* * *

“I win.”

“Since when… was it… a race?”

Zimthose and Lance stood at the top of some stairs in the Haven Bazaar. After making their way across the fountain in the Town Square, with no less than a few dozen pairs of eyes on them the whole way, they’d split up before making their way to the western end of Haven’s main market.

“You’re the one who took the rooftops and random alleyways to get here sooner. But I managed to get here at the same time by running the main route everyone takes. Therefore, I win,” Zimthose said proudly. Lance took a deep breath to compose himself while glaring at his squadmate.

“No, if you arrive second, then you’re second. It’s your fault you didn’t take any of the shortcuts like I did. That’s half the reason I came along with you anyways!”

The Striker and Technician Knight made their way down the steps, their shouting echoing off the stone walls on either side. As they reached the bottom, the short but unpaved walkway branched to the right and left. The path was only a few meters wide, with nothing but an ankle-high stretch of stone bordering a cliff. Not too far below was Haven’s western residential district, and this particular spot of the Bazaar granted a pleasant view of the city. The two took a sharp left, just about at their destination.

“What was your other reason for coming then? The ‘smogger’ you were talking about?”

“Wow, I’m surprised you remembered.”

“It wasn’t even an hour ago. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“Of course not! You wouldn’t still be alive if you were,” Lance said with a smirk. “But you can’t blame me for thinking you pay so little attention most of the time. I mean, you had to come today because you forgot last night, yeah?”

“Yeah, but I wanted this sword so bad. I mean, just look at its teeth!” Zimthose unsheathed the blade at the right of his hip, brandishing it to Lance. The sword had three massive serrations on it, giving the appearance not unlike a curved lightning bolt, and the color of an ocean blue. “The auctioneer said it was a ‘Striker,’ and given my occupation, I couldn’t just let some Guardian take it!”

“A Guardian wanted that, of all swords? It’s too short to properly defend any heavy blows with.”

“Well, their auctions are all done through their digital system, so I’m not sure who the other buyer might have been. But I wasn’t taking any chances!” Zimthose said as he put the sword back.

Finally, they had arrived. The large, openair workstation in front of them seemed deserted, with all manner of tools and bolts laying about. A couple of glass tanks filled with unknown substances stood at the back, half full, and several crates were overflowing with weapons and armor of all kinds, both of Spiral Knight and Cradle origin. Two towering pylons stood without power near the ‘entrance’ to the workspace, a lever in front of them cranked to the left.

“Well, we’re at the workshop, but where are the workshoppies?” Zimthose asked.

“I’m pretty sure it’d be ‘workshoppers,’ Zim.”

“What’s it matter? They’re not here! How am I supposed to go on a mission without my gear? I’m not taking out a loan on some hunk of junk from the armory, I can tell you that.”

“Nay, that’dn’t be any fun. Twould get the job done, though.”

A voice echoed from somewhere behind one of the tables. Zimthose walked around to find a hatch in the ground, door wide open, and a mass of grey struggling to get up through the tight hole. He was about to offer a hand when a soft pop sounded, and the Gremlin was freed.

“There you are, Vise! We were beginning to worry you were out,” Lance said, siding up next to Zimthose to greet the blacksmith. Vise was short, even for a Gremlin, standing a few inches shorter than either of the knights. He wore a hooded bodysuit made of leather and lead, and hid his face behind a large mask. Only the right eye seemed to be open, shining blue, and it wore massive metallic eyebrows and a beard with three vertical vents where the mouth would be. 

“Afternoon to you, laddies. I’d offer a drink, but I got me hands full of some steel at the moment. If you wouldn’t mind?” Vise gestured to Zimthose with a nod. As he stepped forward, he quickly recognized the black and purple weapons Vise had in his arms.

“Ohhh, you’ve already got ‘em out for me! How’d you know I was coming?” he asked, taking the sword and gun in each hand.

