A slight humph of acceptance came from him as she mentioned the angles, though the tone gave it an air of ambiguity. He knew he could never thank the thief, no matter the outcome of their actions the intent also mattered and should be taken into consideration. For what did any of it mean if it was just to put up a front, or to simply get them away from something? Intent was just as important as the action itself in his eyes. As it stood no ‘noble’ deed or act of kindness he did deserved thanks in his eyes.

Taking the grappling hook from the moving statue Quincy carefully fumbled his way to success as he secured himself. He would not fall off twice in one day. At least not without securing himself for the second go round. To be entirely honest he couldn’t even remember how he felt, though one thing did stick with him. The sensation of falling was the only thing that seemed to stick, that weightlessness, that feeling of being untethered, it was all so serene and calming.

His mind got stuck on that feeling for a moment before coming to and hearing the young lady talk about her boots. Spider’s silk was it? To him it seemed like a rather interesting tool and he could only imagine how a kid like her came across such an item. Instead of asking he chose to just listen for a moment. Though that moment was short lived as she explained “Bstrid? As in Astrid…and Bstrid?” Her nomenclature would be the death of him.

“Wait who said I had any drink in me? I…Don’t make this any worse with anymore “little ladies” two is enough.” He couldn’t bring himself to lie, and he wasn’t a fan of how quick she was. Yet he was impressed to say the least, though it was bittersweet. The longer they interacted the sadder it became as he began to see how truly seasoned she was at such a young age.

The story of Kassim he knew well to be honest he could recite it in his sleep at this point. When you hear something a few hundred times you can do that. “Well Kassim was…an interesting fellow. Some say he was too smart for his own good, others say he was a fool. He was interlocked in mortal kombat with a dragon right here in the Cradle. Clad in his signature Dragoon armor with spear in hand. Their battle quickly took to the skies, the dragon’s wings were great and strong, but so were the wings of Kassim’s mount. Though there was no real fondness for scaled beasts in Kassim’s heart. So he rode something a bit more to his liking you would know it as the Arcuila.” He paused for Dramatic effect.

“Now you see why they thought he was a fool. Who rides something that is known for attracting lightning while clad in armor and carrying a spear? Did I mention it was in the middle of a thunderstorm? As the battle raged on Kassim got a brilliant idea, or maybe he found a swift. He road deep into the eye of the storm knowing the Dragon would follow and used the tip of his spear to collect all the storm’s lightning. Just as the Dragon’s Maw peered through the veil of cloud Kassim hurled his spear…” Any good storyteller knew the rule of three was powerful, and he used his last dramatic pause expertly, or so he felt.

Quincy’s unimpressed bewilderment at Astrid’s choice of not confusing herself or her duplicates makes the girl press her lips together tight to avoid giggling at his expression. “A-Aye,” she says. “Helps keep us from gettin’ confused when there’s a gaggle of us runnin’ around. Guess ya could call us the Alphabetstrids.” It’s silly, sure, but she is a kid, and her sense of humor doesn’t have to appeal to anyone else. It is genuinely easier for her to manage having Replicants.

“I say ya have drink in ya,” she says whilst getting back to work, shaking her hammer at him like a mother scolding a child. “First off, ya smell like booze, an’ I’ve smelled enough folks in alleys ta know that smell. What, ya think a half-dwarf ain’t privy ta booze? Fer some dwarves, it’s almost like they got a second sense fer the stuff. Can sniff it out like hounds. Second off, ya didn’t notice a nail stuck in yer back fer who knows how long.” Turning back to the nail she’s pressing against a shingle, Astrid slams the nail through the material in one practiced swoop before moving on to the next. “Ain’t gotta pretend. I know I’m small fer me age when compared ta humans, but I’ve seen me share a’ the world.”

