Friendly smith

"Hello!"

Walking towards the front of the building, I shouted in a relatively calm voice. Loud enough to be heard, silent enough to not disturb the others. In just a few moments, one of the burly men who were busying themselves with pointlessly hitting the hammers against the long pieces of red-hot iron put his tools away before approaching the long table that separated the street from the open front of the building.

"How can I help you, sir? A sword? A dagger? Or maybe you need to repair some items of yours?"

Cleaning his hands with a random rag that hanged on the wall, the smith asked with a monotone voice. While my guess could be wrong here, I had a feeling that the words he used belonged to the category of sentences that all the retail workers had to be able to recite when woken at three in the morning.