[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
I hold up my hand and smile at the crowd. “Please disperse, everyone. We’ll be back once we sort out this misunderstanding.”
The [Guard] closest to me adjusts her helmet, as though she’s worried she may have to rely on it shortly. “Bold words for a con artist.”
“Why arrest us without looking into the facts? We haven’t sold a thing. We’re just introducing ourselves to the city,” I say with as much sincerity as I can. I don’t want to come across as a know-it-all, but I’ve also had enough of being bossed around to last me a lifetime or three.
The big [Guard] with a shield frowns. “He’s not lying, unless he can bypass my Skill.”
“How should I address you, officers?” I ask with a slight tilt of my head, relieved that this [Guard] has a truth-related Skill. “My name is Nuri, but I don’t believe I’ve caught your names yet.”
The shield bearer chuckles. “Well, well. See something new everyday. Our criminals want to make formal introductions.”
“Shut up and cuff them!” his partner snarls at him. She twirls her baton and steps forward to arrest me, but the stern light of unyielding justice in her eyes fades into uncertainty when my brother shoulders past me to tower over her.
Mikko cracks his knuckles and pulls a full-size anvil out of his enormous backpack. He tosses it from hand to hand like it's a child's toy, grinning all the while.
The guard lifts a small runic device to her mouth. Instantly, old fears kick in, and I start to breathe faster, each breath coming low and shallow. I have no desire to return to prison. Instinctively, I reach for my [Greater Heat Manipulation], about to melt the object and make her drop it so she can't summon backup, but thankfully my brother diffuses the situation and gives me space to calm down.
Before she can activate the communication device, Mikko sets down the anvil in front of him and sits on it, crossing his legs. He waves. "Hi, I'm Mikko, a [Blacksmith] by Class and a part-time monster hunter by choice. Who are you?"
“You really just want our names? Thought you were about to bash my head in with that hunk of metal,” the shield bearer says, laughing nervously. "I'm Uchenna. This is Nala. She’s the [Guard] supervisor for this part of town.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Uchenna. You too, Nala, even if you still look like you want to toss me in prison,” Mikko says, laughing in his simple, unpretentious way.
His good cheer seems to put them at ease, which is a skill I’ve always admired and envied. I’m good at convincing people that I’m on their side, or that they should be on my side, but I’m not good at actually making friends. There’s a difference between allies of convenience and true companions.
I put a comforting hand on Rakesh’s shoulder now that the immediate threat seems to have passed. “Snap out of it, buddy. We need you to put that big brain to work.”
The overwhelmed, panicked look slowly drains from our [Researcher]’s face. He stands up straight, smooths out his robes, and taps into his Skills. “[Guards], if I may direct your attention to your city bylaws, please note that class 3, section 6 States that, pursuant to the exchange of—”
I sink inward, watching the activation of his scholarly abilities. Once again, the glimmer of mana I sense when his Skills ignite almost seems to trigger something deep within me. A new Skill is at hand; it’s so close that I can almost taste it. Invariably, though, the faint wisps of meaning evaporate like fog over a lake burned off by the blaze of the morning sun. Ugh. How long until I finally earn the elusive Skill I've been chasing?
“. . . Busking charges then,” Nala says.
I blink. I must have been out of commission again, because the conversation is moving on faster than I can follow. I need to get better at not spacing out when we’re in the middle of something. If I pull a stunt like that in a Rift, then it might be the last mistake that I ever make. I have too many people depending on me for that.
“Did we pass a hat? I think not. Again, no money exchanged hands, nor did we solicit favors or the promise of future trade or discounts,” Rakesh says. “In fact, my team was simply introducing ourselves to the townsfolk.”
Rakesh smiles thinly, but there's an undeniable hint of a predatorial air in his eyes when he continues. “Would it put your minds at ease if we move on to paperwork? I’d be happy to fill out the requisite forms for selling and buying, since I’m aware that, according to your charter and constitution, you do restrict public stalls to licensed [Merchants] and peddlers.
“Please note that we do have a writ of introduction from the Royal Army, which entitles us to make use of your city’s resources as we see fit and to interview the general population as necessary. I believe that my colleagues were interested in hearing from your citizens about the reported incursions in a carefree setting, without biasing their remarks. Sharing our crafting expertise and making small talk is simply a tactical choice, and not an endeavor to bypass jurisprudence.”
Faced with the onslaught of legal jargon and the unassailable logic of a man who clearly loves paperwork more than they do, Uchenna and Nala put away the manacles. They fall back a step to confer in quiet whispers that grow increasingly urgent. After a moment, Nala grimaces and looks up with an exasperated sigh.
“Fine. You talk a big game, and Uchenna insists that you’re not lying. That doesn’t mean you’re strictly telling the truth, either. We’ll take you to the [Magistrate] and let him sort it out.”
I nod agreeably. “That’s reasonable. We’ll join you, as long as we’re unchained and not under threat or coercion. I don’t take kindly to abuses of power.”
Nala gives me an odd look. Something akin to sympathy flashes in her eyes, although it may simply be my imagination. “Neither do I, Nuri. I also believe that no one is above the law, however. Don’t think that a Writ entitles you to bad behavior. If it’s real,” she finishes quietly.
“Let’s go, team. We’ve got work to do,” I say. The others gather around me, and we stroll off in the direction Nala indicates.
“Hey, what about my fish, young man?” Kofi calls out. “I was promised help for carting in all that sand!”
Nala whips around, her glare back in place. “You left that out, conman. Convenient. Start talking, and no tall tales.”
“My brother asked for help carrying sand up to the town square and he promised the [Fisherman] Kofi that he’ll help unload the fish at his store," I say, chuckling weakly. "Last I checked, there's certainly nothing illegal about that."
"Is this true, Kofi?" Nala asks.
"Nala, good to see you," Kofi says, tipping his big, floppy straw hat. "Yep yep. Big ole kid asked for help. We got ourselves a deal. Don't go looking for trouble where there ain't any. Just might find it."
"I'll keep that in mind," Nala says, sighing.
"Come by later for your usual order?" Kofi asks.
She nods. "You vouch for them?"
"Reckon so. Nice kids."
"All right. Mikko, is it? You can go with my friend Kofi. Treat him right, or else I'll hunt you down. Got it? As for the rest of you, let's get to the [Magistrate] so I can get back out on patrol.” Nala cracks a smile—her first sign of positive emotion since she showed up. “Kofi, you best not sell out before I get there. Ma was proper angry with me last time.”
"Wouldn't dream of it, Nala."
I wave at Mikko as we part ways. I'm glad that his penchant for making friends is paying off, but I'm always disappointed when we aren’t able to adventure together. Ha. If I'm honest, I'm just envious that he's going to get out of appearing before the [Magistrate].
For some reason, I'm expecting Nala and Uchenna to lead us on a trek far across the city, but we only walk for a minute or two across the central square before I catch sight of our destination.
The town hall rises above the square like a regal lion surveying its kingdom. Built of white marble and finely dressed stone, the imposing, three storey building stands taller than the shops around it. There's a sense of pride in every hard line and edge. Gleaming white in the mid morning sun, the hall spins a narrative: the nobility here clearly consider it a beacon of hope and prosperity. It's as much of a symbol of the city's wealth and power as it is a place where people come to conduct business.
What does that say about the people who work inside? I hope they listen to what we have to say instead of acting pompous. Of course, I've put our team in an awkward spot by not registering our arrival immediately. I guess I should fix things, since it's my fault.
“State your business!” a burly [Guard] barks as we approach the front entrance. His eyes stare straight ahead, never seeming to inspect our group even when Nala presents her badge and authenticates our visit.
“Badge! You’re entitled to one hour.”
Without further ceremony, Nala accepts the burnished bronze badge granting us entrance and ushers us into the town hall. She seems tightly-wound, like a spring on the edge of failure, but once we walk inside, her tension melts away. “Pompous git,” she mutters under her breath.
Like the facade of the town hall, the interior is also made of white marble, as far as I can tell. I’m not an expert on stone, but it sure looks like it’s made of an expensive material, not a counterfeit. I wonder how a moderately sized town like this one could afford something so prized for its beauty. Maybe it’s quarried in the nearby mountains?
Regardless, the luxurious surroundings are enough to cut my musing short. I knew the building was large, but the grand entrance didn’t prepare me for such a spacious, august interior. The first room is absolutely massive—a waste of good space, it seems to me—but if the goal is to leave visitors feeling insignificant, then mission accomplished. The stately entrance is flanked by two large columns, and murals of past heroic deeds decorate the walls.
“Impressive, huh?” Uchenna says, gesturing grandly with his spear. “Not many outsiders get to see it their first day in town, so consider yourselves lucky.”
“Arresting us is a strange way to show our good fortune,” I reply, but he just grins at me. Now that he’s not sizing me up for a stay in the dungeon, he seems fairly affable.
We traverse the vast, empty entryway and pass through a vaulted tunnel that ends in an arch three times our height. Twin sets of curved stairs sweep up along the walls on either side. Nala nods to the right, and we follow her up the stairs, down a long, broad portico that overlooks the river Mikko visited, and into a spacious but sparsely appointed office.
The [Magistrate] looms over us from his elevated seat. He’s perched behind an imposing oak desk in the town hall, his face expressionless as he regards us. He seems tall and lanky, an older man with a receding hairline and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, but not frail. His clothes are neatly pressed, and his hair is combed back in a severe style. He looks like the kind of man who takes his job very seriously.
Great. Just what I was afraid of.
The [Magistrate] shoos away his aide. He purses his lips and locks eyes with Nala while she explains the situation, then rolls his wrist in my direction as if to indicate that I need to get on with my side of the story. His eyes bore into me the entire time I speak, but he doesn’t say a word. When I finally finish, he takes a deep breath, never stopping in his death-stare, and begins to speak in a harsh, clipped tone.
“Impersonating agents of the Royal army carries severe penalties. Under the Greater Densmore Unified Penal Code, section—”
“Thirty-two, paragraph five is what you’re looking for,” Rakesh interjects. “It does not apply to us, however, since we have an authenticated Writ from [Spear Commander] Nicanor, which I can present if you’ll allow me to approach.”
The [Magistrate]’s frown deepens, but he motions for his armored bodyguard to stand down when the man bristles and half-draws his sword. “And you are?”
Rakesh clears his throat and lifts a hand in greeting. “I am Rakesh, a [Secretarial Researcher] from the Silaraon City Academy.”
“Ah. A borderlander.” The sneer oozes through the [Magistrate]’s voice, making exceedingly clear his thoughts about Silaraon, despite its relative proximity to Mahkaiaraon.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I bristle. We’re a bigger city with more trade traffic, not to mention the presence of an Army camp led by a [General] in the Third Threshold. Why does he think that a long day's walk is worth anything? I've been to the Capital. It wasn't all that. I manage to swallow my anger and defer to Rakesh, however.
“Please review this documentation,” Rakesh says, withdrawing the Writ from Nicanor and offering it to the [Magistrate] with both hands. He bows over his hands, just the bare minimum to avoid giving insult—which is an insult in itself.
“Crest appears accurate and sealed,” the [Magistrate] says. He winces, as though the admission hurts him physically. He waves a hand, and the paper pops out of Rakesh’s hands and lands on top of the desk. A swirl of mana surrounds the dour man, and his eyes flicker back and forth while he scans the content. His lips move soundlessly, and by the time he reaches the end, his entire demeanor changes.
“Authentic indeed.” He delivers his verdict with more enthusiasm than I expect. He rises, straightens his robes, and strides down the broad steps of his platform to shake our hands. “Rakesh, Nuri, welcome to Mahkaiaraon. We’re glad that such an illustrious group has come to assist with the monster incursions; your attached resume is fascinating. Now, if you’ll come with me, we’ll arrange badges for your team so that our industrious [Guards] don’t bother you during your stay.”
“Nala and Uchenna have been most helpful,” I say, smiling at the pair of [Guards], who are now extremely nervous looking. “We’d appreciate their continued guidance, if you don’t mind. Perhaps they can be temporarily relieved of their patrol duties to help guide us to the old keep?”
“Heaven help us. We’re all gonna die,” Uchenna murmurs, his friendly, umber-colored face turning into an ashen mask of terror. The sudden fear in his eyes makes me wonder if agreeing to come here was a mistake.
=+=
Sorting out the details with the [Magistrate] is fairly straightforward in the end, but our [Guards] are painfully awkward after the fact, treating us like visiting dignitaries instead of criminals. It occurs to me that we could have saved everyone a lot of trouble by just checking in with the [Lord] or his appointed [Magistrate] first, but sometimes I’m just too shortsighted for my own good.
Ah well. Lesson learned.
Maybe.
I turn to our legal expert. “Hey, Rakesh? Thanks for bailing us out. I’m sorry that I didn’t let you take the lead when we first got to the city. You clearly understand how to navigate these situations better than I do. You should be our coordinator on the road.”
“I appreciate the honor. I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks. Now that we’re in the clear, I want to go back to workshopping our workshop-less work. But first, we need to pick up Mikko.” I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck to get rid of the last bit of headache, wishing that I could clear the lingering tension with a blast of concentrated mana. Maybe Lionel can help with that, since he’s a [Healer], too.
I wave over our [Guard]-turned-guide. “Nala, is it time for you to get some fish? I don’t want my poor brother to wonder what became of us. If we don’t find him soon, then he might charge right through the wall in his eagerness to ‘liberate’ us. He might look like a harmless lummox, but he’s incredibly strong and has a masterwork hammer.”
Nala blanches. “Next street, take a left. Two blocks down, and then another left should get us to Kofi’s shop. I thought he was a [Blacksmith]?”
“He is. But your Class doesn’t define who you are. It’s just a handy collection of tools,” I reply, thinking back to my discussion with Smoke about Class and identity.
“You certainly have strange ideas,” Uchenna mutters. “Are you really a [Glassworker]? I’ve never heard of anyone hunting monsters with glass before. It sounds, well, it sounds—”
“Ridiculous?” I supply helpfully.
“A bit,” he admits. “No offense.”
“None taken. I get it. Glass is fragile and finicky. It takes a lot of coaxing to get it to act as tough as metal, or as strong as stone.” I wink at Avelina, who beams in response to me calling out her new Skill. “But there’s more to fighting than weapons, just like there’s more to you than being a [Guard]. Haven’t you ever done something in your off time that was different from what your Class suggests you can do?”
Uchenna chews on the inside of his cheek while we turn left, heading down the street that Nala indicated. “Guess so. I only use my Skills while I’m on the job, usually. Sometimes, if I’m not sure if my cousins are teasing me, I check that they’re telling the truth, but that’s about it. I don’t use Skills when I’m playing games with the boys, or when I’m out hunting.”
I nod, encouraging him to continue that line of thinking. “Many [Glassworkers] gain Skills related to heat. I can freeze you where you stand, or burn down the city with a burst of pure fire. It’s all from a Skill granted by my Class, but it’s only tangentially related to glass, if you really think about it.”
“You burn monsters?” Uchenna asks.
“Nah. Too unreliable. Sometimes they’re heat-resistant, or fire-aspected, like the huge flaming ursine in the fire-aspected Lesser Rift I delved recently. That was an interesting change of pace compared with the other Rifts I’ve cleared.”
“You’ve cleared a Rift?”
The disbelief in his voice makes me snort. “I know, I know. I don’t look like much, do I? Missing a hand, not particularly big or muscular, unlike my brother, and not sporting a weapon.”
Nala smacks Uchenna across the shoulder with her baton. “Stop antagonizing him. The Royal army says that they can help. Might as well trust that they know what they’re doing. Sorry about him. He’s still young.”
“I like making conversation,” I say with a slight smile. “It’s nice to talk with people who are curious about our team and don’t have an ulterior motive.”
Uchenna ducks his head. “Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply that you can’t handle yourself in a fight. Clearly your team knows what it’s doing, if you’ve been commissioned by the Densmore army as a special unit. I’m just curious about how it all works!”
“Lead us to the old keep, and you’ll get a chance to see for yourself,” I promise. At the [Guard]’s look of profound uneasiness, I chuckle and clap him on the shoulder—more gently than Nala did. “Look, you don’t have to fight any monsters with us. Just stand back and watch us at work. You might pick up some tricks. Who knows? You may even earn a new Skill.”
“If you do a really good job, Nuri might even make you an imbued spear to replace that stick with a pointy bit on the end that you call a weapon,” Lionel pipes up. “That would set you apart, eh?”
Uchenna misses a step, almost falling over as his head whips around to stare at me. “You’re a Master craftsman? How? You don’t even look as old as I am!”
“Uhh, I don’t like to advertise that fact,” I say, giving Lionel a pointed look. “But let’s just say that it was a period of accelerated growth caused by extreme stress. I don’t recommend it.”
Uchenna’s eyes flick toward my missing hand, and he grows quiet. I don’t follow up on the conversation, leaving him to his thoughts while we make the final turns and soon reach the fish shop where Kofi sells his daily catch.
Mikko is lounging on the front porch in a rocking chair opposite of Kofi. They each have a drink in hand, and somewhere along the line, my brother picked up a floppy straw hat that’s a match for Kofi’s.
Nala glances at him, then turns to look at me with raised eyebrows. “I can see he’s ready to break you out of prison at any moment.”
“He’d have come for me. Eventually.”
“Not in jail, I see. Good news!”
“Good to see you too, Mikko,” I say, hailing my brother, who doesn’t bother to stand up to greet us. Instead, he beckons us toward the pitcher on the small, rickety end table nearby.
“So? We good?” Mikko asks.
I nod. “Once Rakesh presented the writ that Nicanor gave us, the [Magistrate] changed his tune. We’re free to go. Nala and Uchenna will guide us to the old keep when we’re ready.”
“Aw! I thought that we didn’t have to go until tomorrow?” Mikko complains. He drains his cup, burps, and rocks forward to hop to his feet. He doffs his hat toward the friendly [Fisherman] who shared food and drink with him. “Kofi, it was an honor. I’ll be back to fish with you once we deal with the pesky beasts.”
“We’re not leaving just yet,” I clarify. “We need to get a map, ideally, meet with the [Lord] to assess the threat, and run through the battleplan with Rakesh. Plus, none of us have our weapons, unless you’re hiding a hammer in your back pocket.”
“Nope. Just an anvil,” Mikko confirms, hefting his oversized backpack and rapping on the side with his knuckles. “Speaking of, you wanna test it out? I’m still curious to see if your paltry little fire magic can keep up with my mighty forge.”
“Oh, you’re on!” I shout. “All right, everyone, it’s Mikko’s turn. Making glass went pretty well, earlier but we’ll see how this goes when we try to help him with his [Blacksmith] work.”
“We almost got arrested,” Lionel points out. “Is that what you call going well?”
Avelina shrugs. “We’re fine now. All I heard is an excuse to play with fire. You can sit this one out if it’s too hot to handle, Lio.”
“I think I’d like to go back to the inn and prepare for tomorrow, actually,” Melina says. She gestures around the street, busy with foot traffic and wooden buildings built close by each other. “Besides, this isn’t exactly the safest place to play with fire.”
“True. We should find a more open spot,” I say, nodding in agreement. “Don’t want to burn down our new friend’s shop if something goes awry.”
Lionel snickers. “With you, that’s a guarantee.”
“Very funny, Lio. Why don’t you, Mel, and Rakesh head back to the inn and prep? Leave the heavy-duty work to the professionals.”
He winks. “I was hoping you’d say that. Anything to get out of actually working. I'm a delicate [Healer] now.”
“I like your style,” Uchenna says, grinning at Lionel. “Can’t believe I was going to arrest you. This is going to be such a great story to tell my mates at the pub later!”
“You can guide them back to the inn,” I suggest. “Nala, could you suggest a better spot for a training area? And do you mind staying with us so that we know how to get back when we’re finished?”
She tilts her head to the side, frowning in thought. “Yeah, there’s an old quarry a little ways outside of town. All the valuable rocks ended up in the town hall. Now, it’s stripped bare and long since abandoned. Nothing left but rocks and water; if you can burn that down, then I’ll be impressed. Come with me. I’ll show you the way.”
Nala keeps giving me the side eye as we walk. Twice she takes a breath, as though she wants to ask a question, but each time she looks away and bites her tongue. Maybe she’s feeling unsure about how to broach the subject after the turn of events in the [Magistrate]’s office. At last I catch her eye and hold her gaze until she blinks and looks away.
“Something on your mind, Nala?”
“Are you really crafters? I mean, I get that [Blacksmiths] are strong and can hit hard, but I’ve never seen glass-makers fight. People are scared. Can you—will you actually help?”
I smile as gently as I can. “We’re good at what we do. I’ve closed Rifts and slain their bosses. Kicking out some overzealous monsters will be child’s play.”
“Child’s play. I see,” the Nala says, her tone dry. “And that’s why you made trinkets for kids in the town square. It all makes sense now.”
“That’s us. Toy-makers and monster-slayers,” I reply with a jaunty bow. “I’ve outfitted my team with imbued glass, as Lionel mentioned. But do you see me using any weapons made of glass? No. Why? Because I don’t need them.”
Nala doesn’t answer, but my dramatic, slightly over-confident boast seems to have put her at ease. She picks up the pace and leads us out of Mahkaiaraon, through a gate staffed with more [Guards] than I usually see in one place during times of peace. I suppose to them, this is war. We make our way up a wide road into the rocky foothills near town, and soon arrive at our destination.
An enormous pit, like an open wound, marks where the quarry used to be. From what Nala says, they dug down and stripped the ground bare to extract precious stone, and then moved on to a new spot to plunder the treasures of the deep earth. They had the decency to put up warning signs, but it still looks like a lethal fall if someone ignores the clear danger.
We march down a winding path until we reach the bottom of the empty quarry. Nothing flammable presents itself, which is a relief. I’d rather not drive off the incursion just to come back and find that we burned down half the town. Pools of water fill in the jagged rocks, which should help quench the finished projects. The abandoned quarry is the perfect place for us to experiment.
“What’s first, Ko?”
Mikko looks the part of a blacksmith: tall and muscular, with heavy shoulders and a face that could pass for an anvil in its own right. I elect to keep that opinion to myself. He wears a leather apron and a pair of thick gloves, although with [Iron Skin] he probably could hold hot iron in his bare hands for a while before it burns him. He twirls a big hammer in one hand, and hoists up his anvil in the other.
“A toy soldier. Maybe Nala can help us find that kid in the crowd this morning. I know Ava made a figurine for him, but what’s more fun than a few soldiers? An entire army!”
I grin. “Fantastic idea.”
“Are they magic soldiers?” Nala asks. She frowns at the bar of metal that Mikko pulls out of his bag, then snorts in disbelief as he bends it in half in a casual show of strength.
“Nope. The magic is all in your imagination,” Mikko replies, tapping a finger to the side of his head. “Now, Nuri, stop schmoozing up the local [Guards] and start throwing some heat my way. You and Ava can compete over the hottest fire.”
“Oh, you’re on!” Avelina squeals.
Fire leaps to her command, wreathing her hands in multicolored flames. I wince at the roiling intensity of the energy that heeds her beck and call, and marshall my [Greater Heat Manipulation] to ward Nala before the skin melts off her face.
“Careful, Ava! That anvil isn’t as sturdy as Mikko’s thick skull,” I call out, laughing at my brother’s dramatic expression of wounded dignity.
He grunts. “It’ll hold. My master made it to withstand his own forging. Little Ava has a long way to go before she can melt this metal.”
I close my eyes and focus on the heat within me, calling on the primal rune for fire. The power sings, building to a crescendo, coiling like a serpent in my belly that’s poised to strike. I open my eyes and release the accumulated heat, sending it shooting towards the anvil. The metal on the anvil glows red hot, and Mikko begins to work it with his hammer.
Avelina steps forward, summoning more and more of her own magic and adding it to the mix. Her fire dances around the metal bar, heating it even further than my own magic, and I have to admit that she’s eclipsed me when it comes to manipulating fire.
Mikko’s hammer rises and falls almost too quickly for me to follow, each strike ringing out like hail on a rooftop. He flattens out the bar in seconds, folding and shaping the metal in ways that only multiple Skills can accomplish. The joy shining on his face warms my heart. I don’t get to watch him work very often, so seeing him hammer out the details of the armor and sword for the little metal soldier makes me happy.
Bit by bit, the toy soldier emerges, taking form with each tap of the hammer. The toy is about the size of a child’s hand, but astonishingly detailed. A shiny silver helmet crowns the figure, and somehow, Mikko’s adorned the toy in a red coat. I don’t even know how he did it; he doesn’t have paint, and he used the same metal. Must be a byproduct of one of his Skills. I look closer, admiring the fine details on the little sword in its hand. Mikko’s improved by leaps and bounds with delicate details. He’s as meticulous as he is fast, making sure that the toy soldier is a worthy gift.
Mikko holds the toy soldier up to the sunlight, turning it around and examining it with a critical eye. He frowns in dissatisfaction, mutters to himself, and twists the angle of the sword arm. He waves it at me and finally cracks a smile. “Now. That’s a toy soldier that any child would be proud to have.”
Nala creeps closer to the makeshift, outdoor forge as the heat dies down, wonder written across her features. Tentatively, she holds out a hand. “May I?”
“Wait until it cools. We still need to quench it. But it’s all yours,” Mikko says with a grin, his impulsive generosity rising to the fore. “I’ll make another for that cute kid. This one can be your good-luck charm.” He lowers his voice and winks. “Just between you and me, we’ll pretend that I meant to make a [Guard] instead of a [Soldier].”
Seeing her soft smile makes nearly getting arrested worth it. This is why I wanted to go back on the road. Meeting people and making things is a magic all of its own—one that not even all the runes in the world can match.