While Quincy regales her with the tale of Kassim, Astrid listens intently, especially interested in what flying mount the warrior rode. “An Arcuila?” she repeats, sitting upright and looking at him with a furrowed brow. Having encountered Arcuilas firsthand, Astrid somehow doubts that unless the man were also a master sky mage, which is entirely possible. This would be the first story she’s ever heard of a tame Arcuila, so she says, “They don't just attract lightnin', they're like... elementals. So embodiments of it. I’ve been shocked by one a’ them. Screwed with me magic a lot. Same with me friend. Really helped us unlock new magical abilities. Was Kassim a sky mage? If he weren’t, then it were more likely a Thundercrested Roc. Those are tough ta tame, but if he’s involved with the WEF, then he’d have been able ta get one as a mount with their help.”

After a long pause, she turns back to her work. “Ah, sorry. Keep goin’.”

The story must go on, so she lets him continue by reminding herself that she has seen and done a lot of things in a very short time that others wouldn’t be privy to necessarily. Plus it’s rude to interrupt and correct people. Manners and all that.

There isn’t a single word that could properly convey the way Quincy’s face contorted upon hearing the name “Alphabetstrids”. The child had pieced together his weakness and had been doing this to torture him, this was obviously a test from the uncaring god…or some kind of punishment. No, that didn’t make sense for the uncaring god. Astrid was simply just a child with horrible naming abilities. She would hopefully grow out of it, but seeing the almost fruitless attempts at holding back her laughter left him with anything but hope.

Quincy could only look away from the girl in shame. She was wise beyond her years, and far more seasoned than he could have hoped. Perhaps it was foolish to try and hide or lie about his condition. No, he felt he had to at least try even if he failed. It wasn’t his place to introduce the young girl to something that could turn even the nicest of folk foul. Though to be entirely honest he wished she’d just leave it alone.

Patience was a virtue he’d gotten more and more mastery in as he grew older. If life was a some type of game with skills one might say at this age his skill level in patience would be exalted. So without uttering a word he let Astrid speak. As she began poking holes left and right in the story Quincy merely raised a single eyebrow. Clearing his throat he continued “Kassim atop his mighty Arcuila gathered all the lighting with the thundercloud and even more so from his great mount and hurled his spear into the Dragon’s maw. The spear pierced straight through the Dragon and tore through the other side, but not before distributing all of the lightning it had gathered. As the Dragon cascaded down from the firmament its body began to change as the lightning that surged through it began to cause the lifeless body to crystalize. And that is how Kassim slayed a Dragon. They say if you find pieces of the Dragon crystal you can still feel the vibrant lightning flowing through it.” A look of satisfaction came across Quincy’s face. Astrid could applaud now.

Astrid’s expression juxtaposes Quincy’s when he grimaces over her very clever punny name for herself and her duplicates. And he doesn’t do anything to question it or make a comment, he just accepts it, which gives her a deep sense of satisfaction. The satisfaction only deepens when Quincy doesn’t have a response for her calling out his drunkenness. It isn’t something that bothers her, being around drunk people, that is. In fact, she’s gone on her own little adventure with a drunken cowboy to taste the adult drinks for the first time, and that was a blast. She doesn’t judge. To dwarves, drink is drink.

After she interjects his story, she listens intently, timing the strikes of her hammer between words so she doesn’t miss anything while setting new shingles on the roof, though, she can’t help but make a face at the claim of an Arcuila being the mount. Still, it’s pretty grand, and if this hero really did manage it, then that’s a pretty impressive feat. Astrid finds herself a little disappointed that her experience adventuring reduces the magic of heroic stories that she otherwise would have never questioned besides wanting more details on the how.

All in all, it’s a good story. She pauses for a moment to listen to the climax before stifling a little chuckle at Quincy’s proud expression. Instead of clapping, she taps her hammer against a nail quickly in rhythm to mimic an applause of sorts while still being productive.

“Ya know…” she starts, considering her words before continuing, “I bet that’s one of them stories about how the Lightnin’ Fields came ta be. Dragon’s Cradle’s full a’ weird weather, s’pecially in The Wastes. I think it’s cause this whole place used ta be the body of a gigantic, ancient dragon. Wonder if it’s the one yer Kassim slayed. Would make a lotta sense.”

