Despite the village’s small size, the spider-webbed, narrow streets make getting all the way across town—diagonally—to Smelt’ammer’s smithy take longer than you suspected it would. The heat of the day is starting to really get to you, and sweat is beginning to pour down yours and Artanis’s faces—especially carrying sixty-five pounds of armor, each. Fezzlidst Smelt’ammer welcomes you when you approach his shop—gold pieces seemingly sparkling in his eyes when, even from a distance, he sees you carrying two sets of rather severely debilitated armor. When you hand him the letter from Becklin, however, his smile grows even more.
“Welcoome! Welcoome! Let’s appraise tha wark yooll need tah doo.” He slaps Coltan on the back in a friendly, gesture and leads you in. “Ye, too, Ser K’nighit, Mez. . . . Ladeh,” he motions to Artanis and Mery. After assessing the damage, he informs you, Coltan, that for the two armor sets, it’s going to take seven weeks worth of work, or three and a half with his assistance.
He takes out an abacus and does some calculations, writing up a the numbers, explaining each one, and says, “Either way, et’s gonna cost ye 170 gold pieces to fex these two—thet’s whether Ah help or not. Encluded in that price is the cost of renting mee smethy—a selver a day fer five days a week, for seven weeks, OR payin’ meh to help you, whech is two selver a day fer half that time, but no rent, sence Ah’m helpin’--so et works out to the same 35 selver flat feh atop 1,665 selver.”
When Mery presents the rapier, he gives it a whistle and raises an eyebrow. “How’d ye let a quality sword such’a thes get sa dool’n rusteh? Tisk. Beau’ifol sword—1 selver’n Ah’ll have’er right oot.”
Bromdan is indeed too drunk to play right and actually passes out halfway through the game. You check his cards and he had no hope in hell of winning. Modri and Edgewin continue playing but as Modri lays down a 3-of-a-kind, Edgewin lays down a Full House, and wins.
Modri doesn’t see any shenanigans, just a bunch of drunkards having fun.