Leaving the administrative square behind, Shion and Eren followed the sound of hammer against steel deeper into the city.
The further they walked, the more apparent Keleushila's purpose became. Smoke drifted from rows of chimneys, and the smell of burning coal lingered in the air, drowning out the scent of fresh bread from nearby bakeries. Men pushed carts piled with iron bars from one workshop to the next, while apprentices hurried through the streets carrying bundles of charcoal, leather straps, and unfinished spear shafts.
The first forge they entered was a stone building with its front left open to the street. Inside, a broad-shouldered man worked a glowing breastplate beneath a hammer while three apprentices hurried about the workshop. One worked the bellows without pause, another carried fresh iron from a storage rack, and the youngest struggled to drag a bucket of water toward the quenching trough.
The blacksmith spared the newcomers only a brief glance. "If you've come to place an order," he said between hammer blows, "I'm afraid you'll have to try somewhere else."
Shion waited until he lowered the hammer before speaking. "We're only looking to purchase a sword and perhaps a few pieces of armor."
The smith gave an apologetic shake of his head. "I'd help if I could." His hammer rose again. "But I can't."
Realizing they would get no further, Shion inclined her head. "Thank you for your time."
The blacksmith answered with a tired smile before returning to his work.
The second workshop proved little different. Its owner listened politely before spreading both hands in apology. "Everything we finish already belongs to someone else."
"The city?" Eren asked.
"The city. The Crown. Makes little difference these days." He offered them a regretful smile. "I haven't had a sword hanging on that wall for nearly a month."
Outside once again, Eren looked back through the doorway. "I thought this city was famous for its smiths."
"It is."
"Then where's everything they're making?"
Shion glanced toward a wagon rumbling past beneath a load of spear shafts. "I think we just saw the answer."
They continued on. The third forge greeted them with a wave toward the door before either of them had spoken more than a sentence. "Nothing for sale."
The fourth never gave them the opportunity. The elderly woman tending the counter simply smiled wearily. "If you're looking to buy, save yourself the walk."
By then they had crossed much of Keleushila. Everywhere they turned, soldiers drilled in open yards while wagons laden with armor disappeared behind storehouses bearing the royal seal. Several recruits paused long enough to watch the two mercenaries pass before an instructor's shout pulled their attention back to the drill. A handful of guards followed the pair with measured looks, though none considered two passing mercenaries worth stopping.
Eren rubbed the back of her neck. "I think that's enough."
Shion looked ahead. "There are still a few streets we haven't seen."
Eren followed her gaze before sighing. "One more."
Shion looked at her. "The next one we find."
A few streets later they reached another forge, smaller than most of the others. Instead of the steady shouting that filled the previous workshops, only the measured rhythm of a single hammer echoed from inside. A dwarf stood over the anvil, his gray beard tied neatly beneath his chin while sparks danced around him.
Shion waited until he finished the strike before speaking. "Good afternoon."
The dwarf lifted the hammer again. "Afternoon."
"We were hoping to buy some equipment."
"I wish I had some." He said it so casually that Eren frowned.
"You... wish you had some?"
The dwarf chuckled. "I'd have sold it yesterday." The hammer struck again. "And the day before that."
Eren exchanged a puzzled look with Shion before turning back. "We've spent the better part of the afternoon walking from forge to forge."
"I don't doubt it."
"And none of them will sell us anything."
The dwarf finally rested the hammer across the anvil. "They can't."
Eren hesitated. "Why not?"
"Because we're behind." He wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from his belt before nodding toward the street outside. "You've seen the drills."
"We have."
"You've seen the wagons."
"Yes."
"The Crown takes priority." He spoke as though explaining something obvious. "If His Majesty's quartermasters ask for five hundred swords, I don't spend a week making six hundred."
Eren nodded slowly.
"I make five hundred."
"And if someone walked in wanting one?"
"I'd tell them what everyone else told you."
Eren looked around the workshop. There wasn't a single finished weapon hanging from the walls. "Still seems strange. Nobody sells anything?"
"Oh, we sell plenty." The dwarf smiled. "To the Crown."
"And if you didn't?"
The smile faded. "I wouldn't stay in business very long." He returned to the anvil. "The Crown doesn't forbid private sales." He shrugged. "But if word spreads that your contracts aren't your first priority, the next royal order will find another forge."
"I understand."
"Most of us can't afford that."
Eren lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry."
The dwarf looked up. "What for?"
"I thought everyone was just turning us away."
"They were." He smiled again. "None of them had anything to sell. You simply happened to be the ones asking."
That finally earned a laugh from Eren.
The dwarf rested both hands on the hammer. "If you're looking for equipment, I'd try another town."
"Keleushila doesn't even have merchants?" Shion asked.
"Not many willing to bring weapons."
"Why?"
The dwarf snorted. "Imagine hauling a wagon full of fine swords across half the kingdom only to discover every smith in town is desperate to finish royal contracts." He spread his hands. "Who do you suppose holds the stronger position when it's time to discuss prices?"
Understanding settled over both women.
"They'd be forced to sell cheaply," Shion said.
"Or haul the whole wagon somewhere else." He gave a small shrug. "Most decide not to bother."
Shion inclined her head. "You've been very helpful."
"I've merely saved you another afternoon."
The two mercenaries stepped back into the street. Neither spoke for a while as they made their way toward the northern gate. The steady ringing of hammers followed them through the city, growing fainter with every street they left behind.
By the time they reached the gate, the smoke from the forges had begun to disappear behind the rooftops. Ahead, the northern road stretched toward the capital.
Without another word, they continued on.