The blade was straight and true, medieval in style, but the pommel and crossguard carried subtle flame motifs. Not cartoonish. Just enough to catch the light, to suggest fire without screaming it.
“Oh,” Viv breathed. She leaned closer, studying every line. “Oh, Ben. This is perfect.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, because the prototype's about sixty percent done.” Ben pulled back a canvas drop cloth on the far end of the bench, revealing the sword in progress. The blade was forged and ground but not yet polished to its final finish. The hilt waited for its leather wrapping and final assembly and the Wyvern Fire Jewel hadn’t been attached yet.
Viv actually gasped.
“It's going to be functional,” Ben explained, feeling his pride swell at her reaction. “Not just a prop. When Rowan holds this, it'll have real weight, real balance. It'll feel like what it's supposed to be—a weapon worthy of a king.”
“Aldric's sword.” Viv picked up one of the sketches, her fingers trembling slightly. “This is exactly what I saw in my head when I read the books. Exactly.” She looked up at him, eyes shining. “How did you do it?”
“I read the descriptions pretty carefully.” Ben shrugged, trying to downplay how many times he'd reread those passages through the years, how many sketches he'd thrown away before getting it right. “And I figured if you were going to all this trouble to film an actual avalanche to make it look authentic, the sword should be authentic, too.”
“Can I touch it?” Viv was already reaching for the prototype.
“Carefully. The edge isn't sharpened yet, but?—”
Viv lifted the blade, testing its weight. Her whole face transformed—pure joy. “Rowan needs to see this. Rowan!” She turned, still holding the sword. “Get over here!”
Rowan looked up from where he'd been examining his chainmail. When he saw what Viv was holding, his expression shifted to something like awe. “Is that?—?”
“The Embersword,” Viv said. “Well, the beginning of it.”
Rowan crossed to them in three strides. Viv handed him the blade carefully, and he held it like it was precious, which filled Ben with pride.
“This is extraordinary work,” Rowan said quietly. He moved through a slow practice form—testing balance, weight distribution, the way the hilt sat in his palm. “This is a real weapon.”
“That's the idea.” Ben watched the actor move, pleased to see that his calculations had been right. The sword fit Rowan's build, his reach, the way he carried himself.
“When will it be finished?” Viv asked.
“Two weeks, maybe three. I want to get the engraving perfect on the blade. And the Wyvern Fire Jewel pommel stone—I'm still sourcing the right amber for it.”
Viv was beaming now, the stress of the week melting away. “This is going to be the centerpiece of our production photos. The marketing team is going to lose their minds.”
Ben felt Charlie's presence before he heard her. She'd moved closer, watching the exchange with that quiet attention she brought to everything.
“It's beautiful,” Charlie said softly. “The craftsmanship is incredible.”
Their eyes met, and Ben saw real appreciation there. Not just politeness. She understood what this meant—the hours at the forge, the precision required, the care in every detail.
“Thank you,” he said.
The moment stretched between them, warm and private even with Viv and Rowan right there.
Then Maddie's voice cut through. “Viv? The gates will be opening in twenty minutes and we need to be at the main stage for the sound check.”
Reality crashed back in.
“Right,” Viv said reluctantly. “We should get Rowan into his armor.”
Ben carefully returned the Embersword prototype to its place on the workbench and covered it again. Then he turned to the armor stand where Rowan's chainmail waited, gleaming in the morning light.
“Come here,” Ben said to Rowan. “I'm no Caiden Bramble, but I can help you into the armor.”
Rowan scoffed. “Don't remind me that Duke's going to be here today.”
“Playing nice is part of the job, love,” Viv said, but there was tension in her voice.
