"I have a knife."
You hold out the dagger. You feel a flicker of irritation come from the blade, but you ignore it.
The Bridge Maker gives a low whistle. "That's a dangerous thing you've got there," he says. He gingerly takes the hilt with two fingers, examining it the way one does a dead animal. "You haven't been feeding it, have you?"
"Not much," you say, thinking back to the two men who had claimed to be your father.
"Good," he says. "Things like this shouldn't be encouraged." He sighs. "Fine. I'll give your name back. Wait here a moment."
"You have to pick which one it is."
"What do you mean?"
He doesn't answer you. Instead, he goes inside the cottage. You wonder for a moment if you're supposed to follow him, but he returns before you muster up the will to do so. In his hands is a wooden box.
"Here," he says, holding the box open.
Inside are several polished stones, each glowing faintly. You lean in close and see that it's not that the light is coming from the rocks themselves, but rather that each stone is inscribed with tiny script, and it's the words written on them that are glowing.
"These are all the names I've gathered over the years," says the Bridge Builder. "None of them are perfect, but I've saved them all the same. Tell me which one's yours."
-->[Pick the Purple Stone]
-->[Pick the Gold Stone]