Dress for the job you want

ooc: Taking place in the public market, plz no trespass >_>

Big things were coming for Saracyn. The young wolf was on the precipice of his second birthday, only half a season away from becoming a full-fledged adult, and with his coming of age came a new slew of responsibilities—as a prince of Elysium, as a Mendacium male, and as his sister and future Matriarch's Defender. With his relationship with Avacyn solidly founded and planned, the red-furred prince knew exactly what his next steps would be. He would remain Defender of his twin, personal protector to the heir to the pack, until the day she took the position of Matriarch from their mother. Then he would become her Commander, her bodyguard and sworn hand to carry out her will within Elysium and throughout Boreas. With that, all eyes would be on the twins—on Avacyn as the leader of the pack, and on Saracyn as he enforced and defended her from their enemies, and Elysium had no shortage of those.

Such importance in his rank required Saracyn to be at the top of his game. He had already honed his skills to a mastery level and continued to keep them sharp on a daily basis. But an artist was also only as good as his tools, and while he did like his knives, they weren't exactly the intimidating tour de force he expected a Commander to wield. Sara remembered the wolf from the pack down south, the alpha with the sword who came to visit his parents on occasion. The tall, rugged dire wolf carrying a weapon capable of ending life in a single swing. Now that was a force to be reckoned with! Thanks to the recent alliance his mother had set up with the southern alpha, it was easy for Saracyn to make the trip down to the Hallows and barter a sword worthy of his station from the castle's king. The alpha had even shown him how to sharpen it and given him a whetstone. But for all his talents, the alpha hadn't been able to restore the blade to its full glory, lacking the expertise needed for this specific type of metal, some sort of special steel that seemed to ripple like water and was as black as midnight.

Thankfully, the alpha had pointed him in the direction of a blacksmith in the north. This particular wolf had apparently restored the alpha's similarly steeled sword in the past, and so Saracyn set off to find the blacksmith in the Armada. The adolescent Mendacium crossed into the Armada, following the guideposts to the public market he was told he could find the smith at. The market was expansive, built into a cave with plenty of room for merchants of all kinds to peddle their wares. Sara was interested in only one thing however. The sound of metal pounding metal caught his attention, and following it, he came upon a sizable workshop and forge manned by a large red wolf. Saracyn approached the smithy, gazing about at the metalwork he had on display before clearing his throat to get the man's attention. "Are you Ruga?" he asked the wolf at the forge, slipping the black scabbard carrying the Damascus steel sword off of his back and laying it out on the nearest workbench. "My name is Saracyn Mendacium. I was sent by Artorias of the Hallows. He told me you could mend and hone this sword for me."

"Saracyn Mendacium"