The night settled over Ravenshire like a soft blanket, wind whispering through the trees outside Coerl's home. Inside, the forge lay dark and cold, tools neatly arranged for the next day. A single lantern cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, illuminating the polished surfaces and scattered scraps of metal.
Elara perched on a wooden stool, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes darted to her grandfather, searching for even the smallest crack in his stern demeanor.
"Grandfather… why didn't you teach me the monster material integration?" she asked, her voice trembling between frustration and curiosity.
Coerl looked at her over the rim of his glasses, his expression firm, almost like iron itself. "You're not ready, Elara."
[Not ready? But Hunnt—he's already…] she thought, frowning. "But… look at how Hunnt is learning. Why can't I—?"
Coerl's gaze stayed sharp and unwavering. "No. You need patience and understanding first. It's too advanced for you."
Elara huffed, crossing her arms stubbornly. A small pout formed on her lips. "Fine… but then… what's with the gauntlet Hunnt is making?" Her eyes flicked toward the faint memory of sparks she had seen earlier at the forge. [It looked like armor… why is he concentrating so hard?]
Coerl's lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Better if Hunnt tells you himself."
Elara leaned forward, bright eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pretty please, Grandfather?" she whispered, batting her eyelashes dramatically.
Coerl's expression didn't budge. "Seriously… no."
Undeterred, Elara scooted closer and rested her chin on her hands, pulling out the ultimate weapon from her arsenal: puppy eyes and the softest pout she could muster. [This works every time… he can't resist it.]
For a brief, almost imperceptible moment, Coerl's stern facade wavered. His hands twitched slightly, a subtle shake betraying his inner amusement. Elara's grin widened, sensing victory. [Still got it…]
Coerl shook his head, a deep chuckle escaping his throat. "You are relentless, lass. Truly relentless. But… no. Not tonight."
Elara's jaw dropped in mock horror, eyes widening as she let out a dramatic, "Aarrrgghh!" Her voice echoed lightly through the small room, bouncing off the walls lined with tools and scraps of metal.
Coerl threw his head back and laughed, the deep, hearty sound filling the room. "You've got spirit," he said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "I can see Hunnt inherited his determination from somewhere."
Elara's pout deepened, but the corners of her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. [I'll get it one day… I just have to prove I'm ready.]
The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, the warm glow of the lantern reflecting off the polished tools and casting long, dancing shadows across the room. Outside, the wind howled softly, but inside, there was warmth, laughter, and the subtle promise of lessons yet to come.
Elara leaned back on her stool, a glint of mischief still in her eyes, but a new resolve burning brighter beneath it. [Tomorrow, I focus. I'll show Grandfather I'm ready… and maybe, just maybe, I'll catch up to Hunnt.]
Coerl, observing quietly, chuckled again, shaking his head in quiet amusement. "Lass… you're going to make a fine blacksmith yet. But patience… always patience."
Elara's gaze wandered to the darkened corner where she imagined Hunnt working on his gauntlet. [It looks so… precise… like armor shaped for his arm. One day, I'll know what he's thinking. One day, I'll craft my own creations too.]
The night stretched on, filled with warmth, quiet laughter, and the unspoken bond of a grandfather and his granddaughter—one that would guide both of them through countless lessons, sparks, and the forging of new paths.
Outside, the wind carried the faint smell of smoke and molten metal, mixing with the crisp night air. Inside, Elara's thoughts raced ahead, imagining the day when she could handle monster materials, design her own weapons, and finally share the secrets that Coerl had reserved for Hunnt.
[Tomorrow is mine…] she thought, curling her fingers around her knees. [I'll be ready. I'll be strong. And I won't stop until I am.]
The lantern flickered once, casting a final shadow across the walls lined with hammers, tongs, and scraps of steel. And somewhere in the quiet, the promise of new sparks—both in metal and in hearts—waited to ignite.
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