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Chapter 25 - The Blacksmith of Siest

The following morning, Julian set out alongside Harris, who had gathered what he needed in tools and money before heading his own way.

This day was unlike any other—the sun rose crimson, its rays scorching the skin. It was the Crimson Day, an ominous occurrence that came once a year, ever since the catastrophe fifteen years ago that had reshaped the world into what it was now.

Harris departed north to carve out a life for himself, while Julian wandered through the markets and elegant streets of Siest City. Gambel had given him a modest sum of money, and so he stood before a blacksmith's shop, hoping to lengthen the hilt of his blade and commission a sheath—since he had never owned one before. He also intended to ask about the fabled Stormwind Mountains.

Inside, the blacksmith was at work, his skin bronzed by years of heat and his frame broad and solid. When he noticed Julian entering, his face lit up with a rare smile.

"Welcome to my shop! Do you want me to make something for you?" His voice carried the warmth of someone who hadn't seen a new customer in years.

Julian approached, laying his sword on the counter.

"Yes. I'd like to extend the hilt of this sword and have a sheath made. Can you do that?"

The blacksmith examined the weapon carefully, raising it to eye level.

"A single-edged sword," he muttered. "Not many people use these anymore." After a pause, he nodded. "Yes, I can do it, but it will cost you." His gaze shifted from the blade to Julian, measuring him with curiosity.

"I can pay," Julian replied firmly, though in truth he wasn't sure if Gambel's money would be enough. Still, he couldn't risk hesitation.

The blacksmith studied him for a moment longer, then said, "Very well. It won't take long. Can you wait?"

Julian gave a short nod and sat on a chair near the wall.

Half an hour later, the sheath was nearly finished, with only the hilt modification left.

As he worked, the blacksmith glanced at Julian. "This sword is poorly crafted. Do you want me to reforge it, make it truly your own?"

Julian looked at him in surprise. "I bought it cheaply, so that explains the workmanship. If you could reforge it, I'd be grateful."

"Name's Abadi," the blacksmith said firmly. "Don't call me 'sir.'"

Julian blinked at the sudden correction but quickly nodded with a small smile. "I'm Julian. Nice to meet you, Abadi." After a pause, he asked, "Do you know the way to the Stormspire range?"

The rhythmic hammering slowed. Abadi's voice grew heavier. "That place is crawling with beasts. I wouldn't recommend going there."

"I need to know where it is," Julian insisted.

With a sigh, Abadi replied, "I don't want to argue with you. The mountains lie on the eastern-western border, forming a natural divide."

Julian fell silent, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. Abadi glanced at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing, returning to the steady beat of hammer against steel.

Two hours later, the work was done. Abadi handed the reforged sword to Julian.

"It looks brand new," Julian murmured, unsheathing it. Sunlight danced across the polished steel, dazzling his eyes. The sheath had been adorned in black and white, elegant yet sturdy.

"I put a lot of effort into it," Abadi said. "Take good care of it."

Julian sheathed the sword and asked, "How much?"

"Twenty gold notes," Abadi answered with a broad grin.

The price struck Julian like lightning. He had never seen such a sum in his life. His only hope was that Gambel's money would be enough. Slowly, he unfastened the pouch at his side—it felt unusually heavy.

Abadi's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping in as Julian hesitated. But when the pouch opened, both men froze. Inside was a small fortune, far more than expected. Relief and astonishment washed over them at once.

Julian counted carefully. Thirty-one golden notes. With trembling fingers, he handed twenty to Abadi, whose grin widened as he disappeared into the back with his earnings.

Julian remained still, staring at the wealth in his hands. Not long ago, he had been nothing but a poor boy. Now, this much gold belonged to him. He forced himself to breathe, to temper the excitement rushing through his chest, before tucking the pouch securely at his belt. The sword, now gleaming with new life, hung across his back.

His business in the city complete, Julian stepped beyond the gates, turning his path eastward—toward the stormspire range

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