“Just over here,” Hannah said, pointing to a small black stoned structure ahead. True to her word, the forge was in sight even though we’d barely been walking for fifteen minutes. Nasq was still muttering some song under his breath, the effects of the wine still obvious.

The path to the blacksmith’s forge twisted through the heart of Elyndor, the cobblestones under our feet as we walked were well worn doubtlessly caused by the countless feet and hoofbeats that tread upon them daily. The brisk night air filled my lungs, a calming yet alerting sensation that both relaxed and sharpened my mind. The sun had finally begun to dip below the horizon, causing the city’s temperature to drop beyond anything I’d experienced in Sealrite or Silverwater and casting us into the night's shadows.

When I exhaled, my breath puffed forward before swirling up into the sky with the wind. I turned to Brianna. “Are we far enough from the desert here that there’s winter? Will there be snow?”

Hannah responded before Brianna had a chance. The girl answered so quickly I wasn’t sure Brianna even had the opportunity to register that I’d asked her a question. “No, we don’t usually get snow here. Some frost, but never snow. We aren’t far enough north. You’d need to go up to the Alegier Mountains or northwest to the Pandorian Empire.”

“Then why is it so much colder than Sealrite?” Nida asked, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. We'd all need jackets to wear atop our thin fabric shirts.

“Elyndor’s at a pretty high elevation,” Hannah explained, “and Sealrite is in the middle of a volcanic desert.”

“A volcanic desert?” I echoed, surprised.

Hannah nodded, though she gave me an odd look. “You didn’t know?”

I shrugged. “My family didn’t feel the need to educate me on certain matters.”

“Ah, well,” Hannah muttered, scratching the back of her head with a sheepish smile. “Mount St. Matthews is an active volcano that makes up at least a fifth of the Grand Desert, where Sealrite is, bordering close to the Silverwater Barony. It’s part of why noble children from there often have strong fire affinities.”

“That explains why the Silverwater Barony never had winter,” I unintentionally muttered aloud.

Hannah didn’t seem to mind. “Exactly. Though, some cities in the barony do have winter because they’re far enough from Mount St. Matthews. You wouldn’t have seen that in Carlion, though.” At my blank expression, she chuckled awkwardly. “The… capital of your family’s barony?”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “Carlion.”

“If I may ask, my lady,” Hannah said, her tone cautious, a stark contrast to her earlier openness, “how is it you know so little about your family’s territory?”

“My mother was a servant,” I said, my voice flat and cold. Though I wasn’t the Lilliana who’d suffered years of neglect, a part of me raged at the injustice she’d endured. “They preferred to act as if I didn’t exist, so educating me wasn’t exactly a priority. You may have heard of my exploits in Sealrite, but there is more to my life than just those parts."

Hannah swallowed hard and fell silent, hurrying ahead to avoid my gaze.

“She really stepped in it,” Brianna chuckled to Victor, who only grunted in response.

I didn’t particularly care that Hannah had asked. Children tended to be curious, if rather dumb.

In a few months, perhaps even weeks, it would hardly matter. I would crush that puny backwater barony so deep into its grave that memory of the Silverwater House would soon be lost to time.

I paused.

Where is this hate for them coming from? I wondered. I knew I inhabited Lilliana’s body, but I didn’t remember merging with her soul at all. Was it possible I was being affected by her emotions somehow?

I didn’t feel any different. I glanced at the people around me and felt something pull from within me.

Have I changed?

There was no time to ruminate further as the air around us grew thick with the scent of smoldering coal and hot iron, a raw, metallic tang that carried on the breeze like an echo.

The forge itself was a squat, sturdy building of black stones with a slate-shingled roof. A low chimney belched a steady stream of dark gray smoke that swirled up into the evening sky. Hannah ducked inside, leaving the heavy wooden door slightly ajar. I opened it further, noticing that the edges were cracked and gray, as if scorched.

A faint orange glow flickered from within, pulsing to the rhythm of the furnace and matching the steady clanging of metal striking metal. It was a deafening and familiar melody, a cacophony of hard work and power that reverberated in my chest with each hammer blow.

