The Corps's Headquarters

Nixon gave a good thought to the question before replying.

"For the knives, 20 will be good. As to the scalpels... this might be a constant order... 30 for now. It's very likely we might come back to order more, as we're always in short supply of those things..."

"The next part is payment. Any preferred method you have of being paid?"

Winters had just entered as the smith spoke, and Randleman saluted him; Nixon was busy with the process of payment, and so Winters simply nodded, to which Nixon returned. Upon hearing the direct payment, Winters nodded to Randleman, who left, and then returned, carrying a small stack of bills. Nixon took the bills, and then offered it to the smith.

"Consider this as payment for the current cutlery, as well as a deposit on the larger order as a sign of our credit and good-will," Nixon said to the smith, smiling, holding the stack of notes to the smith; 10,000 valors in all.

Taminah worked at a good pace to create her order. Her forge burned with arcane fires and unusual noises, as she worked her unique skill and magic to create her weapons of quality.

When the day finally arrived, she returned to the PMC headquarters carrying a couple of custom made metal boxes- she had a thing for presentation, and the latch-locked boxes were surely fine souvenirs to enhance her name.

She awaited her customers once more in the lobby.

Taminah at once stood up at the sight of Lt. Nixon. She was slightly nervous, despite having taken time after work to rest. She looked away from his customer as she spoke, still a bit uncomfortable with eye contact and being socially awkward in general.

"Um... yes... I uh... Your order..." She stammered a bit, before simply making herself present them. She opened the latches and presented the products- any knife nut would likely have a visual orgasm at Taminah's simple yet highly artistic work.

There was the Twenty matching combat daggers carefully arranged in the box. The weapons deceptively appeared to be no more than pointed bars of grey-black metal, in special, thin sheathes. Taminah took one out with both hands, careful with even her own product.

"So... I decided to add a few safety features, as well as making the knives look like they were made in this city. The sheathes all have simple yet strong magnetic locks to avoid having them pull out by people who don't know how the weapon works... or fall out." She demonstrated how hard it was to pull out, initially. Then she pressed a button and the knife slid out effortlessly. She placed it back into its sheathe and into the box.

"...They're also balanced for throwing... if you're into that..." Each knife sheathe and handle carried a small manufacturer's mark, the Ironfeld crest.

She grabbed a sheet of scrap iron, and demonstrated her knife. Sure enough, the weapon pierced right through the inch of metal- if only halfway considering Taminah didn't seem to have that much arm strength. In the hands of a proficient knife fighter, one could imagine the damage it could do.

"The scalpels are here too, and uh... that's about it. I... understand you guys are medics? I just hope you'll... use those to help people... even if it means... cutting people... um... yeah..." Taminah simply shut herself up from there, still a bit unsure of herself. She wanted to pursue her craft for peaceful means, but here she was arming yet another group with her deadly products.

"Oh... and if you want the knives personalized with names, I can do that too, free of charge... as easy as writing to me."