As Astrid tip-taps away at nails, she considers that Quincy has mentioned spears a bit since they met, and she looks over at him. “So ya like fightin’ with spears? Have ya got one? Me friend’s got a cool lightnin’ spear kinda like the one from yer story. Do ya have one like that?”

The quick rapping of hammer against nail shifts in his inebriated mind into a round of applause. There was little more any story teller could really ask for. As he basked in the afterglow the elements themselves brought it upon themselves to remind him of his current duties and the value of humility. The slightest breeze pressed against his back, unfortunately for him his focus wasn't on his balance. He wobbled a bit and quickly righted himself before he took another spill off the roof. Making as little sound as he could as not to garner any unwanted attention. Last thing he needed was to have this kid giving him another unnecessary earful, or any more of her “healing”. This had to be the first time, that he could remember, he'd ever been treated so roughly by a child. Physically and verbally. The words manhandled, oafish, ham handed, tactless, blunt, crass, abrasive, curt all came to mind. Though she seemed good despite all that. The words kind, selfless, and some others also came to mind. As he thought back on his near fall he knew this had to be the drink, or so that's what he told himself. He also knew no one saw, or so that's what he told himself. 

As she paused and then spoke an eyebrow rose on Quincy. What was that pause exactly? Could Kassim have been the one that slayed ‘THE’ dragon? Quincy's hammer nearly slammed against his thumb. His focus staying too long on the rather interesting ideas Astrid was posing. If that was the case Kassim had indeed set quite the goal. To stay a creature so mighty their remains become a whole region of the world? The dreams of a young Quincy seemed far less attainable in that one thought. How could anyone consider themselves a member of such an impactful group if they themselves have not made such an impact? 

“Heh”

He could only chuckle to himself, to think he wanted to be one of them. A legend told under, and apparently on, rooftops across the world.

“Yeah that would make sense. Both the lightning and the dragon. Seems like you may be on to something.”

Quincy went back to working. Trying to get his mind off of the dreams of yore and instead focus on the task before them. This roof wasn't going to prepare itself for the coming storms. As his hammer picked up a rhythm Astrid spoke again, asking about his spear. His eyes quickly lost what life they held, his hammer missed its mark entirely instead shattering a single into pieces. He paused for a moment, carefully set the hammer down, cleaned the shingle up, and went back to work.

“I did, yes. I don't have a spear anymore.”

Astrid can’t help an amused smile seeing Quincy’s mood brighten up at the idea that his hero might have taken down a dragon as big as a region. Of course, Astrid doesn’t know the true origin story of Dragon’s Cradle or why it has such an affinity for lightning, but the big ancient dragon idea is a fun one, so it’s something she likes to think about. Granted, that dragon would have needed to be bigger than Vulcadreaus, and that sleepy lava dragon was a god. It’s fine.

Her hammering comes to a stop when Quincy says that he doesn’t have a spear. Given his earlier stupor, she isn’t exactly surprised by this. Maybe he lost it in a bet or sold it or someone stole it from him. Astrid looks over at him, not with pity or confusion but what could be described as a sort of deadpan optimism. “I could make ya a new one,” she offers with such simplicity, one might think it would take no more than an afternoon. “Ya know, as thanks fer helpin’ us out with storm proofin’.” Then she goes back to setting shingles. If he wants to be someone of myth and legend like Kassim, he’ll need a weapon.

The idea of her making him a spear. As payment for his half drunken work was hardly appropriate. Quincy scoffed and shook his head. He couldn't accept any level of work, from piss poor to Mastercraft, as a way of payment for his mediocrity. Handiwork was never his strong suit anyway. Though if skills ran through family trees then he should be able to reshingle this entire roof drunk, blindfolded, and juggling with one hand. His father was one of the handiest people he'd ever known, and knew his work was worth such a prize. Did Quincy believe that Astrid was worth her weight in salt when it came to working a forge wasn't a question. He truly didn't care if she was just some Apprentice with delusions of grandeur. He felt himself unworthy of taking anything from her without giving her something of equivalent value. 

