“Okay, so let me take a look,” Thomasz requested with a rumble as he extended his open hand, “Pass it over.”

Velenne handed her broadsword over to the large man, hilt first.

“Where’s Kheven, anyway?” Thomasz asked her. She had been leaning on the counter, taking a tally.

“I don’t know,” Velenne replied flatly, “I’ve still never seen him.”

“And Lyra?” Thomas continued, eyes searching the room.

“Out. Though I think she just hired me.”

“Can she do that?”

“I guess so,” Velenne said with a shrug.

“Does Kheven know?”

“I don’t know,” Velenne repeated flatly, “I’ve still never met him.”

“So then Lyra trusts you?” Thomasz asked. He thought it was a wise question.

“I know I’VE come to trust HER,” replied Velenne with confidence, “And that’s good.”

Thomasz seemed confused for a moment. Who in the heavens was this half-elf girl? This ‘Velenne’? And why did everyone seem interested in her?

“Is it a woman thing?” he asked, thinking he was inspired by a notion that would help him understand.

“If I said ‘yes’, would that make it easier?”

“I… Uhm… I think so.”

“Then yes.”

Thomasz nodded once with a grunt.

“Alright, here.” Thomasz unsheathed his greatsword and passed it to Velenne. His brows raised slightly and a smirk disappeared from his face when the slender woman was able to heft the massive weapon in a one-handed grip. She then readied it in both hands while he took up a guard in sixte.

“Now come at me,” Thomasz ordered, broadening his awareness to ready himself for a fight, and to properly evaluate the weapon she had called ‘strange’.

She feinted nimby with the larger blade in tierce, and he followed trying to bind. But then Velenne rotated and arced the weapon through a sweep to a seconde position, pressing the attack forward. Thomasz’s reflexes took over and he jerked his smaller weapon into a quinte and barely parried her strike before it struck his chest.

Thomasz’s greatsword, in Velenne’s hands, now glowed with teal swirls matching her tattoos.

She gasped. “It’s not my sword, it's me!"