Benson the Blacksmith didn’t have a door. A tarp stretched out at the entrance as an awning. It was only to be used in bad weather, protecting the supplies and weapons and work areas in the front.
For the last year, the tarp had remained.
The shop comprised a few different stalls, remnants of the previous marketplace there two decades ago. He had modernized them with an addition in the back where the forge stood.
Down the center, the corridor led back and deeper into the bowels of his hellish shop. Terena’s face and neck beaded with sweat. Steam danced everywhere and the sounds of hissing sent up fresh bursts of vapor in its wake.
Tools of his trade lined the walls, along with the finished and unfinished works of his labor. He had an apprentice, Mello, who skulked around with a stoop Terena thought owed more to his height than his having to bend over often for his work. The man was close to seven feet if he was an inch, and the low ceiling was no friend to him.
“Where is your master?” Croak asked the giant after he’d yanked off his hat. Mello didn’t look up from his work. Instead, he grunted something and motioned with his left shoulder.
Croak moved past him, mumbling. Terena followed down a ramp leading to a room in the back. Much wider than the front of the shop,the room had a large forge in the center, anvils and various sized molds on either side.
A long workbench with a couple of old stools made up the far wall. Leather aprons set on hooks to the right where the master blacksmith stood.
“Your order, good sir,” Terena said as she dropped a large satchel on the workbench along the back wall.
Benson grunted but did not look up. He yelled for Mello, and the big man lumbered over.
“Grab the payment for the Nesky contract,” he said.
Mello blinked, turning without a word and went back out to the front. Benson struck his hammer down twice more on the blade he held against the anvil, then lifted a hand to his brow. Covered in soot and grime and sweat, he smelled worse. “Expected you weeks ago,” he said.
“Trouble with the weather. The road through Coleta was blocked with snow, so we went south through Belle Forest.”
“Commotion outside,” Croak said as Benson continued to work.
The older man turned and set the blade in the fire. “Didn’t ‘ear a commotion bein’ back ‘ere and all,” he said with a sigh. He pulled the glowing steel out of the fire and brought it back to the anvil. “But, aye. Commotions gettin’ real regular just lately.”
“Lots of soldiers out there.”
“Aye,” he grunted, going back to his work.
“Any reason for it?”
Benson shrugged. “Another one o’ those commotions I’s tellin’ ya bout.”
“Is that commotion related to anything specific?” Croak prodded.
“Reckon they’re lookin’ for gods.”
“Ha!” Croak quickly hid his grin behind his hand. He looked over at Terena and mouthedsorryat the look she gave him.
“No such thing as gods anymore, old man,” Terena said, staring daggers at Croak.
“Must’ve forgotten,” Benson remarked. He dropped the hammer towipe at his sweaty forehead. “A thousand years since they roamed, now stirred up all over again.”
“Those were the general’s men,” Terena said as she stared at her fingernails. “Is he acting on orders from the emperor or is it his own mania driving him now?”
“Ye’d know better’n me.”
“When did they come?”
Benson shrugged, wiping his hands on his leather apron. “Two nights, mebbe?” He nodded at her with narrowed eyes. “Think it might ‘ave somethin’ t’do with the new king?”
Terena snapped her head up. “New king?”
“Ya ‘ear nothin’ ‘bout the new king in the northern provinces?”
