Turns out the pack he was referring to was kind of like a simple, small leather backpack, so I was quite happy with it. When I inspected the inside, I also found a water canteen and a couple glass vials with red solution.
Percivil said that the red potions were for healing, and apparently, they don't expire for many years if kept sealed. He insisted that I could have them and the canteen with the backpack.
I don the backpack, attach the sheathed dagger to the back of my waist, and place the katana on my left hip. I'm feeling much more like an adventurer now!
I hand Percivil his gold coin, thank him for the fine service, and walk towards the door to leave.
As I go to open the door and leave, Percivil speaks out.
"Hey Mizuki, do you know how old dwarves live to be?" (Percivil)
Huh? I don't, but I was curious about that. Interpreting my silence, he continues.
"It's much longer than humans, about 500 years on average. I may not look it, but this old dwarf is pushing 400." (Percivil)
Damn, dude! That's even longer than I thought! Should I have been calling him 'sir' or something?
"About 300 years ago, when I was a young dwarf full of passion and recklessness, I had a habit of traveling around to improve my blacksmithing skills. I'm not exactly helpless, but I'm far from immune to the dangers of the world. Anyway, one day I got in over my head and found myself facing down the wrath of a minor fire dragon. When I thought I was about to be its dinner, this human flashed in out of nowhere and killed the thing with a single blow. The man saved my life. He was quite the odd one, yah see, and carried strange weapons I'd never seen before. A long, slender blade with slightly odd metal, which he called a katana, and another weapon of similar style that was shorter." (Percivil)
Ahh, so that's why katanas have been introduced into this world. That guy must have been a human transplant from a more advanced world. After 300 years or so the blacksmiths of this world can make katanas to some degree now, I guess. Maybe he didn't tell them what the shorter sword was for, and they made those too?
Still, why is it called a katana if he wasn't from Earth? Maybe this has to do with Azazel's weird auto-translation gift.
Percivil pauses his anecdote for a bit, and is staring at me intently, as if waiting for a reaction. Where's he going with this?
"Being what I am, I took a keen interest in his weapons. He explained to me that it was a weapon from his homeland, and he described how the metalwork involved repeatedly hammering the hot metal, folding it, and repeating this process to produce a blade of superior quality. As a parting gift, he gave me the shorter blade he carried. After all this time, I've never replicated that blade. Best I've been able to do is incorporate the superior metalworking he described into some other weapons, like the dagger I sold you." (Percivil)
Ah, that explains the strange look of the metal I was noticing. Why did he sell something to me that he can't reproduce then?
"Since I could never replicate the katana, I've never sold any. Thing is, I've never seen anyone else sell them, nor have I seen a single other person carrying such a weapon. I traveled all over Azura in search of the homeland he mentioned, hoping to learn about this mysterious weapon, and I never found such a place. In fact, in 300 years the only other time I've even heard the word 'katana' was when you muttered it earlier, before we even discussed it. I'm curious, Mizuki, how do you know about katanas?" (Percivil)
Crap crap crap crap crap. Percivil's glare has intensified, and the silence is deafening. I can't tell him the truth, though, it might put me in too much danger.
Would he even believe me if I told him? I know Azazel told species he transferred here about their situation, and I'm sure that knowledge spread across Azura over time, but the last species transplant was millennia ago.
As if sensing my hesitation, he steps a little closer and continues talking.
"There was one other thing about this man that I'll never forget – his eyes. Every human I've ever met has had brown eyes, but this man's eyes were a deep blue. I didn't notice at first, not until I saw yah up close, but yah have green eyes don't yah, Mizuki? After searching for that man's homeland all that time in vain, I began to think of the stories my mother used to tell me as a kid.
"Yah see, in the histories of Azura it's well known that the great god Azazel brought us to this world from beyond the stars countless millennia ago. I've wondered lately, could that man have been brought here alone from beyond the stars more recently? If so, it makes me sad to think about how lonely that kind man who saved my life must have been." (Percivil)
I can't breathe. The weight of his words is crushing, and it is crystal clear what he is asking as he looks at me with questioning eyes. He wants to know – am I like that man? Am I from another world?
It's also clear that he wants me to know that I can trust him. That, even if it's indirect repayment, he wants to help someone connected to the man who saved his life.
It sucks but, I don't know if I can trust him with something this big. Even if people accept it and don't jump to conclusions, it will make me an unprecedented center of attention. I can't see anything good coming of that for either of us. There has to be a reason all the other lone human transplants kept quiet, right?
Just when I think the stress of the decision will break me, Percivil's gaze softens, and he lets out a deep sigh.
"Well, anyway Mizuki, I just thought you'd find the history of that weapon interesting. So, I hope it serves you well and keeps you safe on your travels. Please do come back if there's anything I can help you with in the future." (Percivil)
As he says this, he returns to his normal smile. After, he turns around and walks into the back of the shop, and I can hear metal clanging again as I stand there with my thoughts still swimming. After a few minutes, I leave the shop and head towards the guild, feeling a little unsteady on my feet.