The North God"A what? A nimoo? Uhh, there are some farms I think 50 kilometres west of here, I guess?"
Micaiah brought her arm out towards the east to direct the woman with the swords. Wait, swords? In this day and age, it's not like they were uncommon, but it definitely was a statement to have multiple on you. Micaiah would know, as she'd sometimes be in the same boat. Though, normally, it would just be Beni-asi-hashi in its scabbard, in all its ornamental glory, hanging on her hip."Hey, you got a nice coupla' weapons on ya'. Hey, Yug, check this girl out."
Micaiah turned to her dark skinned, midget companion, pointing over to Izalith with her thumb, a "get a load-a this gal"
sorta motion."I got more than a few swords myself, but it's waaaay too much of a hassle to just carry them all on me at once. In fact, I'm out here looking for a new sword myself!"
It was not the same sword that Izalith sought. Well, it was the same legend, just not the same sword. Similarly, Micaiah came all the way from America, following a trail that lead her to British soil. Some king from a long time ago had a crazy sword, and old paper trails mentioned the Zefc guy being here.
Whether this was reliable information was irrelevant, because the story of the King with the Sword was definitely true. She asked Maujuda about it, and was assured that even if the "story" was a fabrication, anything shared that much for that long a period of time would assuredly manifest as some sort of entity at some point, whether it be a Danava or otherwise. So even if the Zefc lead was a bust, this was still some guaranteed fun.
Deveta knows Micaiah would never be able to leave alone a live treasure hunt of some old fable.