The walls of Grenswick Castle towered over the city, mighty but worn by time. The stones were blackened by old fires, the towers broken and rebuilt many times. It wasn't the glorious fortress Duncan had expected... but it was still the heart of the kingdom.
The knight led him through the main gate, between two rows of armored guards. The air was quieter here, but no less heavy: wary eyes followed him at every step.
"The king will receive you soon," said the knight. "But know this: every word here weighs more than steel. It is not only your art that will be judged, but also your loyalty."
Duncan nodded, but he was pondering. Loyalty? To whom? To a kingdom that lets its children starve? Or to a ruler who begs for weapons to continue a war?
It was then that, along the corridor, he noticed something unusual: on a stone pedestal, a rusty sword was suspended in the air, bathed in a faint blue glow.
Duncan slowed.
"What is it?"
A thin voice answered behind him.
"It is a blessed weapon. Forged by a master who knew the secrets of rune magic. Ordinary blades are for soldiers. Ones like this… they turn the tide of battle."
Duncan turned. A young woman, wrapped in a dark cloak, was staring at him. Her emerald eyes shone with intelligence.
"My name is Lyra, advisor to the king. And you must be the stranger everyone speaks of."
Duncan studied her for a moment. She did not look like a mere courtesan: her posture, her aura, even the way she spoke… everything suggested she knew more than she was letting on.
"I am not a stranger," Duncan replied. "I am a blacksmith."
Lyra smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps. But your hands have created what no one here thought possible. And for that, the king will test you."
The doors to the throne room swung open with a bang.
Duncan took a step forward.
Destiny awaited him.