“I haven't known you long, but I have a feeling you don't take nos very well. Could I interest you in a lesson with the spear? That in combination with the work I did should be worth your…skills. Knowledge is truly all I own worth a damn...anymore” Quincy's hand rested on his neck as he squeezed the tense muscles firmly, massaging them. Without waiting to hear the young girl's response his hammer began tapping away at the roof again. There was still a job left to be done after all. A whimsical feeling washed over him for a moment. Was she really who she claimed to be? Someone her age having all this was baffling to say the least, and adding blacksmith to the list made it seem more and more outlandish. Sure she might be an orphan adventurer, but the magic, the constructs, was it all really her doing or was she just some kid in the right place with the right friends and new parents? 

“Astrid, who really are you? How did you really get all of this.” His arm waved, gesturing toward the clone, the boots, and constructs with a tone adults make that could only be described as ‘Alright, now it's time to tell the truth’. Would he even believe her? Could he even believe her? Remembering the healing magic she performed he felt it necessary to keep somewhat of an open mind. 

Astrid purses her lips a little while she considers his offer, stifling a giggle when he mentions that she probably won’t take no for an answer. She would, but she would also probably give him a hard time about it. Besides, she’s never gotten to make a real spear before, just a couple of them as practice. This could be a good opportunity to learn what makes a good spear. “Well, if that makes it a fair trade, then sure! I ain’t all that familiar or good with spears meself, so I’d take a lesson. An’ ya can tell me what makes a spear a good weapon so I can make the best one possible. Knowledge is worth a lot in me own opinion.”

Just before she starts adding more shingles, she pauses and looks at him, watching his arm motioning to the variety of companions and things she has. “Huh?” Astrid says for a moment. She tries to remember if she introduced herself and recalls that she did, but that doesn’t really say a lot about her, does it? Setting her hammer down, she turns to face Quincy. “Uh, what, do ya want me whole resumé?” She shrugs then starts off, “I’m Astrid Stormstone. I got adopted by Cantio von Lumen ‘bout a year ago. Started adventurin’ a few months before that. Always wanted ta be an armorsmith, but now I know ‘bout more stuff, so I kinda do a lot a’ craftin’ an’ tinkerin’. I’m part a’ the Mage’s Guild, Golden Consortium, an’ Winged Expeditionary Force. Charles was a gift, an’ Buttfellow I made after learnin’ golemancy from the Mage’s Guild. Uh… I’ve done a bunch a’ adventurin’, fought two gods, earned meself a noble title, an’.... Now I’m fixin’ roofs an’ thinkin’ about makin’ a cool spear.”

With expectant eyes, Astrid looks at Quincy wondering if that’s good enough for him.

Quincy leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. That was a question he knew the answer to by heart, but he needed to think of how to articulate it properly. As if the answer was engraved in his soul but his mouth just didn't know how to speak it right away. His brow relaxed, shoulders didn't feel as burdened, and jaw unclenched as he continued to ruminate over the question. What makes a good spear? Then he made… a sound.

His breathing got deeper and for the briefest second it slowed to a snail's pace. “A spear should have a good balance to it weight wise. Though Spears are cheap and easy to make, good to use if you're in need of arming a large group of untrained soldiers quickly. The shaft should be made of a durable yet flexible material to keep from breaking during battle. My old spear had a small sphere on the opposite end of the head so that I could be just as fearsome with either side. If you add things like that you have to be sure the balance isn't thrown off. If you throw off the balance you can't throw the spear properly.” 

He leaned forward rubbing his neck, rolling it one way before the other. With a deep breath he started going back to work. His demeanor a bit more relaxed than before. As Astrid went through her resumé the old lush continued to work one shingle at a time. Though his hands continued working his ear definitely belonged to the young lady. To think she truly was an adventurer doing so many amazing things. “Guess kids these days are starting younger than us, huh?” It was honestly the hardest pill to swallow, but there was little choice he felt he had left but to believe. 