“Everyone can hear you from half a mile away, Zeem,” Vise replied with a chuckle. “You twos were bickering the whole way here?”

“Nah, just while we were together,” Lance replied with a wave of his hand. He couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the new toys Zimthose had. “So, what’d you mad geniuses come up with this time?”

“Oh, twasn’t us that be mad this time. He’s the ‘un with the crazy idea to put a blade on his boomstick. Can’t imagine what for,” Vise said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Regardless, we obliged. I also took a few liberties to not just repair but to enhance the Nightblade. Uncommon type of blade it is, I must say. But now it’s better than any other ‘katana’ out there. I promise that much.”

Zimthose placed the sword on the workbench, using his now free hand to break open the twin barreled sawed-off. It had been given a new coat of matte-black, with a thin line of purple running down the top of each barrel.

“Um, Zim? What in the ever-loving nightmare is that?” Lance asked, taking a step back as he pointed to the large, arcing blade running between the underbarrel of the gun.

“Hmm? Didn’t you hear Vise?” Zimthose asked, turning the gun on its side to show off its new feature. “I had him take the blade of an axe and fix it to the bottom of Shotty, here.” Sure enough, the shallow head of an axe had been affixed to the weapon, running underneath and between the twin barrels. With a flick of his wrist, the shotgun snapped shut with a satisfying clack; despite the new addition to the gun, it wasn’t too heavy to make maneuver difficult.

“And why did you feel the need to put an axe to the bottom of a shotgun?”

“Well for one, it’s easier to switch to melee than to reload, duh.”

“Isn’t that what your swords are for? You know, the one you just had to get last night, and the one sitting on the bench right there? It’s not even an axe head, it looks more like a saw!” Lance said, pointing to the serrations on the gun’s blade. 

“Oh for the– can you stop nagging, Lance?” Zimthose sighed, shaking his head. “Nobody shares my vision for what I could do, if only I had the tools. If experimenting with new gear to reach my goals is that irritating for you, then bite me!”

“Settle down, settle down,” Vise said, stepping between them. “Lance, I’ll admit it was an odd request, but given your squad’s accomplishments, it’d be foolhardy of me indeed if I denied Zeem on that issue alone. At times, it’s the oddest ideas that bring about the grandest realities. As a Gremlin, that I know.” Lance crossed his arms but didn’t say anything, only giving a slow nod. “Now then, Zeem. This gun still has a two-stage trigger pull like before, right barrel then left. The new trigger I added instead works the underbarrel. Try it out.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Zimthose said, walking a few paces away. He pulled the new trigger, placed just behind where the gun broke in half to reload, and the blade shot out so that it was almost fully exposed from under the muzzle.

“It’s spring loaded, and will wack a wallop in a pinch if you need. The front of it’s flat so you can shove it back into place without injury, but be careful not to slip a finger on the teeth of the blade.”

“So you can give it, what, almost a foot of extra reach with that?” Lance asked.

“Any more, and it’d imbalance the weight too much. At least, that’s why I’d assumed Zeem asked for it that way,” the blacksmith said. Zimthose didn’t reply as he forced the blade back into position under the barrel and placed it in his coat.

“What about the sword?” Lance asked, walking over to the other weapon.

“The Nightblade is simply better than before,” Vise explained. “Larger and sharper blade, but not too much to make it feel any different from before. Used more of the Clockwork’s darker energies and materials to forge it.”

“Darker energies and materials?” Zimthose asked, picking the sword up. He used his thumb to pop the sword out of its scabbard an inch, eyeing it carefully.

“Aye. Smelted some Phear Phials and a Ghost Bell I got from some Devilites a few months ago, and used some of their brimstone and dark crystals to fuse ‘em together. Had some of their Forbidden Fruits while I was at it. Good stuff, but not sure why it’s ‘forbidden,’ really,” Vise explained as he hopped onto the workbench. He now stood over the two knights and gave a prideful huff as he continued. “I’ve been a blacksmith and done quite a bit of alchemy for quite some time, you know. And I tell you, this is one of the darkest pieces of equipment I’ve ever made, not to mention seen. And I’m no spring Snipe, so that means something!”

