A little farther along the street, Owen spotted a weaponsmith’s shop with finely made swords displayed in its window, and he went straight for it.
It was smaller than the guild hall, but everything inside had been arranged with care. Finished weapons hung on racks along the walls, and from a workshop somewhere farther back came the steady ring of a hammer.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The air smelled faintly of hot metal and oil.
Owen went to a rack of swords and looked them over. The guards were shaped differently, the grips wrapped in different ways, and the blades varied in length and taper from one sword to the next.
A broad-shouldered man in a leather apron came out from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. "Can I help you, sir?"
"May I?" Owen asked, nodding at one of the swords.
"Go ahead."
Owen lifted it down carefully and tested its balance with a few small, controlled movements. He could summon a sword whenever he liked, but twelve years with ordinary blades had taught him to appreciate a well-made one.
This one sat differently in his hand from anything he was used to. The weight was farther forward than he expected.
"It’s balanced toward the point," he said. "What’s it made for?"
"Cutting from horseback, mostly," the smith said. "The weight out front gives you more bite on a cut when you’re moving fast. You lose a bit of speed in the recovery, but a rider doesn’t need to recover the way a man on foot does."
"Our cavalry carry something like it," Hugh said. "They hold up well. You’d want something lighter on foot, though."
"Exactly so," the smith said, looking at Hugh with new respect.
Owen put it back and looked over the others. "How does someone become a weaponsmith?"
The smith leaned against the counter. "Most start as apprentices. You work under someone who knows what they’re doing for years. You learn the metal, how to prepare it, how to make nails and hinges and ordinary tools before anyone trusts you with a blade." He shrugged. "After that, it’s practice, and judgment, and making enough mistakes to learn from them. You don’t make a sword someone can trust their life to until you’ve made a great many that weren’t good enough."
Owen found he respected that a great deal. He had spent years learning to use swords, but that was nothing like knowing how to make one.
On a stand near the counter, a training sword caught his eye. It was plain, unsharpened and beautifully made. When he picked it up, the balance was so good it felt almost alive in his hand.
He didn’t need it. But he wanted it.
"How much?"
"Two Gold Crowns, sir."
Owen paid from his own purse without hesitation. "Could you wrap it and have it delivered to our inn?"
"Of course."
When they stepped back out onto the street, Clara was grinning at him.
"We’ve hardly started shopping," Elise said, "and you’ve already bought another sword."
"It was a very good sword."
"You can make your own whenever you like."
"That’s different."
Elise didn’t seem convinced, but Owen didn’t mind in the least.
As the afternoon went on, they made their way toward the more expensive shopping district.
The streets grew cleaner and quieter here. Elegant shopfronts displayed clothing, jewellery, perfume and all sorts of costly things behind polished glass.
This was where the sisters came alive. They needed something fit to wear to the royal gathering, and their maid went with them from shop to shop, helping them look through what was on offer. Hugh’s men had recovered the sisters’ purse from the bandits’ camp along with the rest of their belongings, and they paid their own way.
In one shop, Clara fell in love with a gown in deep blue. Elise preferred one in pale green.
"The blue is far more striking," Clara said.
"It’s far more noticeable," Elise said. "That isn’t the same thing."
"Being noticed is the whole point of a ball."
"Being noticed for the right reasons is the point."
Clara turned to Owen. "My lord, tell her. The blue is better, isn’t it?"
Owen looked at both gowns honestly. "I prefer the green."
Clara stared at him as though he had betrayed her. Elise had to turn away to hide her laugh.
In the end, Clara took the blue anyway, Elise took the green, and both gowns were sent off for small alterations to be finished before the next day.
Owen wandered through a few shops of his own while they were busy. He bought a small leather case for his things and a set of fine writing paper, and he spent a while looking for something to bring home to his family.
As they passed a confectioner’s shop, he noticed neat little boxes of local sweets arranged in the window, wrapped in colored paper.
He thought of Agnes, stuck in her room at the inn because of the wounds she had taken for him.
He went in and bought a box.
The rest of the afternoon passed easily. They looked through a few more shops and stopped once for a cold drink, and by early evening they were all ready to head back.
Hugh gathered the escort and checked that every purchase had been accounted for, then walked Owen and the sisters back through the streets. The city was still busy around them. Shopkeepers were lighting their lamps, and the crowds were turning from shoppers to people heading home.
Owen was tired from all the walking, and his ribs had started aching again some time ago. But he had enjoyed himself thoroughly.
He thought about everything he had seen. The market, the guild, the weaponsmith, and all the businesses that made the capital so different from his family’s lands.
The guild stayed with him most of all. It had given him a much clearer picture of how awakened people lived when they didn’t join the military.
He had no intention of leaving his own path for it. But he was glad to know.
Evening had settled over the capital by the time they reached the inn.
Hugh went off to see to the soldiers and the purchases. Clara and Elise excused themselves to get ready for the ball.
"Thank you for today, my lord," Clara said. "I haven’t had so much fun in ages."
"We’ll see you at the gathering," Elise added.
"I’ll look for the green dress," Owen said, and Clara groaned while Elise smiled.
Before going up to his own suite, Owen knocked on Agnes’s door and waited until she answered.
She was resting in a chair by the window with her wounded shoulder properly supported on a cushion. She looked up when he came in.
"Young Master. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"I had a wonderful time." He told her about the market and the food, the Hunters’ Guild, and the weaponsmith’s shop.
"You bought another sword," Agnes said slowly, "when you can summon one whenever you want."
"I liked the way it was made."
She shook her head, though she was smiling.
Owen held out the box of sweets. "I brought you something."
Agnes blinked and took it carefully with her good hand. She looked at the colored paper, then at him. "For me?"
"You couldn’t come. I thought you might like something from the capital."
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she smiled, properly this time, and set the box on her lap with care.
"Thank you, Young Master. That was kind of you." She glanced up at him. "Did you buy anything for yourself? Other than the sword?"
"A few things. Nothing as interesting."
"Nothing as interesting as a sword you don’t need," Agnes said. "Of course not."
"How have your wounds been today?"
"I rested, as instructed," she said. "It helped. They’re still sore, but better than this morning." She looked at him. "And tomorrow, you’ll need to be properly dressed and ready for the ball. I hope you haven’t forgotten."
"I haven’t forgotten."
"Good. Then go and rest. Your ribs are hurting, aren’t they? You’re holding yourself the way you did in the carriage."
Owen didn’t bother denying it.
He went back to his suite and set his purchases aside. Outside, the sky had gone dark, and the streets below were beginning to glow with lamplight once more.
He had enjoyed his first full day in the capital far more than he had expected. There were still a great many places he wanted to see, but tomorrow would be something entirely different.
Princess Adelaide’s ball was tomorrow, and he would be there as the representative of House Ferrers. For the first time, he would meet members of the Imperial Family, and young nobles from territories he had never even visited.
He was genuinely looking forward to it.
Owen got ready for bed, satisfied with his day and curious about what tomorrow would bring.