[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Safe in her workshop, Aurelie slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead in dismay as she read the underboss' short note and inspected the pen knife he sent back. As he suspected, the blade had indeed come loose and was rattling about inside its cap, and it also showed chips and glints at the tip. Holding the letter in her hand, she fumed at it as if it were the underboss himself—never mind that she'd never dare to yell these things in his face if he were really there.

"What in Arceus' name were you doing with this knife?" the red-haired smith grumbled, shaking her fist at the blameless piece of paper. "How did you manage to damage the knife already? Were you using it to chop wood? Slash blocks of solid ice? Bash through bone..."

Her voice trailed off abruptly at that last thought. The man was a Rocket underboss, after all. Still, she rather doubted he actually did work in a butcher's shop where he'd be regularly cutting into heavy-duty bones that would do this kind of damage, rather than the relatively lighter, thinner bones like the ones in a person's hands or feet. No, she just suspected he'd been a little too forceful, or eager, as he'd put it himself.

Nevertheless, Aurelie shook her head reproachfully. "You should know better, all the same," she said to the letter, less heatedly but still sounding very disappointed. Putting her hands on her hips, she added wryly, "And honestly, so should I."

Everything made for Rocket, even the things that look like mere charming adornments—especially the things that look like charming adornments—needed to be made extra sturdy. The red-haired smith sternly told herself to remember that. Things that rattled loose, things that snapped or broke, had no place in Rocket.

With a sigh, Aurelie set to work repairing and reinforcing the pen knife, since she was not about to craft a new replacement the way she had with the dive knife.

She did forge a new blade for the knife, though, out of a tougher, more durable alloy than she'd used the first time so the edge wouldn't chip or roll so easily. If the pen ended up heavier because of it, well, it'd just make it seem fancier and more expensive, hopefully. The red-haired smith added a line of serrations to the edge, so it could be handy for sawing through—well, whatever the underboss wanted to saw through. Probably skin, she thought with a shudder, before mentally chuckling, but maybe clothing, if he uses this for seducing instead of murdering.



This time, Aurelie also took care to add extra mechanical connections to hold the tiny blade in place: not just a single pin like she'd used earlier, but three this time, to hold the tiny "tang" in place. She also used the highest-strength epoxy she could get her hands on, which advertised a stunning tensile strength of 100,000 PSI, and slathered it liberally within the pen. The epoxy took over 24 hours to cure, far longer than the five-minute epoxy she normally used, but she wanted to be sure this time.

When it was all done, Aurelie even decided to conduct some cautious field testing before sending it back to the underboss. She stabbed the small knife through the skin of a watermelon, before snacking on the juicy fruit, and whacked it against the edge of her worktable. To her immense relief, the construction all stayed solid and tight this time, as far as she could tell. Hopefully, that's enough for Mr. Destructive over here, the red-haired smith thought sardonically.

"Do better," she told the knife mock-sternly as she packaged it up. Then Aurelie glanced at the letter and smirked a little. "And you...do, well, gentler, I guess? If that's possible."

She wrote in the note that accompanied the reinforced pen knife simply:

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

[attr="class","main"]

You assume I carry only one knife?[break][break]

Cillian smiles at the letter, shaking his head at it as if gently chiding its writer.[break][break]

In truth, Cillian had no less than three knives on him at any point in time — four, now, with the addition of the unassuming pen. It feels heavier than he remembers, but the weight feels good in his hand as he uncaps it and inspects the new blade.[break][break]

Sliding it into the front pocket of his shirt, it's welcomed back into the collection.[break][break]

And, sure enough, it cuts through fabric with satisfying ease the next time he corners Tempest Quinn in the bedroom, holding the knife to his neck with a wolfish smile. He hadn't told Temp about this new knife, waiting until precisely this moment to spring his trap.[break][break]

"Careful, love," he purrs, as the serrated edge gently dimples the side of Temp's throat. "It's very sharp."[break][break]

A warning, a promise.[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]"Of pleasure", eh?

Involuntarily, Aurelie's lips curled into a smirk as she read the letter and started contemplating exactly what pleasurable uses the underboss had managed to find for her pen knife. It took a good few minutes before she finally managed to rein in her imagination. Nothing good comes from thinking prurient thoughts about Rocket leaders, she told herself sternly, even the handsome ones.

As long as the customer was happy, that was the most important thing. Other thoughts could...come later.

Finally, the red-haired smith got to work on what she remembered being the last remaining orders of the underboss' commission: the butcher knife and meat cleaver he asked for in addition to the chef's knife she'd made first.

At first, Aurelie thought long and hard about making both knives from beautiful pattern-welded blades with a visually striking Damascus, just like the chef's knife. The idea pleased her in its symmetry and synchronicity, making him a matching set. Yet, in the end, practicality eventually won out. Though she had no idea what he was planning to cook or butcher, the underboss clearly lived a brutal day-to-day life. That meant he'd need equally brutal knives to keep up with him.