While Quincy describes the necessary components of a good spear, Astrid stops her work and pulls a small notebook from her bag along with a piece of charcoal and starts taking notes. At times, her head nods side to side in consideration for the advantages of a spear if the hands holding it are untrained. They’ll certainly keep danger at a slightly larger distance, and it helps that they can be thrown. Like any good weapon, they require balance. She seems to already have some ideas ruminating when she snaps the book closed and stuffs it back in her bag. “Thanks! I’ll make sure ta have ya test whatever I make before ya go anywhere. Can’t have ya gettin’ hurt ‘cause I messed up makin’ it.”

Then she’s back to work for the briefest of moments before she lays out her adventuring journey thus far, or at least accomplishments. An amused smile pulls at the edges of Astrid’s mouth when Quincy speaks again. “Well, it were either headin’ off an’ makin’ me own way or just keep waitin’ around here fer someone that ain’t comin’ back,” she says, though her eyes take on a solemn glimmer behind the matter-of-fact tone. “I did enough waitin’ around, an’ some folks were kind enough ta help me get started.” With a shrug, she adds, “Ain’t like kids with good home lives venture out into the world on their own.”

As she takes a nail and hammer in her hand again, Astrid continues. “Not ta say I don’t have a happy home life. I do now that I got Da an’ Wolfe – they’re a friend that I adventured around with fer a while. I s’pose if I wanted, I wouldn’t have ta leave home again, but I like adventurin’. It’s excitin’, an’ I’ve learned a lot an’ met a lot a’ great folks that I never would a’ met if I’d just sat around here mopin’ an’ bein’ lonely. Feels good ta be in a spot ta help people, ‘specially folks like me.”

There was a moment after he finished describing the spear. For just a breath he found himself back at the blacksmith with Fluffy. The smells of sweat, molten metal, and determination filled the air. He was much younger than maybe a handful or so more years older than Astrid. That was the day he'd got his first spear. The memory of him testing for the first time with fluffy brought a smile to his face. The spear that was supposed to see him on his rise to entering those books of stories his parents read to him as a child. His fist clenched tighter around the hammer as the grain of the wood felt wrong to him. It was off. To compare it to the love and care his spear had received would be an insult to the craftsmen. That spear felt perfectly balanced to him, as if it was made exclusively for him and if anyone even tried to touch it they'd find it completely unusable. That was his spear. He could recall the way it shredded through the wind how it was like music to his ears the sounds it made. This kid was going to make something to replace that? He would cherish it either way. “I'm sure whatever you make will be fine.” His voice carried an air of happiness with his words as he finished reliving the past.

Thinking back on her words he found they rang true. His home life wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either and he'd found himself in a new area, new to him anyway, training with the spear. The truth of her words wasn't something he could easily refute. “I suppose you're right about that. If you had a better home maybe the world would be robbed of one of its heroes, or maybe you'd have started out a little later. What do you think? Do you think you'd still meet all the people you've met had you not become an adventurer? Would you still be an adventurer? Is who you are today an inevitability or a reaction to the situation you found yourself in? Questions I ask myself no need to answer.” He was genuinely curious to hear what she thought, though in truth there was no way of knowing the outcome had the cards fallen differently. At least not to his knowledge. He kept his last question to himself thinking it best not to ask. Trials and tribulations aside he was glad their paths crossed. He only wished they could have met without them both knowing such pain.

Astrid pauses setting the last shingle while she considers Quincy’s questions. They’re all things she’s thought about from time to time, but since nothing can change, she never really bothered to dwell on the “What if?”s of her life. There are a lot of things that might be very different if someone hadn’t made a decision. In her mind, someone presented her an opportunity, and she took it.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits. “I think I spent a lot ‘a time wonderin’ how thin’s might be different instead a’ doin’ somethin’ about it. Maybe I coulda gotten started sooner. Maybe it woulda happened later. Fact is, stuff happened the way it did, an’ I don’t think I’d change much a’ anythin’ ‘cause the way thin’s worked out real well. I got people who love me fer me, an’ that’s better than all the heroics an’ titles.” A smile crosses Astrid’s face as she sits more upright.