A hulking figure reminiscent of Ethan worked near the forge, clad in a soot-stained leather apron. His hammer struck the metal on his anvil with precision, each blow echoing like thunder and fanning a spray of glowing red sparks.

In the far corner of the room, Hannah spoke with a muscular woman who was second only to the blacksmith himself. She wore an apron and gloves similar to his, though she was not hammering anything and was yet to be stained by soot. The woman was behind a counter, leaning over to hear Hannah over the sound of the blacksmith’s work.

Noticing us, Hannah beckoned us over. “This is Agnes,” she said, introducing us to the large woman. “She’s one of the blacksmiths here. Really talented.”

“A pleasure,” I said, shaking the woman’s outstretched hand. She didn’t bow or show any formal courtesy, and I didn’t ask. Those who groveled weren’t worthy of crafting my weapon. The best forgers cared for nothing but their steel.

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“Once my husband finishes up, he can help you find some weapons,” Agnes said. “I specialize in armor, so I’ll start you off with that.” She handed me a thick booklet. “Here’s what we’ve got, with prices. Minor modifications are 1 Sun, major ones are 3 Suns.”

She headed through a door behind the counter and disappeared behind it as I opened the booklet, each page showing a different set of armor. The booklet explained that the sets were purposed to be purchased together, but could be bought separately at an additional price since that piece would need to be made again.

“These are expensive,” Brianna whispered. I handed her the book, indifferent to armor as long as it met a certain quality.

“How much money do we have?” I asked.

Brianna pursed her lips in thought. “I’ve still got around 6 nightcrowns. Did you truly not bring any?”

I shook my head and glanced at Nida and Nasq. Nida shook her head, and Nasq was mesmerized, watching the blacksmith work. “Seems we did not.”

I need to watch my finances, I thought, scolding myself. I wasn’t a queen here; no treasury was there to fund my necessities.

“Brianna, explain how money works in Lysoria,” I said, catching yet another odd look from her. I ignored it and, taking the hint, Brianna just shrugged.

“Most of Pularea uses the same money, except the Empire. The lowest currency is called a Rust. Ten Rusts is a Mistmark, ten Mistmarks is a Sun, ten Suns is a Nightcrown, and ten Nightcrowns is a Sable.”

“Did you know this?” I said, looking at Nida. The woman had seemed just as lost as I had been whenever money had gotten involved, despite the system being rather simple. Still, I should have asked earlier.

Nida frowned. “I’m from the Beastlands, my lady. We don’t use those weird names for our coins. My home uses coins based on core realms. Bronze, silver, gold, platinum. Way easier than these fancy names.”

Brianna could only shrug again. “I didn’t come up with the names.”

I grunted. “Brianna, Nida, choose what you think is best and within budget. Everyone should get a set of armor in case what happens earlier happens again.”

I didn’t need to tell them what I meant. We all remembered the horde attack and the Hydra.

They both nodded solemnly.

I went over to stand by Nasq, watching the blacksmith. Each strike on the anvil was so loud I should have flinched, but it, instead, soothed me. It was a melody of peace rather than an assault on the senses. Jackoby wasn’t forcing a weapon into existence; he was crafting it.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there just watching him hammer away at the steel. Before I knew it, the man was finished. Lowering his hammer, he looked up and a small smile spread from behind the thick bush of his black beard.

“Are ya planning to stay and watch me grind the steel as well?”

It took a second for me to come out of my reverie enough to answer the man. “Perhaps another day.” I motioned toward the advertised swords at the other end of the forge, opposite to where Agnes’ counter was. “At the moment, we would like to see your weapon inventory.”

Jackoby huffed. His voice was a deep baritone that vibrated when he spoke. “Come, then.” As he made his way toward the array of weapons, Nida left Brianna with the book and joined us. Her eyes lit with excitement when she spotted a dozen or so spears laid out along a table. Jackoby nodded at her. “Go and take a look, girl. Tell me if you spot something to your liking.”

“Any steel staffs?” Nasq asked.

“A steel staff?” Jackoby’s brow raised. “Never heard of a mage using something so heavy. There’s a woodcrafter down the roa—”

“No,” Nasq said firmly, interrupting whatever instructions the man had been in the middle of providing. “I want it in steel, with enough weight and strength to splatter anything standing in its way."

