This is definitely not the time to joke about getting it from Matilda’s forge.
“It was a gift from a close friend of my mother’s,” you reply. “A smith. They got hired to make weapons for some greblings looking to make a settlement in the desert, but this one turned out too big for any of them to use. So, they sent it to us. My mother’s sword arm had been badly wounded by then, so she gave it to me.”
“Hmm,” the smith mutters. “Yes, that makes sense. If it was originally meant for greblings, that explains the hilt. It’s clearly designed for smaller hands. And the blade’s curved like that to make it lighter. Probably a first attempt before they settled on the length.”
Maybe she’s just trying to get a sense of your character by asking an unrelated question – it’s a trick you’ve used more than a few times. But you don’t think that’s the whole story. You feel as though she recognizes the blade – or something about it, at least.
Well, she’s a smith herself. Maybe she knows your mother’s friend. Or knows them by reputation, at least.
You’d ask directly, but you’re not sure Mother ever told you their name. If she did, it didn’t stand out.
But she did tell you another name, didn’t she?
You sheathe the sword, and hold up the scabbard to make your next point.
“If you’re wondering, the design on the scabbard is the sword’s name.”
“Really!” the smith exclaims. “Ah, in what language?”
Hmm. An interesting reaction.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’d recognize it if I tell you the name itself?”