“I can’t even say if I’d still adventure. It was always somethin’ I liked the sound of, but bein’ a proper smith is somethin’ else I’d always wanted ta do. Lucky fer me, I get ta do both.” With confidence, Astrid gets to her feet and dusts herself off then she looks at Quincy. “What say we go get started on that spear? Me duplicates can help finish the next roof long as none of ‘em fall off or smash their thumbs. You can tell me 'bout some a' yer adventures while we're workin'.”

With the final shingle in place their work on this roof was done. The job was done. That sentence echoed in his mind as if read by a monotone teacher. Devoid of emotion, apathetic even, those words reminded him that's all this was. The words of young Astrid proved to be the golden lacquer that held the pot together on this rather mundane task. Taking his time clambering down the roof as not to fall…again. Quincy rested his hammer against the building. It seemed as if he had nothing but time to ponder the what ifs these days. As these monotonous tasks proved to just be a way for him to busy his body while his mind wandered off. The what ifs were all he could think about some days.

“If you believe in fate then I suppose this was all inevitable. You were fated to become a blacksmith and an adventurer. Just like you were fated to meet those you hold dear. So it all happened when and how it should have happened…you may be right to forget about the what ifs.” Quincy lightly shook his head at the idea. Though one thing he did think was true, her timing was good, that is to say she spent the right amount of time simmering on the what ifs. The rest felt like hogwash. The idea that everything they did was predetermined never sat well with him. His hand was the one that held the brush and he was going to paint on his canvas whether he liked what colors he covered the canvas in or not.

“I'd rather hear more about your stories. Mine aren't worth telling these days. Here's a question, what ideas do you have for the spear?” He didn't even attempt to hide the desire to change subjects and instead dove into anything that might take the spotlight off him. These more recent stories weren't the type he cared to share with children, no matter how seasoned. The old stories were mostly about his time in training, nothing eventful. Without much to tell the most appealing option was in fact to change the subject. 

For a moment, Astrid thinks about Quincy’s words and talk of fate. While she thinks that things worked out for the best and that she wouldn’t change them, she honestly hates the idea that fate is the reason she sat around acting helpless for so long. “I dunno if fate’s got anythin’ ta do with it,” she starts thoughtfully. Memories of a wise old warrior from Zeinav flicker through her mind, reminding her that he made a choice to defy what fate might have in store for him. “Fact a’ the matter is choices get ya where ya are. I chose ta sit around waitin’.. Folks chose ta help me. I chose ta start adventurin’. People choose ta love me just as much as I choose ta love them. An’ you chose ta help out around here, so I’m choosin’ ta do somethin’ nice in return.”

With confidence, Astrid strolls over to the side of the roof and simply… jumps off. Out of view, she catches herself quickly with little pockets of wind that press up against her feet, defying gravity while she waltzes down to the ground^[1] and then takes the ladder in hand to sturdy it just in case Quincy decides to take another tumble. Luckily, he doesn’t, and the two of them are both on the ground perfectly safe. Astrid hands a few tools to a Replicant and directs her to go help out with a couple of other things. Then she waves to the two golems to follow her and Quincy while they make their way out to the main road.

“Any story worth rememberin’ is worth tellin’,” she says, looking back at Quincy. “An’ the one ya told me earlier gave me a good idea fer the spear. The hero had a lot ta do with lightnin’ an’ that happens ta be me own specialty. So… I think ya’ll like what I’ve got cookin’ in me brain. But first I gotta make somethin’ right an’ proper before puttin’ a bunch a’ magic into it. Follow me!”

With a pep in her step and excited for a new project, Astrid strolls along the main road and eventually out to the outskirts of town where after ten or so minutes of walking, the two adventurers and two golems approach a manor built near one of the mountain cliffs. The house makes the kid look even smaller than she is, especially the especially large and heavy wooden door under the covered porch. But, rather than approaching the front door, Astrid heads down a grassy slope along the side of the house into a backyard that overlooks a gorgeous view of the Dragon’s Spine. In the backyard, there is a greenhouse and several tall metal rods with metal cables that connect to a sort of cistern attached to the back of the house.

