What's this? Brought me a shield, have ye? With materia? Impressive, but don't imagine a bit o' materia's enough to make up for shoddy workmanship. I ain't the kind to be blinded by sparklies, lad! Now, let's have a closer look...
...'Tis when they make the step up from bronze to iron that the weaker craftsmen start to show their limitations. The metal bein' a damn sight harder to shape, all manner o' flaws creep into their work.
But there ain't a single bleedin' one in this shield. Yer hammer blows were steady an' measured.
An' ye've kept the thickness o' the iron nice an' even, too. No bugger wants his shield splittin' in half 'cause the armorer beat a bit o' the plate too thin. A fine piece o' work, this. Damn fine.
That's twice ye've passed me inspection now. I'm convinced. Ye've the kind o' skill as demands respect, lad.
So, as one artisan to another, let me ask ye a question: what are yer thoughts on H'naanza's handlin' o' the guild? I know ye ain't been with us for long, but ye must've wondered what she was playin' at, am I right?
If ye ask me, the soft-hearted wench is pollutin' the damn place with blunderin' amateurs what are armorers in naught but name.
An armorer crafts gear as keeps men alive. If ye lack the skill or the experience to make armor as'll do that job, ye've no business holdin' a hammer.
Just imagine what'd happen if a breastplate made by one o' them lackwits fell apart in battle. An' not just to the poor bastard wearin' it, neither─I'm talkin' about what'd become o' the guild's good name.
The way H'naanza entrusts these novices with a real craftsman's work...she's spittin' in the face o' the Builder!
Only a tried an' true armorer should be takin' on orders an' dealin' with valued patrons.
By refusin' to get rid o' the dregs, H'naanza's dampenin' the flames in our forges. “Forgemaster,” my arse... How can she be so bloody blind!?