Hector's brows lift in surprise. How could someone who's so interested in knives have no-, wait. Sighing, he kneads his temple, marveling at his own foolishness. He's spent countless candlelit hours picking through texts devoted to the sword, countless hours sparring with them and crafting them, and even months after being rudely plucked from his homeland, he sometimes forgets that such knowledge is uncommon outside his time.

Thinking back to the weapons in his current collection, he says, "Aye, there are. The zweihander, for instance, a sword as long as some men are tall. 'Tis mostly for ceremonial purposes, but I assure you it can still wreak terrible havoc if in the right hands."