Chachanji, seemingly finished with the sharpening now, hefted up the grand blade and tilted it this way and that - giving it one last look-over as the newly honed edge glittered in the light that spilled in from the open doorway of the smithy. It wasn't the sharpest the Lalafell could make it - he knew that much, even if a general onlooker might not - but a sword of this make was meant to bludgeon as much as to cut, so it had been a purposeful choice to stick to a sort of a happy medium of sharpness. Giving it too much of an edge would make the blade itself more brittle and prone to chipping or cracking during use, which would simply result in more frequent stops at a smithy for repairs in return for a mere handful of extra-potent attacks.
An Ul'dahn-born smith might have reveled in that idea - since more repairs would mean more business and thus more gil - but the Doman Lalafell had been raised differently. Back in the homeland, Gegenji-made equipment had always been lauded for its quality and its reliability, so it had been a crucial part of the boy's training to ensure he strove to maintain that standard. In fact, it was a common saying his father would recite to him during his lessons - that one's weapons and armor should not break before the user's own desire to fight. Combine that with Chachanji's own desire to not see someone hurt due to their equipment failing them, and one was left with probably the most customer-oriented and reputable smith that one could find in the Jewel.
The boy's prices didn't hurt either - having been around the same as the other smiths in the area, even if their skills were inferior to his. Zhara had quickly seen to correcting that, and even now the little Lalafell referenced a little cheat sheet of what the "new" prices for his services were. He was still holding it in one hand as he brought the greatsword back to the Elezen for the second time in less than a bell, the blade's forte resting against his shoulder as if he were its wielder instead of her. If one didn't immediately realize that the thing was several sizes too big for him and a gentle push would likely send him toppling over with it.
"Akay then," he piped up, eyes still glued to the parchment of adjusted prices. "Sharpenin's a five hundred gil thin'... so wit th' repair I 'spose tha' makes th' whole thin' 'bout... eight hundred?"
Chachan cast a brief glance in Zhara's direction, as if checking if she wanted to supply a second opinion. However, she was currently occupied - seeming to try and entice someone outside with the tasty prospect of cookies. Curiosity got the better of the little Lalafell and he leaned over a bit to try and get a better look, and ended up stumbling a couple steps when the weight of the great blade sought to follow suite. Fortunately, he managed to both catch himself... as well as a better look at who the mystery guest was.
"Ah! Virara! Hallo!"
An Ul'dahn-born smith might have reveled in that idea - since more repairs would mean more business and thus more gil - but the Doman Lalafell had been raised differently. Back in the homeland, Gegenji-made equipment had always been lauded for its quality and its reliability, so it had been a crucial part of the boy's training to ensure he strove to maintain that standard. In fact, it was a common saying his father would recite to him during his lessons - that one's weapons and armor should not break before the user's own desire to fight. Combine that with Chachanji's own desire to not see someone hurt due to their equipment failing them, and one was left with probably the most customer-oriented and reputable smith that one could find in the Jewel.
The boy's prices didn't hurt either - having been around the same as the other smiths in the area, even if their skills were inferior to his. Zhara had quickly seen to correcting that, and even now the little Lalafell referenced a little cheat sheet of what the "new" prices for his services were. He was still holding it in one hand as he brought the greatsword back to the Elezen for the second time in less than a bell, the blade's forte resting against his shoulder as if he were its wielder instead of her. If one didn't immediately realize that the thing was several sizes too big for him and a gentle push would likely send him toppling over with it.
"Akay then," he piped up, eyes still glued to the parchment of adjusted prices. "Sharpenin's a five hundred gil thin'... so wit th' repair I 'spose tha' makes th' whole thin' 'bout... eight hundred?"
Chachan cast a brief glance in Zhara's direction, as if checking if she wanted to supply a second opinion. However, she was currently occupied - seeming to try and entice someone outside with the tasty prospect of cookies. Curiosity got the better of the little Lalafell and he leaned over a bit to try and get a better look, and ended up stumbling a couple steps when the weight of the great blade sought to follow suite. Fortunately, he managed to both catch himself... as well as a better look at who the mystery guest was.
"Ah! Virara! Hallo!"
~