Arron remained, dumbfounded. Could an NPC walk away like that? Was that a thing?

“Hey!” Arron called, following the man. “Hey, what gives, Smith?”

Smith rounded on him, a finger inches from Arron’s nose.

“‘Smith,’ is it? Are you saying Smith me name or smith me profession? Do you know me well enough to use me name? Do you have me respect enough to be a customer?”

The intensity in the man’s gaze was shocking, making Arron step back a pace.

“You Leveled past the quest I gave you, leaving me with a handful of hot steel, I might add. Do ya know what I can do with burned steel? Do ya? No. No, ya don’t. Cost me a week’s supply, ya did. And now, I’m not required to give ya the quest again. So, piss off.”

Turning back around, Smith snatched up a pair of tongs and pulled a glowing rod from the furnace, laying into it with more force than Arron guessed was strictly necessary.

Realization dawned through the rhythmic ringing of the anvil. The blacksmith quest when he first arrived! Apparently, not completing the quest came with consequences. How was he supposed to know the blacksmith was counting on him?

He frowned and vaguely remembered that the smith had told him so.

“Ya go and get my apprentice, and I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll be in a right bit of trouble otherwise,” Smith had said with a smile.

Arron had simply nodded, confused, walking away with no intention of seeking out this stranger’s lost employee.

Crap.

With a heavy sigh, Arron forced himself to consider the possibility he’d screwed the guy over rather than just brush it off as not his fault.

Arron had never been one to run from something just because it was uncomfortable. He was responsible here.

Decision made, he walked around the other side of the anvil.

“Smith, I owe you an apology,” Arron started. “I didn’t realize, but that doesn’t excuse my actions.” Pulling out his four silvers, Arron set them on the anvil. “This is the little money I have. I have some loot and such, and you’re welcome to that as well.”

Smith stopped hammering when Arron set the coins on the anvil. Standing motionless, he stared at the small silver pieces. After several tense seconds, he took the coins. Moving across the room, he dropped them into a kiln, where they started to melt.

“It doesn’t cover my losses, I’ll have you know, but I can appreciate the gesture. And I’m not one for grudges, too much to do to waste the effort.” The man blew out a big breath, seeming to compose himself. “Alright then. I suppose you want the Apprentice Fetch quest? 100% Zone completion and all that?”

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“Umm, actually,” Arron replied sheepishly, pulling the Living Weapon from his Inventory for the first time. It was shaped like a thick cylinder with lines and runes running the length in an intricate design. He had to admit, it was quite beautiful. Even a cursory glance let Arron know this item hummed with power. “I understand you can tell me what to do with this?”

The smith bounded back to Arron, getting uncomfortably close as he blocked the item from view.

“Put that away,” Smith hissed.

Arron vigorously nodded, returning it to his Inventory.

With it safely stowed away, Smith relaxed just a hair, looking around as if to confirm they were still alone, and walked to his forge. “It’s not every day someone comes in for that quest chain.”

He grabbed his tongs again, reaching into his furnace, pressing the tongs deep until Arron could smell the hair on the man’s arm burn away. “A foundation hidden in fire,” Smith said reverently. He withdrew a glowing white disc, roughly the size of an old CD, ripples of heat distorting the air around it.

“Pull that rope,” Smith said, nodding to indicate a thick hemp rope on the wall of his shop.

Arron obliged. The rope barely budged. Even with his higher-than-normal strength, it took considerable effort to pull up whatever was on the other side. Hand over hand, sweat dripping into his eyes, his damaged body trembled from being put through yet more torment.

With Arron on the rope, Smith moved to the kiln where he’d dropped the silver coins, tilting it forward, pouring a small, molten silver drop on the disc in his tongs.

“A sacrifice made for another,” he mumbled. “A little further,” he said louder, glancing at Arron’s progress. “There!”

Smith kicked aside a cloth to reveal a tall tube that disappeared through the roof of the blacksmith shop. The tube had a small cutout in the side, perfectly shaped like the disc. He shoved the item into the hole, removing the tongs with lightning speed.

The artisan had timed it perfectly. The rope slackened in Arron’s hands, nearly knocking him off balance at the sudden lack of resistance. A deafening ring shook the walls as a huge, shining cylinder smashed down onto the glowing disc inside the tube.

“What the hell was that?” Arron asked, looking at the smoking hole.

“Modified coin mint. Constructed and enchanted to make this.”

Smith pulled the disc from the tube and plunged it into a nearby tank of oil. As he pulled it free, Arron caught his first sight of the disc made whole.

Embossed onto the outside was an image of some sort of map, lines running across it in silver.

“Quickly, a drop of blood on it,” Smith whispered.

Caught up in the near reverence Smith displayed over the creation of this disc, Arron didn’t hesitate to take an awl from the workbench and push it into his palm, hissing at the newfound pain.

The blood hit the disc, and rivers and valleys became clearer, mountains and trees more vibrant as the crimson mixed with the silver. A clear path was being delineated. A sense of awe at the elegance and practicality of the device washed over him.

Quest – Searching for Handy – To use this weapon, you must find someone who can awaken it. Definitely a road less traveled.

“I take it this is where I’m going?” Arron asked.

“Yup. The road can be treacherous, but you will know when you get there. Seek out Handy. He can awaken your weapon for you.”

“Handy?” Arron asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Handy,” Smith said with a knowing nod.

“Well, ok then,” Arron replied, heading for the door. “Thank you for your help. I do appreciate it.”

The large man smiled, folding his thick arms across his chest. “And if you survive, and you want to keep building that strength, come back. I can put ya to work at the anvil.”

Arron paused, turning to look back at Smith. “Smithing can increase my Strength?”

And that was how he found himself in the middle of a steep pass, playing mountain goat, and losing.