Heat emanated from the fire of the forge. No one dared to go near such a dangerous area except for a specialized artist who reveled in the work environment. A metal shield covered the young man’s face, protecting him from the head of the flames. He honestly didn’t need to wear it—he just wanted to try it out, as it had been sitting in the forge for god knows how long.

  Despite wearing the protective face gear, he wore light clothing that exposed his toned muscles, a result of years spent perfecting his craft. He was heating the axe he was making, preparing to pound the metal into a sharp tool for the carpenters. It was almost done. He set it down on the anvil and grabbed his heavy hammer, ready to slam the metal into shape. With a single lift of his hammer, he proceeded to hammer the metal - making it look like the hammer was no lighter than an ordinary stick from a tree. Next to him, a bucket of water sat, steam was rising as it cooled the hot steel.

  He laid the finished product on the anvil, his expression hidden behind the mask.

  “Rowen!”

  Hearing the familiar voice, the young man looked up and lifted the mask above his head, revealing his sharp brown eyes beneath his tousled maroon hair.

  “What is it, Nathan?”

  Rowen looked at his younger brother. Nathan had indeed inherited their mother’s looks. Compared to Rowen himself, who had sharp features and his father’s knitted brows, Nathan has their mother’s ashy-blonde hair and soft face. Out of the two brothers, it was natural for people to be more drawn to Nathan.

  Nathan gave a little chuckle.

  “First of all, wipe that soot off from your nose, you workaholic.”

  Furrowing his brow, Rowen gave an annoyed expression as he used his arm in an attempt to wipe the soot away. Although it was not entirely gone, his lazy wipe has done its job.

  “Clarissa Lyment, she’s back in town.”

  Rowen’s brows rose. Clarissa Lyment—one of the most renowned witches of the millennium. She was an Alfwyn Witch, a magic user specializing in potion-making and the study of magical materials. Her talent didn’t stem solely from intelligence, but also from her elven heritage—blessed with a lifetime to learn and master her craft.

  “So the old hag’s back already? Hasn’t she been gone for a year?”

  “Yeah I think so.”

  “So, that’s not really news.”

  “Turns out she brought an apprentice with her! Everyone is excited to see who it is that finally won over her favor.”

  Rowen scoffed. Many have sought to have her be their teacher, but she’s denied each and every request. This apprentice of hers is no ordinary person if even The Great Algfwyn Witch Clarissa had her interest peaked.

  “That prideful old hag finally got herself an apprentice?” Although Rowen’s tone seemed unimpressed, his actions said otherwise as he took off his gloves and started to clean up.

  “Clarissa wants to commission a cauldron from you. She’s in the shop waiting for you.”

  “Geh…She comes back and already wants to put me to work.” Rowen sighed.

  Rowen grabbed a clean towel to wipe the sweat and any soot residue on his body. As he walked out with the towel on his neck, the first thing he noticed was that notorious hat. A large blue witch hat, covered with flowers and little orbs of light that danced around it.

  She made sure everyone knew who she was based on her fashion sense. Just one look and he knew the owner.

  “You show up again after an entire year and you want to put me to work?”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The red haired woman looked up, her gaze no longer obscured by her hat.

  “Is that anyway to greet your mother?” she said in a low voice.

  Rowen silently walked over to her at the same time as Nathan poked his head out from the curtains to greet their customer. He looked at her smug face and flicked her on the forehead.

  “Owwwww!!” she dramatically put her hands on her forehead and knelt to the ground. She pursed her lips as she pouted.

  “You’re not my mom.” Rowen said matter-of-factly.

  “Can’t a gal make a joke every now and then?” she whined.

  “Just because you raised us doesn’t mean I have to call you mom.”

  “Aww c’mon don’t be like that Rowie!” She hugged him from the waist like a needy child.

  “I told you to stop calling me that! I’m 23 years old, not 8!” he said as he tried to shake her off.

  Nathan chuckled.

  “Nice to see things haven’t changed at all.”

  Rowen manages to shake her off. The Great Algfwyn Witch Clarissa, a powerful witch who brought down the great Dragon Byrathozor, was actually just a childish and needy woman.

  “Boo, you’re a meanie.”

  “So, why are you back here in Frihus? Heard you got yourself an apprentice.”

  She rose to her feet, and in an instant, her demeanor shifted—from playful and childish to the composed, mature presence she presented in public. Her mage robe fit snugly over her curvaceous figure, cinching at the waist. Intricate floral designs laced the fabric—a signature detail in all her outfits.

  “That’s right. I can’t necessarily teach if all of my materials are back home.” she moved her hair out of her face.

  “Can’t necessarily carry a heavy cauldron around, can I?” she smiled.

  “Don’t you have one at home? Why do you need a new one? Cauldron’s should ideally last around sixty years at minimum.”

  “Oh honey, it’s not for me. It’s a gift for my cute little apprentice.” She said with a smile.

  “Speaking of which, Miss Clarissa, who's your apprentice? They must be a great person if you agreed to teach them.” Nathan excitedly chimed in.

  Clarissa let out a smug laugh. With a proud expression she said, “Actually I recruited her.”

  Rowen raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s actually running some errands for me as we speak. She’ll be here soon any moment-”

  The storefront door swung open and the bell on top of the frame chimed. Sunlight poured in, so blindingly bright that the two brothers could only make out a silhouette against the glare. The figure was unusually tall—and … square?

  “Oh there she is! Done shopping already?”

  “Miss Clarissa, I brought the required books, but it looks like the robe is a bit too—”

  The apprentice had barely stepped into the shop when her foot caught the hem of her robe. Her silhouette shifted oddly, revealing that her seemingly square figure was actually just a massive stack of books she was trying to balance.

  Before anyone could react, she stumbled over the trailing fabric. The books launched into the air as she went down face-first.

  The room was silent as she laid on the floor unmoving. Then the last book that was still midair hit right on the head.

  Rowen had a single thought.

  This was her chosen apprentice?

  ====

  A/N: I should be writing other stories but I really just wanted to write a cute romance story! T_T Let me know what you think, it'll be my first time writing romance since I was in 8th grade. LMAO