'Depends on the quality, 'n' the blade you plan on buyin'.' The man shifts his weight, straightening his back, his shoulders broad on his frame. 'The best ore can run as high as a pound of gold, but yer need to climb high for that. Look for the red stone, it'll look flecked. Cold to the touch--sucks in all the heat on itself. Breaks off easy, with a good smack.'

He sweeps out his hands. 'Yer bring it back, I'll judge the quality. A good ore makes good business for a blacksmith.'

Tidus folds his arms. "Packing it away won't be a problem. A few pounds isn't much."

At least to gather.