Thane sat on the bed, his eyes still glued to the opened safe, the pain in his cheek pulsing. Max hit pretty hard despite carrying a dainty frame.
"I have no idea what to do with all these riches," Thane said, his voice low with brief worry.
Max waved his hand. "Give it to your dad?"
Thane hissed. "Why would I? This is my money."
"Fair enough, it's your money." Max nodded in amusement.
Both teens stayed in the room silently, no one spoke, just a strange quietness that, surprisingly, both enjoyed.
Thane then broke it. "How much is that? Tell me one last time in very simple words, Max."
Max let out a big warm sigh, scratched his chin, and dived into deliberation. "What's the cost of a sword? The one made by the Ironforge clan."
"I don't know," Thane said with a poker face. He was slightly embarrassed now. His pride as a blacksmith was hit by his own naivety. "Pops does the business, we just make them."
