[ WP ] A sketchy salesman attempts to sell a perfectly normal sword to the hero , passing it off as the sword of legends .

`` Now, remember: you should n't be disappointed if none of these weapons attune to you yet.'' 
 
 The boy nodded, clearly paying little attention. 
 
 `` These are our most powerful magic items. Many of them draw their power from ancient magic, with a kind of sentience of their own. They do n't respond to anything except the touch of the most seasoned warriors - and if they are n't willing, you'll barely be able to lift them. Normally I would n't even show you this collection, but you were so excited...'' 
 
 The salesman trailed off, content to watch the bright, hungry look in the boy's eyes as he walked through rows of swords, axes, mauls and assorted polearms. He'd just set off from his little village, was still right at the beginning of his journey. The boy stopped now at a faintly glowing halberd, his eyes twinkling in the iridescent light. 
 
 `` Can I try taking this one off the rack?'' 
 
 `` Go ahead.'' 
 
 He tried; eventually he was gave up, hands sore. The weapon had not moved. 
 
 `` As I said, there's no need to be disappointed -'' 
 
 `` I know. Can I keep looking at some more?'' 
 
 ``... If you'd like to, though I really should n't let you stay back here for very long.'' 
 
 The salesman could n't help it; the boy reminded him far too much of his own ambitious youth. He was now closely considering a sword and shield hanging from the wall, likely lost in visions of dragonslaying. He tried to pull down the sword: it did n't budge. Neither did the golden trident-and-net combo further down the aisle. After trying his luck with a few brightly-colored longswords the boy started setting his sights on some of the less flashy targets, but the rusty, pockmarked mace lying forgotten in the corner proved too stubborn for his grip as well. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, but I need to get back to the front of the shop now. I'm sure once you've gotten a few adventures under your belt these items will be much more enthusiastic to see you.'' 
 
 The boy nodded again weakly, glum and defeated. His mind was once again elsewhere, but this time the salesman felt no satisfaction watching him as he trudged to the exit. He felt fairly deflated as well. Perhaps he'd identified himself too closely with this overconfident young lad, and now felt a sharp pang of sympathy pain. 
 
 They walked out of the back room towards the front of the store, where the non-magical weapons stood arrayed on simple wooden racks. The boy thanked the salesman and was about to walk out of the store when the man called him back, hesitating briefly. 
 
 `` There is... one weapon you might want to try. You see that one over there?'' 
 
 He pointed at a sword. Steel, standard height and weight, leather grip. No magic whatsoever, but how would the child know that? 
 
 `` It's a sword of some note, actually. Been passed down for a few generations, and they say it's remarkably welcoming to newcomers - well, to some newcomers. It has greater powers that are locked away until the wielder gains experience, but it can sense potential, and will allow itself to be carried by any who it thinks can become powerful some day.'' 
 
 The light shone in the boy's eyes again as he darted forward to try the sword. Sure enough, he yanked it off the display easily - so easily he fell backwards, catching himself just in time to avoid being skewered on a nearby glaive. 
 
 `` Can-I-buy-this-one?'' the boy asked, his words rushing together. 
 
 `` Of course,'' replied the salesman. This was far from his most ethical business decision, but how could he disappoint his own eager young eyes staring out at him from this boy's face?
