The path to the village smithy wound through a cluster of low, sturdy buildings, each with thick stone walls and roofs layered with thatch. The air smelled of smoke and hot iron, a tang Mihai found oddly reassuring. As he approached the smithy, the sound of hammering grew louder, rhythmic and powerful, punctuated occasionally by a deep, hearty laugh.

Stepping inside, Mihai found himself in a large, dimly lit room filled with weapons, tools, and armor of every size and shape, each piece expertly crafted and carefully displayed. In the center of the room stood a stocky figure, his back to Mihai, a hammer raised high above his head as he worked on a glowing piece of metal.

The dwarf turned, and Mihai took in his appearance—a broad, muscled frame that looked like it had been hewn from stone itself. He wore a sleeveless leather tunic that showed off arms thick as tree trunks, and his face was nearly obscured by a wild beard as fiery red as the embers glowing on his forge. He was a few inches taller than the dwarfs Mihai had seen so far, and his eyes sparkled with mischief beneath bushy brows.

“Aye, well look who it is,” the dwarf rumbled in a thick accent as he set down his hammer and crossed his arms. “Ye’re the lad who fought that vampire-beast, eh?”

Mihai nodded, caught a bit off guard by the dwarf’s booming presence. “Yes, sir. I, uh, I wanted to—”

“Sir? Bah!” the dwarf interrupted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “None of that, lad. Name’s Brokk. Just Brokk. I’m no knight nor lord.”

“Brokk, then,” Mihai corrected with a faint smile. “I was hoping you could help me with some gear. I’m… new here, and I stand out a bit.”

Brokk let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the walls. “Aye, ye look like ye fell out o’ the stars and right onto yer face! Look at ye, all bare and soft like a pup just born!” He circled Mihai, eyeing him from head to toe with a critical gaze. “If ye’re going to be fightin’ beasts like that, we’ll need to dress ye proper.”

Brokk turned to a rack behind him, rummaging through an assortment of armor and equipment. “Red steel,” he muttered to himself. “Tough, light, and good for a lad who’ll be swingin’ weapons left and right.” He handed Mihai a chest piece—a deep red, reinforced with layered plates that caught the forge light.

“Try this on, lad,” Brokk said, grinning as he watched Mihai struggle with the unfamiliar straps. “Ha! Ye’re fumblin’ worse than a squirrel in winter!”

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Mihai laughed, adjusting the chest piece with a bit of difficulty. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this,” he admitted.

“Oh, ye’ll learn, no doubt. Now, gloves an’ shin guards,” Brokk continued, pulling items from various racks and setting them before Mihai. “And here—boots o’ the same red steel. Sturdy, won’t wear out on ye.”

As Mihai tried on the armor, Brokk watched with an approving nod. “Not bad. Ye’re startin’ to look like someone who could take a hit and still get back up.” He handed Mihai a hunting knife, the blade gleaming, the edge sharp enough to split a hair. “That’s for the close work, lad. And here—a flask. Every hunter needs one, whether it’s for water or a bit o’ somethin’ stronger.”

Mihai took the items gratefully, feeling the weight of them in his hands. “Thank you, Brokk. This… this means a lot.”

“Bah! Ye’ve proven ye’ve got more guts than most, lad. Fightin’ a vampire-beast with nothin’ but a stick! Now, just one more thing…” Brokk’s gaze shifted to a far corner of the room, where two swords lay on a wooden stand, their blades covered in a fine layer of dust.

“These,” Brokk said, his tone softer, almost reverent. “My masterpiece. Forged from a meteorite that came crashin’ down years back. Toughest metal I’ve ever worked with, and heavier than a mountain troll. Made ’em as a pair, but no one’s been strong enough to wield ’em together.”

Mihai stepped closer, drawn to the dark sheen of the blades. Each sword was slightly curved, their edges gleaming with a subtle, silvery light that seemed to pulse in the dim forge. He reached out, wrapping his fingers around one of the hilts. The weight was immense, but there was something about the blade that felt right in his hand.

“Think ye can manage ’em?” Brokk asked, a challenge in his voice.

Mihai tightened his grip, lifting the sword with a grunt. The weight was considerable, but with both hands, he found he could hold it steady. “They’re heavy,” he admitted. “But… I think I can learn.”

Brokk’s grin widened. “Aye, I thought as much. Take ’em, lad. They’ve been gatherin’ dust long enough. If ye’re goin’ to be defendin’ this village, might as well do it with proper weapons.”

“Thank you, Brokk,” Mihai said, his voice thick with gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”

“Just don’t let yerself down, lad. Those blades are powerful, but ye’ll need to master ’em, or they’ll be more trouble than they’re worth.” He slapped Mihai on the back with a hearty laugh. “Now off with ye! Got a village to protect an’ a legend to live up to, eh?”

Mihai nodded, slinging the swords onto his back and securing them with the straps Brokk had given him. He felt the weight of the new armor and weapons, a tangible reminder of the responsibilities he now carried. He gave Brokk a grateful nod and turned to leave.

As Mihai stepped out of the forge, he nearly collided with an elder standing just outside—a tall, stoic man with sharp eyes and an unreadable expression. The elder looked Mihai up and down, noting the swords on his back, the red steel armor, and the way he held himself.

“So, ye think yerself a warrior?” the elder asked, his tone dry and slightly mocking.

Mihai shifted, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Not exactly… I’ve never really wielded a sword before. But I’d like to learn, if there’s anyone willing to teach.”

The elder raised an eyebrow, considering Mihai with a thoughtful expression. “Meet me tomorrow at dawn, by the old training grounds on the hill. I’ll see if there’s any worth in you.”

Mihai nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Thank you… sir?”

“Conall,” the elder said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And don’t be late.”

With that, Conall turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the village. Mihai stood for a moment, feeling the weight of his new armor and weapons, the promise of training, and the daunting task ahead. He felt stronger, more prepared—but he knew this was just the beginning.

As he made his way back to his quarters, Mihai couldn’t shake the feeling of purpose that had settled within him. He was no longer just an outsider. He was a warrior-in-training, with allies at his side and a village to protect. And with Conall’s guidance, he would learn the ways of the sword, the weight of his role growing heavier, yet somehow fitting.