Beside the cistern is a door with a window that leads into the stone-walled basement. With a little spark of electricity on some runes beside the door, Astrid opens it up to reveal the workshop inside. She doesn’t spend much time on introducing the different areas more than a simple, “Come on in! Sit wherever ya like!” before she rushes around and starts pulling spears that she forged for practice before and yanking out drawers to find a notebook full of drawings. She promptly sets all of these things in a haphazard pile on the large table in the center of the room which has several stools scattered around to sit on.

If Quincy is familiar with blacksmiths, he might notice that there are two forges along the exterior wall, one of which has an area for firewood or coal and the other which lacks any such features besides a metal door at Astrid’s chest height and a lever on the wall.

While Astrid spreads the spears around, she starts talking with a lot of excitement. “Okay, so I’ve got a few spears I’ve tried ta make before, an’ while I’ve done about as much readin’ as I can on techniques an’ whatnot, I ain’t exactly familiar with ‘em enough ta know what feels right. I’ve got some basic spears. Ya know, metal or wood shafts with basic spear heads on ‘em, but I also got some fun ideas that are a little more wacky – I just don’t know how practical they could be.” She motions to a couple of drawings in a book of a spear with a twisting, almost corkscrew design that runs from one end to another. Notes indicate it would be completely made of metal.

Then she looks at him, obviously open to any ideas he may have.

---

1. Step of the Wind

A somewhat pleased look grew across Quincy's face as heblistened to Astrid denounce the idea of fate. Something he completely agreed with. The idea that any of them were destined to go through, at times, such tumultuous trials and tribulations seemed ridiculous, and to go further and say the gods had a hand in it proved even more foolish to him. Why would such powerful beings be so involved in the lives of such insignificant creatures in their eyes?

The concept was something he simply couldn't wrap his head around. Though her collection of choices ending him helping so she's doing something for him didn't leave him with the best feeling. “I didn't do this for you to…” he paused mid sentence as he was touched by a moment of clarity. A reflex kicked in and his folded across his chest and that pleased look was quickly replaced by a grimace of realization. “...You're going to do it no matter what I say.”

Slowly Quincy made his way to the edge of the roof and carefully stepped down using the ladder. Even if the young one wanted to help it was always better to be safe than sorry. There had been more than enough lessons on gravity for everyone's sake. Brushing off his clothes Quincy followed behind the child at a leisurely pace but with long strides. Allowing himself to follow just behind the lady since she was leading the way. Even with the time he had been in this town there was no way he was going to be able to find the main road as quickly as her.

An eyebrow raised at Astrid's persistence. “That's just what people tell you when they want you to talk despite you having declined. There are many stories you remember that aren't worth telling, mundane, disgusting, painful. You'll learn some doors are better left unopened.” The words, though true, left a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Heh. Sounds like you liked the story, keep in mind that even if some of it was true parts of it are still more than likely embellished. Have you ever seen someone throw a spear of lightning?” The path the group took led them to the outskirts of town and to be honest this was a rather interesting way to go. If the young lady was in fact a Lady then why were they headed towards the outskirts? Things seemed a bit odd to him, but to be fair he was never one to care for the comings and goings or activities of lords and ladies. 

As they finally reached their destination, the journey felt far longer than it actually was, with eyes wide Quincy admired the rather large manor. The wooden door looked to be pricey by itself. Though as he was about to approach he noticed the child veer off down a slope. Perhaps this manor was just a marker? That thought was fleeting as one of the grandest views of the Dragon's Spine he had seen.

There was no time to enjoy it, due in no small part to his small friend's quick pace, and before he knew it he was next to a cistern, through a door, sparks on runes(?), inside what he could only assume is a workshop and being told to sit. Grabbing what he could only assume was some type of sitting device Quincy sat down. Though what he lacked in knowledge of workshops and forges he made up for it in his knowledge of the spear. 

As soon as a spear was placed his hands immediately grabbed one. He began to mumble. “Balance is off. Materials too heavy, throw would be off. This ones too rigid, no flexibility. Did you say wacky?” to be entirely honest he'd completely missed everything she'd said up until that word and now she had his attention.