For that, the red-haired smith chose the mono-steel route—specifically, 5160 high-carbon spring steel, the alloy that she'd told Isaac Merlo was used in a sword that could decapitate a Tauros in a single strike. While Aurelie didn't know if that was really true, or just a legend, the alloy itself was strong, durable, and hardenable enough that she could almost believe it. Either way, 5160 steel seemed like the perfect choice for whatever flesh or bone the underboss wanted to split, chop, and cleave.

To create the unique rectangular silhouette of the classic cleaver knife, she not only hammered but also ground the steel into shape so that the edges were straight and square on the short, broad, heavy-duty blade. It ended up about eight inches long, on the larger side for a cleaver. After an uneventful heat treatment and tempering process, she gave it a thicker, tougher edge than she normally would for a kitchen knife. After all, the weight and momentum of the knife were what would get it through meat, bone, and cartilage, not its sharpness.

Aurelie bored a small hole in the far corner of the blade too. Supposedly, the hole helped keep the blade from getting stuck in dense meat or bone. With the sturdy wooden handle she added, with enough width to keep it from flying out of the user's hand, the overall cleaver looked almost like a small axe.



In contrast, the design of the butcher's knife looked almost like a small machete. It featured a long, wide blade that measured about 12 inches, with an elegant curving edge and tip designed to easily slice and trim raw meat. Aurelie took especial care with the heat treatment and quenching of this knife to ensure it was rigid enough to ensure a straight, precise cut, but also flexible enough to not shatter on impact with hard bones, ligaments, or skin.

For this knife, she absolutely gave it a razor-sharp edge. The knife would need to carve through anything from roasts to steak or raw meat, without hesitation or waste. She gave it a polished rosewood handle and worked hard to make the handle ergonomic and comfortable, so the underboss could use as firm a grip as needed without needing to worry about the knife slipping from his grasp.



Aurelie sighed in relief when both knives were done. For the last month or longer, she felt as though she'd been churning out knives for the underboss. And while they had been a pleasure to work on, and few customers had ever been as patient and understanding as he was, the commission overall had proven a tall one even for her. The sheer variety of knives and the high standard of quality she'd applied to all of them—it had translated into a lot of long, difficult, hot days in her workshop to get them perfect and finished.

She sent these to the underboss with a brief note:

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

[attr="class","main"]

With the final pieces of a rapidly-growing collection delivered, Cillian is satisfied.[break][break]

Though he was still at work on the creation of his Type: Null, and those knives might certainly serve a darker purpose in such pursuit, there were more mundane uses for which he might employ them also.[break][break]

When his father-in-law, Tulio, visits the beachside home for dinner on one of the hottest days of the year, the underboss selects the finest cuts of meat to be set on the barbecue. A rack of ribs splits with ease under the cleaver's weight.[break][break]

He is sure to mention, as meat crackles on the grill and he wipes down the blade, where he'd purchased the premium tool.[break][break]

"Lovely and patient woman, that Aurelie Lefevre."[break][break]

He shoots a knowing look at Tempest Quinn, who'd been told all about the various commissions and exchanges between the two. Including, to the sound of Cillian's laughter, how he'd informed her of his less aggressive purpose for the pen knife.[break][break]

Sitting by the pool, with his feet dipped in the cool water and a cocktail in his other hand, he uses that same pen to write his final letter.[break][break]

[break][break]

And at last, she could rest assured knowing he was satisfied, and none of the killing implements she'd forged for him would be used against her.

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Aurelie read the underboss' letter with a sigh of relief and a warm flush of pride, feeling especially glad to have satisfied this particular customer so well. Of course, the red-haired smith always worked hard to make sure all her custom commissions were made well and on time. She wouldn't stay in business for long if she didn't. But still, this commission...

Admit it, it's kind of cool thinking that the underboss might be walking around now carrying at least a couple of your knives with him wherever he goes, she thought. Not to mention being his new go-to source for new knives. Especially when he's got the mindset of "never too many knives."

It was refreshing, too, to know that this underboss still saw a use in using knives and blades, even while being the avatar of a Legendary Pokemon. Aurelie had always assumed that such powerful individuals would probably find ordinary weapons utterly below them. Both she and her pocketbook had never been happier to be proven wrong.

For his payment had been just as generous as he'd promised—enough to keep her business afloat, for sure, and pay for many of the miscellaneous costs of being a blacksmith. Deliveries for new tanks of propane, a taller metal tank for quenching, fresh belts for the grinders, replacement dies for her beloved power hammer, and an exotic array of expensive wood and high-tech polymers for handle materials were scheduled for the next several weeks. Aurelie rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

The red-haired smith smiled as she reread the letter, savoring again the succinct words of praise. Then she reached for a pen to write back, tapping it meditatively against her lips as she considered her response to his promise of recommendations:

Finally, she wrote:

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT