The Shapers’ Forge was swarming with people, which was normal for this time of day. Saga deftly weaved her way through crowds of blacksmiths, goldsmiths, apprentices, and haulers going about their business. She practically grew up here, and knew this place and these people as well as she knew her own bedroom.

The specific area she was heading for, the Great Forge, was a cluster of Redlight forges at the center of the Shapers’ Forge, and the largest of them was reserved for use by the Blacksmith Councilor and those granted access by him. It wasn’t that it was any better than the other Redlight and normal forges around, but its central location and decorations, modest though they were, made it a matter of tradition. The Blacksmith Councilor was considered one of the best blacksmiths in the city, and that honor earned them the right to the Great Forge. It just so happened that the Blacksmith Councilor, at the moment, also happened to be the Craftking.

Carver Vance was an imposing man with the broad build of a lifetime smith, a scarred face and dark hair. He was wearing a blacksmith’s apron over his clothes, and a pair of long thick gloves to protect his hands. Most smiths let the various accidents and sparks of fire and metal scar their hands, but her father preferred to wear proper protection. He insisted on his wife and children doing the same, and so Saga herself had no real scars from her years as an apprentice. Well, except for one, but she hadn’t technically been an apprentice yet.

Her father was focused on his work, oblivious to his surroundings. His hammer was a masterwork, a large piece decorated with silver filigree in the shape of stylized flames. Every time he struck with it, the heat from the metal he was working on was absorbed into the flame pattern, making it glow. If you watched it long enough, the flames almost seemed to ripple as if they were real. He had a journeyman she recognized but couldn’t name assisting him while he put hammer to steel. He was working on a long bar, with several others sitting in the fire. That kind of simple part could become any number of things, and she couldn’t even begin to guess what he was making.

The telltale glow of Redsong energy bathed the two men as they worked, and Saga made sure not to look directly at the Redlight in the forge. Instead, she positioned her father between the forge and herself, blocking her view. The journeyman spotted Saga approaching and knocked on the base of the anvil with a small hammer to get her father’s attention. Papa looked up at the journeyman, then followed his gaze. His usual frown softened when he spotted his daughter, and disappeared completely when he saw the basket she was carrying. “That explains all the ruckus my stomach is making, growling louder than a snarewolf.”

He set aside the piece he’d been working on and walked over to hug his daughter, then pulled back to search her eyes. “Why are you still here?”

Saga snorted. “Thanks, Papa. I’m glad to know I’m still welcome here.”

He grimaced. “Not like that. Tale told me you were chosen. Thought you’d be gone.”

“Dearest Father, are you so eager to be rid of me?” she asked sweetly.

He gave her a confused look for a moment, opened his mouth to protest, then sighed. “You tease me.”

“I do.” She hugged him again and laughed. “We’re not leaving till tomorrow. I wanted to come let you all know, and Alder sent me with lunch.”

“That man deserves a raise.”

“For dodging work?”

“For working efficiently. No need for him to do it if you were already coming.” Papa was a pragmatic man, and valued efficiency and practicality in those around him. He wasn’t particularly well spoken, he wasn’t a bard like his father-in-law, but he was much more intelligent than he let on. She thought that was what made him an excellent Craftking. He kept things simple, but didn’t allow himself to be confused or swept away by complicated political matters.

She sniffed. “And yet, when I convinced Epic to do my chores I was confined to my room for the rest of the day.”

He scowled up at her. “That was different. Alder uses the time he saves wisely, to perform other tasks. You were off playing.”

“I paid him for it, at least,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

“That wasn’t the point, young lady, and you know it.” The lively voice of Saga’s mother caught her off guard, and she whirled. Mama was standing behind her with her arms crossed, fixing Saga with a disapproving stare. “The point of those chores was to build discipline, not to see how well you can talk others into doing what you want.”

Lorana Vance was a tall woman, with blonde hair kept in a loose bun while she was working. Her horns, elegantly curved and a radiant golden color, arched vertically backwards from just above and ahead of her ears like Saga’s, but extended past the back of her head. She was dressed similarly to her husband, wearing a blacksmith’s apron over a red tunic dappled with ash and scorch marks.

Saga’s smile faded. She knew her mother was immune to her charms. “I know, Mama, I’m sorry. That was over a decade ago, and I haven’t done it since, right?”

Her mother snorted, then smiled broadly. “Right, ‘cause you fear what would happen should you try it again. What brings you to the Forge?” Saga explained to her mother about what had happened that morning. “I see,” Lorana said when she was done. “Your grandfather told us you’d been chosen, but he didn’t tell us you’d be going with someone.”

Saga took a sandwich from her basket and offered it to her mother. “Master Dorrin isn’t so bad, I guess. Just wish it didn’t feel like he had something against me personally.”

Her mother and father shared a look but said nothing. She looked back and forth between them, waiting for one of them to speak, then grew impatient. "I swear, you two are mind readers."

Mama snorted again. “I don’t need to read minds, Saga. Your father’s easy enough for me to read already.” Carver grumbled, and his wife stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

Saga rolled her eyes. “No flirting in the Forge, you two. Or, at least, not around me.” She didn’t bother asking for an explanation. They were the kind of people who would tell you something if they wanted you to know it. Asking them directly would get nothing. “Where’s Epic? There’s a sandwich for him, too, if he’s here.”

Mama hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I was helping him with his project at another forge. He’s over that way if you want to see him.” She thought for a moment. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s near a stopping point. Tell him to meet us at the usual place and we’ll all eat together.”

Saga nodded and headed off in the direction her mother had pointed. It didn’t take her long to find her brother at another forge, hard at work on what appeared to be a gauntlet. It gave off the subtle glow of Redsong energy as he pounded away at it, shaping it. Her gaze drifted to the Redlight in the forge, the source of the energy, and the world froze as she stared at it.

A beautiful red crystal, swirling and flowing gracefully like fire, whispering to her. A shout, and an explosion. Fire filled her vision, and for a moment, she was a little girl again. Her eye burned, and someone was holding her. A scream filled her throat but wouldn’t come out.

“Saga?” In an instant, the world rushed back to her, and she found Epic facing her, looking concerned. “You okay?“

“Sorry, I’m fine,” she lied. She was breathing heavily, recovering from what just happened. “I got distracted for a second there.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You sure? Looked like you were about to pass out.” He grinned. He had black hair covered by his favorite dark green bandana, light brown eyes, and was almost as tall as she was. While she’d only completed her blacksmith training up to the journeyman level before beginning her lessons at the Keepers’ Academy, he’d stayed on under their parents and worked towards becoming a master blacksmith himself. He hadn’t reached that level yet, but she’d heard he was making progress on his masterwork.

He had some magical talent, despite not being a drake like her and their mother, and he used it to create enchanted armor. He had a knack for knowing just what to say to get the redlights to do exactly what he wanted, though he needed their mother’s help to actually speak to the magical fires. He glanced at the redlight as he stood, and the Redsong energy faded from the gauntlet he was working on as it left the immediate vicinity of the forge. The redlight itself was twisting and turning lazily in the forge without explicit directions to follow, though Epic didn’t need it to hear him if he was just making redsteel. “Why are you here?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Saga growled, suddenly furious, but she took a deep breath. The red fire that had begun to flicker in her right eye went out, and she put on a smile. “Sorry, just feels like everyone can’t wait for me to leave or something. My trial will take me farther than usual, so I’ve been given the rest of the day to prepare.” She held up the basket she’d brought. “I grabbed food on the way, Mama and Papa want us to meet them for lunch.”

His face lit up. “The usual place?” When she nodded, he turned and began to clean up his workspace. “I’ll be right there.”

“I can wait for you, if you want.”

“Nah. Won’t take long, be right behind you.”

She nodded, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and made her way out of the Great Forge.

While Beacon’s Ridge was naturally defended by the volcanic caldera it sat in, it still had a wall along the southern perimeter. The western end of the wall ended at the border of the Shapers’ Forge and its northern neighbor, the Cutters’ yard, and the walltop plaza there was a popular meeting place. Saga and her family had always enjoyed taking meals there, especially together.

Saga finished climbing the long stairs up to the top of the wall and made her way towards the plaza. As she drew close to the meeting place, she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She moved slightly to the side as her brother pulled up next to her and matched her pace. He was out of breath, and she grinned.

“You’re getting out of shape. I thought you’ve been training with the Guards?”

He glowered at her. “I don’t have time to run laps around the city wall. I just stick around for the self-defense training.” He patted the metal plate armor covering his legs. “Once it's finished, I won't have to worry about stamina.” He paused. “If it works, I mean.”

“It will.” She gave him a bright smile. “You’re a genius with this stuff, Epic! Angels above, your work let Captain Fettler walk again!”

Epic really was a prodigy in his field, and he’d discovered a novel way of enchanting armor to move on its own. Master enchanters had already improved on his work, of course, but most still credited him with the original idea. It was still rare to find pieces that used that enchantment, as it took even experienced enchanters a lot of time, Will, and patience with the Redlights to achieve the effect. Still though, the fact that people who were paralyzed or maimed even beyond magical healing now had a chance to walk again was something to be proud of, as far as Saga was concerned.

He blushed and waved off her comments. “I just want to make something useful so I can protect people, like Father did.” He looked at her again. “Maybe I’ll be able to join you on your travels. You’re useless without me, after all.”

He flinched when she punched him in the shoulder, though they both laughed. “‘Useless’, huh? You sure you’re not just going to miss your big sister while she’s off becoming famous?” She grinned again. The two had always been close, and when she’d gone off to the Academy, she ended up treasuring the little time they spent together all the more.

“I’m not sure you’ll survive long enough to become famous, the way that mouth of yours gets you into trouble,” Epic said, snickering.

She gaped at him incredulously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Epic laughed and shook his head. “You’re going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at some point and be run out of town. Or end up on the wrong end of a sword.”

She rolled her eyes as they approached the plaza. “Please, I can be diplomatic. That’s part of a bard’s job.”

“Sure.”

She punched his shoulder again as they arrived at their usual place. Their parents had already claimed a table and were talking softly, the still-wrapped sandwiches sitting in front of them. They both looked up as their children sat at the table. Saga pulled the last two sandwiches out of the basket, handed one to her brother, then began to eat.

The family ate together for a time, enjoying Alders’ handiwork, and it was some time before Mama finally broke the silence. “So, what can you tell us about your trial?”

“I’m going with Master Dorrin to a village called Dove’s Landing,” she said between bites, “I’ll be gone for most of a week.”

“You don’t get to go solo?” Epic replied, shocked.

“That’s what I said!” Saga couldn’t help but pout. The more complicated trial should be a badge of honor, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to be babysat the entire time. “Apparently he doesn’t think I’m ready for the trial, and this was the only way he’d approve of it.”

Their parents shared a look again, but this time Mama spoke, meeting Saga’s eyes. “I wouldn’t judge him so harshly. He’s a good teacher, and Papa trusts him. I also don’t believe he’d be bringing you with him if he really didn’t think you were ready.”

Lorana Vance was a people person, with greater insight than her husband on dealing with them. She also didn’t allow her children to overwhelm or charm their father to get their way. She usually saw more of a person than anyone else, so Saga trusted her judgement and nodded, but continued to sulk as she ate her sandwich.

Alder had thrown together a good lunch for the little time it took him. Dried meat, a local cheese Papa especially liked, and some leafy greens were put between two halves of a roll. Simple, but nutritious and convenient. One by one they finished their food and began chatting idly with each other. Mama and Papa shared updates on Epic’s enchanting work, Papa explained to Saga what he’d been working on - a fancy grate for a Councillor’s window, apparently - and Saga herself gave them the full story of what had happened that morning—minus the encounter with the fruit seller—and where she and Master Dorrin were going the next day.

Papa nodded. “Dove’s Landing is a steady source of good wood. Missing shipments are bad news. Glad Master Dorrin is going to investigate.” He shot his daughter an apologetic glance. “And you, of course.”

“He says I’m to do the talking. I don’t know much about economics outside of our basic Academy lessons, so hopefully that’s not the problem.” Saga took a drink from her canteen and stared out over the farmland beyond the walls. It was just the right time of day for Beacon Falls to be lit up, and even after growing up here for years, the sight of the twin falls becoming pillars of light was still beautiful. “I’m not sure what else it could be, though.”

“Maybe it’s the bandits he mentioned? They’ve been increasing in number for years, ever since the plague.” Mama said, giving Papa a concerned look.

His brow furrowed. “It’s always possible. Balorn’s been regaining their strength, but not fast enough. Places like Dove’s Landing are too far from their capital for regular patrols. They need permanent guards.” He thought silently for a moment, then looked at Saga. “I’m going to give you a letter to take with you. We can loan them some of our Guards until King Frederick can take care of them himself. To that end, I’ll send a message directly to him informing him of the situation and offering our support if needed.” He looked to his wife, grinning. “We can help our friends next door and turn a profit as well.”

She nodded her agreement. “I think it’ll benefit everyone except the bandits, love. An excellent idea.”

Saga ignored the two as they talked, and reclined in her chair. She knew all this talk of work was important, but she’d hoped to spend her last day resting, or at least preparing for the trip. She checked the sun’s position, then looked at her brother. “Have you seen Arty?”

“He was chosen to go to the Red City this morning,” Epic said absently, fiddling with a strap on his greaves. “When I talked to him he was planning on leaving in the morning, and he was working on one of his devices to pass the time. He’s probably still at the Sanctum.”

The Menders’ Sanctum was both the city’s hospital and the training grounds for its alchemists and mages. Arty had been friends with Saga and her brother since they were all children, and she’d attended a lot of the same magical study classes with him. Saga mentally kicked herself for forgetting that his trial announcement was also due this morning, but she was happy for him. Going to Merallo to take his journeyman exam and continue his studies had been his dream since he learned of the college there, and he’d worked hard to earn the opportunity.

She knew she had to visit him today, before they both left in the morning. It would probably be years before they had the chance to see each other again. She stood and wished her family well, then remembered something. “Oh, Grandpapa will be joining us for dinner tonight, or so he says.”

Her mother’s face lit up. “It’s been weeks! I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too. Been meaning to talk to him about something.” Papa rumbled, smiling at his wife. “I promise not to make his visit all business, Lore.”

Mama snorted, and Saga fought the urge to do the same. Instead, she smiled and waved once more, then turned to leave. Her eyes fell on her brother, who had finished his meal and was staring silently across the caldera at the Falls. She was struck by the sudden impression that he was avoiding looking at her, but she decided not to say anything for now. Frowning, she walked the southern wall, heading for the Menders’ Sanctum.

What’s gotten into him?