Zimthose pulled the sword out of its sheath, gazing at the blade as he held it in one hand. He could almost feel the darkness Vise was talking about pulling him in; the near-black ultra-high-carbon steel with a twin streak of purple close to the tip of the blade, which now also produced a small hook… it seemed to drown out the sound around him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s with the protrusions?” Lance asked, pointing to the spine of the sword. There was a small rounded box jutting out from just above the hilt on the sword and sheath, with a purple minus sign in the middle of it.

“It’s the Energy compartment. See the sign?” Vise said. “You Spiral Knights had a neat idea with the Brandish. A sword that fires waves of energy with a swing, hah! Using that technology to make the Nightblade was interesting, but it had a small compartment in the hilt to power its wave effect. Hardly lasted very long at all, maybe a day with constant use. I figured giving it a larger battery would prove most beneficial, and doubly so by putting a backup on the sheath, as well as for balance.”

“How much better batteries are we talking here?” Zimthose asked, his voice giddy.

“On average? Four or five times. Each.”

Zimthose and Lance’s jaws dropped.

“Seriously? You could power several hundred energy blasts with this… you wouldn’t need to worry about taking extra packs with you, even if you were in the Clockworks for several days!” Lance started shouting, ecstatic. “With the implementation of element-based Brandishes recently, and if we use this for our firearms, this could revolutionize the frontlines! Squads would have to worry about supplies management less, making them more mobile or last longer before needing to return, or–”

“Woah, woah there Lance! Calm down,” Zimthose said, putting the sword back in its sheath and affixing opposite the Striker already on his belt. “We get it. I’m sure Vise, of all people, knows that without you explaining it.”

“Tis alright, Zeem. I already contacted your armorers about it, and sent the recipe for alchemizing it over. As well as the bill for developing it, hehe,” the Gremlin giggled, rubbing his hands together. “Speaking of…”

He trailed off as he slowly looked Zimthose’s way.

“Don’t tell me…” Lance groaned, but Zimthose wouldn’t meet either of their gazes. “Seriously? You didn’t pay up front?”

“I didn’t have the crowns on me at the time!”

“It’s more expensive if you pay after the fact!”

“That doesn’t matter if I didn’t have the crowns to pay the cheaper fee beforehand!” The two knights were at each other's throats, totally forgetting about Vise right next to them. A quick ahem from the Gremlin cooled Lance off, who took a deep breath.

“Fine, that’s fair. But how did you scrounge up the crowns needed for all that in a week?” Lance asked, perplexed. Zimthose opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, looking down. Not at the new and improved Nightblade, or the gun hidden in his coat, but…

“Oh… right…” Zimthose mumbled, taking a few steps back.

“You. Did. Not.”

“Am I missing something here, laddies?” Vise asked as he hopped down from the workbench. He walked up to Zimthose, finally eyeing the unfamiliar sword at his belt. “Oho, fancy looking steel there, Zeem.” He shook his head, peering straight up into Zimthose’s eyes. “It wouldn’t happen to know where my money went now, would it?” He may have been short, but the tone of his voice and low grumble from deep in his chest gave off an intimidating aura.

“Ha, ha, funny, Vise,” Zimthose said mechanically. “How could it know something like that? It’s just a sword!”

“That you happened to buy last night at an auction,” Lance muttered, making sure he was just loud enough for Vise to hear.

Not helping! Zimthose mouthed, clearly peeved.

CLANG!

A large wrench smashed onto the workbench, echoing a silence unto the workshop. Lance and Zimthose stood stock-still, as the Gremlin before them breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. 

“I don’t. Work. For free.” Vise picked up his wrench, and glared at Zimthose. “You want those weapons, you pay up. Period.”