Jackoby paused, then laughed, clapping Nasq on the back. “Bahahaha, I like the sound of that! A proper weapon for a warmage!” He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “I’ll get that made, though I’ll need to add some runes for stability." He stroked his beard. "Perhaps I'll have ya hire a runemaster to aid me in that part though."

Nasq nodded, returning the man’s smile albeit with a good amount of shyness. “I would appreciate that. I can pay extra for it.”

“Aye, damn straight ya will. I ain’t doing this for free,” the man laughed, leading us to a table full of rapiers and gesturing to it as he turned to face me. “These should suit ya just fine, little lady."

I didn’t respond to his words. Instead, I picked up one of the better-crafted rapiers. I’d used this type of sword a fair amount in my previous life as a princess candidate, though it’d never been my main weapon. It was too light and was limited quite strictly to stabbing. Even with heart energy imbued into the blade, stabbing such a puny weapon through a progenitor or any part of a beast like a Hydra was impossible.

I raised the rapier into the air and swung it down toward the floor. The blade exploded into a shower of thin steel on impact, sending shards flying in every direction.

“No,” I said simply. “Too weak.”

Jackoby gawked at me for only a second. He quickly regained his composure and presented a crooked grin. “Alright then, lass. What type of blade would you like?”

“I want a blade that hungers. One that screams when I swing it and relishes when I stab. One that grows with me.”

He rubbed his thick beard. “Those blades aren’t toys, lass. Sometimes, they’re more dangerous for the wielder than your target at the other end of the blade."

I allowed a portion of my silver realm Authority to leak through my core and seep into the forge, submerging the blacksmith, his wife, and all my companions in the weight of my power. It was there for only a few seconds before I pulled it back, but it’d been long enough that in the absence of that pressure, only silence remained.

“I apologize, warrior,” Jackoby said, offering me a small bow. He seemed to recognize my display hadn’t been meant as a threat but rather as a necessity—sometimes showing was easier than explaining. “I forget sometimes, in my old age, that appearances aren’t an indication of true age or strength.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, glancing at Nasq. “I thought my muscles had developed since reaching the silver realm. And I've been working on them quite frequently." I flexed and they looked fine. "Is that not accurate?”

Nasq just shrugged. “They’re bigger than mine.”

“You’ve never been the most muscular woman,” Nida added, still frowning at the blacksmith.

“Looks like we’ll need to increase our physical training, then,” I said. Nasq groaned.

Jackoby straightened, patting his soot-stained apron. “Let me ask again, my lady. What type of weapon are you searching for? I understand you desire an intelligent blade; however, I am neither skilled nor knowledgeable in enchantments. What I can provide is a steel blade stronger and sturdier than any found in Lysoria—or at least, in southern Lysoria.”

“How costly are the enchantments?” I asked.

Jackoby gave a gruff laugh. “Around these parts, at least five Nightcrowns. If you go to a Kingdom’s capital, you’re looking at prices as high as two Sables.”

Hannah whistled. “That’s a fortune right there. Even my ma couldn’t afford that without selling our entire estate.”

“Well,” Jackoby said, reaching for a small stack of papers next to the small pile of newly polished rapiers, “you can always join a tournament. Occasionally, the prizes include Awakened Steel.” He handed me a slip of parchment with a drawing of two swords crossed over a bull symbol. Although the image lacked color, the heavy ink and the detailed rendering of the sword below made my pulse quicken. “Aye, there’s a tournament being hosted by the matriarch in the Duke’s honor. The winner was to receive one of the Duke’s prized swords, but the King is in town for the funeral and offered up a sword he found in the depths of Mount St. Matthews.” He lowered his voice despite the empty smithy. “Rumor says the blade is cursed.”

My hand closed tightly around the paper’s edge as I stared at the greatsword depicted.

The blade of Awakened Obsidian Steel.

Slayer of the Demon Progenitor.

My blade.

Deathbringer.

I looked up at the blacksmith, finally tearing my gaze from the drawing, and spoke through clenched teeth. “Where do I sign up?”