Chaossis was not a city that he often visited, in fact he hardly ever left his home city of Eubocris. Today though was a special day for him, and the usually quiet and calm Maleos could not help the smile that was on his face as he walked the road into the city, his father and mother trailed slightly behind him, not quite able to keep up with the walking speed of an excited youth. Maleos had been saving every coin he had earned from doing work for friends of his father’s, and today his parents had been making a trip in to Chaossis and had promised him he could come and spend his money. Maleos knew exactly what he wanted, he had been dreaming of it since he was little. Or rather, he knew he wanted a real weapon, he hadn’t decided what kind of weapon he wanted exactly. He loved weapons in general, and he had made himself wooden versions of every single weapon he could think of, taking inspiration from what the Greek armies tended to use.
His hope was to be able to afford a Doru, mainly because he knew it was what would be used when he joined the military, so the more practice with it the better he would be when the time came for him to actually use one. Though if he could, he would have preferred a Kopis, because it was his favourite blade and he thought it would be more fun to have, and would be nicer to look at. His parents told him not to get his hopes up too much, that he might not have enough to buy exactly what he wanted, and he may have to settle for something that he could afford. He understood, but he couldn’t help but get his hopes up just a little bit.
His parents had some things to attend to in Chaossis, and so they had instructed the fifteen year old to stay to the market area, and when he was done, he was to wait for them by the gates. He was not to wander about and get himself lost or get in any trouble. Lucky for them, Maleos was an obedient boy, the same could not be said for all of this siblings, hence why he was the only one of their children who had been allowed to join them on their trip out of Eubocris that day while the others had to stay at home and watch their father’s pottery business.
He gave his parents a quick farewell, and confirmed the plans of where he was to meet them for what felt like the hundredth time before they went their separate ways. Young Maleos looked around, he didn’t even know where to start looking for a good weaponsmith. He had never purchased one, nor had his father, so he didn’t actually know the first thing about purchasing one. Yet, armed with determination and knowledge on weapons that he had acquired from various books, the fifteen year old set off into the market crowd. His brown-green eyes scanned the market stalls as he walked, taking his time to find the right one.
When he spotted the shine of metal in the bright summer sun, he practically ran through the crowd, luckily he was still skinny enough to weave through people with no problem. This was the place, that was for sure, various weapons were on display and the young boy stood there and stared at each one, carefully taking in every curve of the blade, every detail to the handles. He was lost in awe, seeing a real sword up this close, the reality of owning his own so close at hand, it made Maleos forget that he actually needed to speak with a shop owner about purchasing one. Instead he just stood there, staring at the various swords on display.
Market Day in Chaossis was not nearly as bad as during the off season, as many of the soldiers were away at their trainings high in the Kirakles mountains. That left plenty of time for Nifakis and Eudora to restock their wares as best as possible before the phalanx returned and the new recruits needed the tools of their trade.
Taking advantage of the slower day, Eudora took the time to hunt for supplies at the vendor stalls - bread, cheese, and other basics - as well as just to take her time away from the forge. From where she sat beneath the threaded canopy of the stall, she could hear the roaring of the forge through the doorway, hotter than the already overbearing sun that beat down on the paving stones around them.
That was not to say that sitting beneath the canopy was leisure. Instead, she found herself engrossed in the tedious task of binding the hilt of a long, thin knife with leather in a unique, delicately braided design. Every now and then, her father would let her do this to one of the smaller, more ornamental blades they created, knowing that the eventual purchaser would probably live upon a mantle or in a desk drawer rather than on a battlefield. It helped to pass the time on slower days like this, when the bronze was already polished to a gleam that would catch the attention of Apollo.
Engrossed in her design and her vision shrouded by her thick, course curls, it took her a short while to notice the young man who approached the stand. Her hands stilled on the sword, careful not to lose her place in the intricate woven design, but she watched as the sun reflected off the metal and into his eyes as he looked on the weapons. There were many young men her age who were fascinated by her parents profession, or actually, their products, and she took a small amount of pride in her knowledge of weaponry in comparison to those men.
It was not very becoming for her to correct them when they made errors about the kinds of blades and how they would use them in their imaginary battles, but then again, at this point in her young life, she had no interest in the attention of boys. They were crude, smelled strange, and tragically were all at least a half foot if not more shorter than her.
"You can touch them, you know," she said, smirking at him as he gawked, "Just don't go swinging them around. And don't hold onto the shiny end." Seeing that he was shocked out of his reverie, likely of dying on the battlefield in sand and blood, she couldn't help but laugh. Though she was only fourteen, she had seen this plenty of times before. Setting a ledger on top of the unfinished braid so as to hold the weave in place, she hopped down off her stool and leaned against the stall counter. "Do you like them curved or straight?"
Maleos stood there for a while, lost in his thoughts as he stared at the various metal blades, fresh and polished they gleamed so bright he could almost imagine that belonged to the Gods. In reality, it was the rose coloured glasses of a boy who had a major passion for all things combat, but to the fifteen year old at the moment, he had never seen anything more beautiful than the finely crafted weaponry on display in front of him. In fact, he had been so lost in his own world while staring at them that he had almost missed the voice that spoke to him. It took him a few seconds before the words registered and he realized that the young girl had been speaking to him.
He looked up, his face the definition of unimpressed, he fumbled to find his words. He was not used to speaking with anyone other than his family, and definitely not used to speaking with someone who seemed to think he was dumb enough to grab a sword by the blade.
“I know how to hold a sword.” He managed to say, his face turning a slight red. Maleos had never been great with people, and he found himself wishing that he had asked his father to come with him to the weapon stall so he could do the talking. Being a potter, his father knew how to talk to people, how to be charismatic and sell his wares. Maleos knew how to haul the clay and heavy finished pottery around for his father, and haul wood in for his kiln. He was good with his strength, he was not very good with his words.
