"Where are you going?" She asked, as I pulled my trousers on in the early morning gloom.

"Akerash's Hardware store."

She sat up, hair disheveled, bleary-eyed, and very cute. "Why? And you still haven't told me about the poncho and mark."

"You want the full story or just the main points?"

"Main points. If I'm still not happy, I'll have the full story."

"I went in yesterday to look at his gloves. A local gang with a level fifteen mage who liked fireballs came in to extort him. My coat got damaged in the crossfire, so Galin, the shopkeeper offered to mend it."

She groaned and let her head thumped back down into the pillow. "Urgh that coat. Just get a new one. Exactly the same if you insist!"

"We'll see how good the repair is."

"So what happened to the mage?"

"Killed him."

She sat up again, a troubled look on her face. "And the others?"

"Yep, killed them too. We got rid of all the bodies and I got a butcher trade in the mix."

Her eyes widened, somewhere between sickened and curious. "You have the Trade back! How did I not notice. Her face paled. "Ashack's eyes, Earl. How many people did you butcher?"

"Just five. I think I only leveled because Galin's a master Tradesman and he taught me a few things. I learned lots about chemicals that dissolve bodies. They're all neatly packed in barrels of slaked lime now."

I could feel her eyes boring into my back. "Is this going to come back and bite us, Earl?"

"Doubt it. Might be best if it did," I pulled the poncho on over my head.

She was up now, pulling her own clothes on with annoyed energy. "How! How would it help you maniac!"

"Kicking a few gang members in when we're going after Peralt. It adds to my rep, doesn't it?"

She didn't look convinced. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'll come with you and watch your back."

"Yeah. About that. I'm going to be at the shop for a while. My payment for helping him out was for him to teach me Leatherwork."

She turned slowly toward me, a look of mocking disbelief on her face. "You're going to learn Leather work?"

"Yep."

"Why? What about your budding career in Stone Masonry?"

"Yeah, that wasn't for me. At least with Leatherwork I can repair my gloves and coat."

She shook her head. "We're supposed to be planning how to take out Peralt and your wandering off for Leatherwork lessons. I feel like I've stepped into some kind of alternate universe right now."

"Can't see anything's changed. I'm just picking a skill up along the way."

"You can pay someone skilled to repair your gear! Earl, seriously. This was your idea to go after Peralt. "

"For fuck's sake, I'll be back in a few hours and we'll swat up on Peralt's setup then. "Warm the information up for me, eh?"

Then with my boots finally on I gave her a wave and hurried out of the house with a spring in my step.

"It makes no sense," I heard her call after me.

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I chuckled. If she knew why the real reason I was interested in leatherworking she'd had a fit.

The light was on in Galin's shop but the door was locked. I gave it a rattle, then I peered through a gap in the blinds. "Galin! It's Joren"

I heard footsteps, and the front door unlocked and swung open. Beyond was a battered dwarf with a sour expression.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"What do you think? I had a visit from the friends of our friends last night. They stole the goods they'd ordered anyway," he said backing into the shop to let me in. "I still honor the debt, but I wish I'd just given them the damn gear in the first place and be done with this."

I chewed my lip for a second as I thought. "Nah, they'd just keep coming back. Do they know how their friends died?"

"No. I told them they'd never been here and while I wouldn't say they believed me," he gestured at himself. "They also didn't think I could be responsible for their disappearance."

"Good, good. So who was the strongest of those who came?"

"Their boss. Dalgom. I mentioned him yesterday. He's a level 19 Warrior. Half Ogrid and a vicious bastard."

"Any more ascended?"

"Five of them. I didn't get all their levels, none below fourteen."

"I'm more interested in the upper limits," I said, punching my fist. "If the Half-Ogrid's the leader, then I doubt there's any above level nineteen."

He shrugged, depressed and disheartened.

"Come on. Show me some of your skills and then I'll go and have a word with this Dalgom."

"A word?" Galin asked.

"A word," I repeated. "Now let's get to work."

He sighed, but led me to a large heavy duty table at the back of the shop, Behind the table was a racking unit with countless rolls of leather all neatly stored.

"So Joren, what kind of things are you hoping to make in the future?"

I didn't need to think about it. "Gloves, mainly."

He nodded and pulled a roll. "For fighting I take it?"

"Exactly I grinned."

He slapped the roll-on the table. "How much Harmony do you have for applying runes?"

"I won't be adding any runes. I just want hardcore gloves. Durable as possible and if I can add material to add power, or effects, I'll add them."

Galin whistled. "Harmony that bad, huh?"

"Worse," I chuckled as he rolled out a scrap of leather.

"Well you won't be making gloves first time out. You need to practice some basics. Cutting and stitching. But I think I have just the idea."

"You do?"

"Hand wraps."

"So strips of leather? What skills can I learn from that?"

"As you have no skills, plenty. How about you just trust me, you know? Seeing as I'm the master Leatherworker you asked to train you."

It was valid point. "Teach away."

"Good. We're going to make reinforced leather hand wraps. He slapped the leather. This is Dara hide. It's soft, flexible and easier to work."

I ran my hand over it and flapped the corner up feeling how soft it was while Galin pulled a second, darker roll from the shelves.

"This is Anian hide." He plonked it down on top of the Dara hide.

"It's much tougher, more rigid, better for pieces that are going to take damage."

I felt that one as well. "Definitely better for punching people," I agreed.

He picked it back up and put it to one side. "Let's focus on the cutting first. We need long consistent cuts and to do that we need a ruler."

He pulled a six foot long, three inch wide metal strip from a tube fixed to the side of the table. Then he picked out some knives from the shelves along the side wall.

I watched as he went about his business with smooth efficiency and set to work trimming the first edge of leather away with a round bladed knife. He then handed the knife to me. "Make the strips the width of the ruler. Do the full roll at that consistent length.

I took the knife and got to work, finding it a little awkward at first. Mainly finding a body position that allowed me to cut smoothly, while still holding the ruler. I made a couple of mistakes, mainly not holding the ruler properly and I would have suggested clamps, but he was patient and told me not to worry each time. By the end of the roll, I was cutting smooth and clean.

He placed the thicker leather back on the table and removed a narrower ruler from the tube which he handed to me. "Alright. Now we want one strip of the Anian leather."

I set to work and found it much tougher going.

Galin was back and forth dealing with customers as we worked, but his teaching was calm, concise and easy to follow. Once I'd cut the leather, he brought a small bucket of sand and told push the knuckles of both hands into it. I did as he asked, reminiscing my child hood where I spent a half hour each day punching sand to toughen my knuckles up for fighting.

He wandered off with the bucket without explanation and left me rubbing wax into all of the leather strips to soften them, apart from one offcut of the Anian hide. When he returned he placed that offcut in a jug of steaming water.

"What's the water for?"

"It hardens the leather. I'll show you when we get to it. For now, let's mark out the wraps. Hold out your arm for me."

I obliged and he began wrapping the softer leather around my right forearm and around my hands. He marked out a thumb loop, and told me to hold the loose leather tight before marking out across my knuckles.

Finally he had me remove the wet leather and roll out the excess water with a rolling pin while he wandered off again. When he came back he was holding a dark brown disk which he laid on the table to reveal the imprint of my knuckles. He patted in then pointed to the strip of wet leather. Cut it in two and mold it over the model.

I was half way through the task when the front door opened. We both looked up together and Galin hissed as a midget Ogrid enter. And by midget I meant he was about seven and a half foot tall. And he wasn't alone.

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