vibrant green eyes looked up at the dwarves, and they bowed deeply from their waist.
"Bamamur Mattockhead and my son Bimur. At your service and your family's, Master Gerlof" said the oldest one.
The man whistled in amazement at that, but he chuckled quietly shortly after.
"Much honoured, Bamamur. Please, have a drink with me and then sit down. Bottle and goblets are on the table behind me. Bimur, you too, help yourself, put down that bundle and have a sip."
The room was lit by a fireplace on the right, and opposite to it there was yet another blue velvet curtain blocking a doorway to yet another room; between the two was another red rug, placed less carelessly than the other. The man's armchair was between the fireplace and the table, then behind the table there was a door, on the right, closed. They dared not look at it for longer than a brief moment.
"Mister Gerlof. We would both like to begin by extending our thanks. Your coming was a boon to us, our family gained much prestige when you appointed me foreman, and you gave my son a stable future by opening a smithy for him."
"Aye. I'm glad you're happy with your situation, but I insist on specifying that what I gave your son is front money to start his own business. I expect every single penny to be returned, with due interest."
"Yes sir, thank you sir" replied the younger dwarf, dipping his head.
Bamamur stared at his son, tense and speechless.
"You're welcome. Sit down then! Don't strain your legs any longer, I am guessing the journey was long enough."
"Indeed it was, but eventually we arrived, and we have brought you a gift from the smithy. Bimur, fetch the bundle."
The younger dwarf dipped his head yet again and, as his father went to sit, he went to unwrap the gift. Within was a beautiful falchion, in a beautiful scabbard. The latter was of black lacquered wood, steel bands wrapped around the body in several places for added strength and gilded with floral patterns for added opulence. The locket and chape were also made of steel and gilded with floral patterns. The blade was long and slender, flaring out only slightly towards the end and then tapering back to a point, strangely without any gilding on it but just the maker's signature engraved just above the guard. The two quillons were bent up in the blade's direction. The guard consisted also of a half-knucklebow and a small plate shaped like a shell on one side of the quillons, which would give the back of the hand some protection when the weapon was being held. The quillons flared out, giving more room for gilded floral patterns, and the shell was detailed with gold leaf. The grip was wrapped in white sharkskin, and the pommel had the shape of a drake's head, also detailed with gold leaf and with garnets for eyes.
"Marvellous. I rarely find myself wearing anything bigger than a knife, but I'll find an occasion to show that off, no doubt. Sit then, Bimur. Let us talk."
"There would be more, Master Gerlof. With your permission..."
"Go right ahead."
The dwarf sat down.
"I want to forge a harness for you, sir. I came all the way to measure you, I will come again once I'm finished and I will do the last fittings here. It will not be a great warrior's outfit, but something light, comfortable, elegant, better suited for a respectable man such as yourself. Helmet, breastplate and pauldrons, and a buckler to match the sword."
The man grinned again, showing his rows of golden teeth.
"A harness. For myself. Aye, I would love that. I have never worn more armour than a gambeson, Bimur, you knew that?"
"No, sir."
"Now you do. And it will be your responsibility to make it fit like a second skin. I am a man of comfort, you know I won't wear it if it ain't comfortable."
"I will do my best, sir."
"That's the spirit. Well!" The man turned to the older dwarf again. "Bamamur. Now, let's deal with more pressing matters. How fares the mine?"
He swallowed and wiped the sweat off his brow before replying:
"It is a young mine in rich grounds. It will last long... About the rest..."
"Pray, tell me."
"Not so good. Production went down."
"Production went down? How far down? Does it suck in more coin than it puts out?"
"No. No, sir. Not that far down."
"Very well, then. We ain't got a problem. It will go up as you grow accustomed to your new position."
"Sir... I am not as good a foreman as my predecessor Limi. He had experience, he made the mine run better, I can not figure out how to do that."
"My good Bamamur! That's true, Limi was a far better foreman than you are now. But you know what? He ain't good enough for me, no. Not good at all. He really loved the previous owner, he had given him a respectable position, with a respectable salary... Me? To him, I'm just some rich foreigner who bought the mine. That ain't good at all."
The man looked between the dwarves, who remained silent and avoided his eyes as if a lightning would strike them had they ever met his gaze. He barked out a laughter.
"Relax you two! Nobody's ever seen me chewing on a dwarf's arm."
"We're sorry, sir... We're told you are strict and unforgiving, it feels like treading on thin ice to us, I am sure you understand."
"I do understand, my good Bamamur. You must also understand something: I can see the good will behind a misplaced word, and I can see the bad will behind a sweet speech. Go ahead, pour yourselves more wine, make yourselves comfortable. And tell me more of the journey, fuck's sake, I'm curious."