Yet he was already there, alone, and he wasn’t going to just leave empty handed. He had been dreaming of owning his own weapon since he was old enough to know what a weapon was. He had noticed their wares consisted of mostly blades, so he supposed getting a spear was out of the question unless he decided to go somewhere else. The practical side of him knew that he should probably go look for a spear, it would be his main weapon when he joined the military, at least until he was a higher rank. The other half of him though, wanted a sword more than anything.
He internally debated for a moment, and he decided to indulge himself. He had worked hard to earn the money that he had, so he wanted to buy something that he really wanted, even if it wasn’t the most practical of weapons to start with. He still had his homemade spear to practice with, and when he joined the military he would be able to train with a real one.
“I prefer a Xiphos, if you have any with a midrib that would be even better.” He said simply, she talked to him as if she didn’t think he knew anything about weapons. Perhaps it was because he was young, but she seemed to be around his age so it didn’t make much sense if that was the reason. He wondered if they had a lot of people come by to look at weapons who held no knowledge on the topic. He supposed it was entirely possible. He had heard of rich people and nobility having weapons that were purchased only for display purposes. He couldn’t imagine having that kind of money, or why one would spend the money on a weapon if it was not going to be used.
“What material are your hilts made of?” He asked, having a preference. He wanted to see if she knew, but mostly he wanted to see if they had the material he was looking for. He wasn’t sure how picky he could afford to be, and he really didn’t want to return home without a sword, but he didn’t want to spend his hard earned money on something that he wasn’t happy with or didn’t feel right for him to use.
“I should introduce myself. I am Maleos, of Eubocris.” He said, suddenly realizing he was being fairly rude by not actually introducing himself to her. He looked around a little and wondered where her parents were, not having seen anyone else at the market stall aside from her.
A slight grin, peppered with unwarranted smugness could not resist cutting through Leto's features as she watched the boy's expression falter at her words. It was not the first time a blunt word or two garnered her that look, but all it did was amuse her. Particularly when none of the young men she knew in Chaossis were the kinds to even stop by her stall except to fantasize about weapons they could not afford. This boy was unfamiliar with his curly hair and slight pout, probably just passing through like many others on market day. Still, Leto had yet to recognize the arrogance she could have when it came to weaponry, despite her age and gender.
"I meant nothing by it, just teasing some," she replied, half-heartedly backtracking her words. After all, while she assumed this boy might not be here to buy a weapon, he could be some sort of prince in disguise, like the stories of wild fantasy she read at night. Somehow, by his response, she doubted that significantly but the gods have pulled crazier tricks on mortals in the past.
"A xiphos? My father makes most of them of iron now, but we do have some made of bronze as well," she stated, stepping back a bit to look at the sideways crates with sheathed swords layered in them in particular orders. Usually, her mother or father handled these sorts of exchanges but with both of them preoccupied, she supposed she could handle this well enough. Her long, spindly fingers darted along the pommels as if trying to read them via touch. Her eyes kept skimming over the swords as he spoke, occasionally tucking one into the crook of her arm to lay on the counter.
"Iron or bronze as well, though some of the more ornamental ones use bone or leather bindings, like this one,"[b/] she stated, laying out four of the weapons at an angle on the counter and tapping it with her finger, "I believe those are mostly for looks, though."
Leto's round blue eyes watched his face as he looked over the offerings, noting the true, steadfast excitement in his eyes. He really wanted one of these, to be sure. It almost startled her a moment when he offered his name.
"Leto, daughter of Nifakis and Eudora of Chaossis," she replied, tilting her head over her shoulder, "My mother usually handles the business affairs but isn't here right now, and my father does not usually like to be disturbed at the forge."
He ignored her half-hearted apology, preferring to put that part of the conversation behind them. He wasn't great with words to start with, the last thing he needed was to accidentally anger or offend her. The young boy was still fairly nervous when it came to dealing with people, he let his father sell the pottery, he tended to just load and offload materials and finished work. He was better at labour than he was at speaking.
He looked at the swords as she spoke and laid them out for him. "I am not looking for ornamental, I prefer to use them. I need something sturdy, that will last me." He explained, picking up one of the swords she had lain out, the weapon was full iron, plain but deadly looking, it lacked all the ridiculous decoration that some of the others held. A good sword for a wannabe soldier. He held it in his hand, careful not to have the blade any where near a member of the public. He closed his eyes and felt the weight and balance, the touch of the grip in his hand was cool, and it felt like the sword was made specifically for him. He felt his heart swell, the sword already feeling a part of him.
His eyes opened once more, the green in them seemed to be even brighter with excitement as he realized this was the sword he had been dreaming of, he needed to have it, needed to take it home and swing it and feel free, as he always did when he got lost in his pretend combat with the wood and straw dummy he had made.
He was brought back to reality as he realized he wasn't sure he could afford it. Perhaps he was not being realistic in his wish, he had not even bothered to think of the price. He cleared his throat a little, realizing she might think his actions odd. He set the sword back on the table and pulled out his little leather pouch that contained all the money he had saved in the world. He looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the girl.
"How much for this one?" He would ask, trying not to sound too hopeful in case she quoted him a price that he could not afford. He had come there with the intentions of being realistic, but once he had gotten his hands on the sword, that had all flown right out of his head and he could think of nothing more than how badly he needed to take the weapon home.
He hoped that Leto would not mock his excitement, and he tried to tone it down as well. It was very unlike him to get like this about anything, his parents would be shocked if they saw him with such a smile on his face as he had when the sword had been in his hands.