Zingggg! - a short story -

Nicalos pushed the whetstone up, letting his blade sing as the miniscule pieces of iron were swept from the sides of his weapon. This almost automated ritual brought him to an meditating state.

“Shop, check.” - Zinggggg. “Stock, check.” - Zinggggg. “Guards, check.” - Zinggggg. “Certain citizens compensated, check...” - Zinggggg. He stopped abruptly. “Dear light, I need fireworks!” he said with a raised voice.

Nicalos held his blade up and inspected it with the up most concentration. He smiled and placed the blade in the sheath on his back. He pulled it up a few times to convince himself that the blade could be pulled out with the up most ease. Nicalos got up from the edge of the canal, turned around facing the location that he would soon use as his store, and looked at the building for a moment. He then crossed the bridge, and vanished within the masses of the Trade District.