The next morning started early with a request from Allyson, handed to me while I was still halfway through breakfast. Apparently, I’ve gained a bit of a reputation for doing the impossible. That’s on me. I should’ve kept quiet, but these three women wouldn’t let me. Not that it matters, they’re all still sound asleep while I go through the requests.

  The guild’s list is surprisingly light. Just one job: repair four mithril candle holders that got dented years ago. And now someone had to go and admit they could forge mithril. Yeah, I’ll fix them after breakfast.

  I set the candle holders aside and turned my attention to something more interesting: a bracelet Allyson pulled from storage. It’s about five hundred years old and made by the engineers who used to work in this tower. Etched inside the band is magescript, three circuits in total. The first one looks like a mana source, though not a battery exactly. It seems to draw mana directly from the wearer, likely to power the other two circuits.

  It gave me an idea. If I could build a device that slowly siphons mana from the user to charge a battery, then that battery could serve as a reserve when needed. Marlena could find this helpful. During the last Rift closure, she nearly exhausted herself by pushing too much mana and collapsing. Having a reserve might have made all the difference.

  Something to think about later. Now, back to the candle holders.

  After two hours, I stood in the workshop, staring at the page in my sketchbook. The four candle holders had been repaired a while ago, but with a reception coming up in three days, my wives would need jewelry.

  My eyes kept going back to the sketch I’d drawn the night before. It wasn’t my usual kind of project, no gears, no circuits, no clever tricks. Just a necklace. I’d made necklaces before, but this one… this one was for Marlena.

  Silver branches curved to follow the line of her collarbone, each tipped with a tiny leaf-shaped gem. It looked delicate but had a presence like something taken straight from a forest frozen in moonlight. I didn’t realize when I started that I was designing it for her, but now there was no denying it.

  No enchantments. No mana channels. I hadn’t solved that puzzle yet. This was just mithril and stone, shaped with care. A gift, not a tool. And maybe that made it harder to finish. There was no utility to hide behind.

  I set the sketch down and grabbed the materials. Forging weapons? I could do that in my sleep. But this was different. As I worked the mithril, my mind stayed clear, focused solely on shaping each piece, though a question slipped through.

  “Allyson,” I said without looking up, “back when the engineers were here, how did they travel between the towers? You did say there were more than one?”

  She stepped closer. “Yes. When the engineers left, there were six active towers. They used the gates in each tower.”

  “Gates? Where are they?”

  “They’re on the first floor,” she said with that blank, steady stare of hers. “But, master, they’re currently disabled.”

  “Disabled? Why?”

  When the engineers here left, they all departed together. They left me behind to wait for the next tower master, you, because the gates are controlled from the third tower.

  “Interesting.” I tapped the mithril leaf I was shaping against the anvil, considering. “Do you know where the third tower is?”

  “No, master. This is the sixth tower. The towers were built in specific locations, not in numeric order. My records show that the third tower is east of here.”

  “So when the previous Engineers left, they all went to Tower three?” I asked.

  “Yes, master. On that day, two hundred and thirty-three years ago, my last master left this tower for the third tower alone. He was the last one in this tower at that time.”

  I held up the finished leaf, comparing it to the others before setting it on the bench. “Allyson, have you ever been to another tower?”

  “Yes, master. I visited Tower One once, but that was a very long time ago. However, I can only leave this tower alone for ninety days before my core depletes. After sixty days, I started to weaken. Usually, Tower Masters don’t visit other towers once they take charge. There is a method, though, if the Tower Master becomes the master of multiple towers. Then, those who are aligned with that master will also be connected to the other towers the master controls.”

  “I didn’t know that. So no long travel alone. Sixty days max. If the gates were active, though, that wouldn’t be a problem.” I started assembling the necklace, glancing up at her. “Do all the towers have an assistant like you?”

  “Yes, master. But there is only one Allyson.”

  “I should hope so,” I said with a laugh.

  I wrapped the finished necklace in a clean cloth, set it beside the candle holders, and left the workshop. Allyson followed at my side, silent as always.

  In the kitchen, all three of my wives were already awake, halfway through their breakfast. I set the candleholders on the table and then placed a small, wrapped bundle beside them.

  Marlena sat in a robe, lazily stirring her tea. I stepped behind her. “So, we’ve got this reception in three days. Will all three of you be ready for a snazzy night out on the town with me? Rubbing elbows with royalty?”

  Seraphina giggled. “Sweetie, we’re going shopping today. New gowns. Nothing we have will work.”

  “I figured as much,” I said. “But, Marlena, you might want to choose a gown that goes well with your new necklace.”

  I set the cloth in front of her and unfolded it. The silver branches caught the morning light, scattering it across the table. Allira and Seraphina gasped at the sight.

  “Don’t worry,” I said with a grin. “I’ll make two more. I have sketches, and you can each choose your preferred design. But this one…” I looked at Marlena, “…this one I made with you in mind.”

  I lifted the necklace and moved closer. Marlena pulled her robe aside, revealing her collarbone. I clasped it at the back of her neck, letting the necklace rest just above her breasts. It fit perfectly, catching every flash of sunlight.

  The other two were already giving me matching stares. “So,” they said almost in unison, “when are we getting ours?”

  I pulled my sketchbook out from under the candle holders, placed it on the table between all three, and flipped it open. “Pick one each,” I told them. “I’ll start tomorrow morning.”

  Marlena’s fingers brushed the necklace. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” While the other two flipped through the pages, trading quiet comments, I just stood there a moment, watching the way the mithril leaves framed Marlena’s smile.

  It was late morning when I finally left and headed toward the guild forges. As soon as I stepped out of the tower’s front doors, that prickling sensation struck the back of my neck, the one that signals you’re not alone. Eyes on me. I didn’t see anyone obvious, but the feeling lingered like a faint itch between my shoulders.

  Besides that, the walk with Allyson was uneventful. Street vendors were calling out their morning specials, apprentices carried armfuls of packages while running errands, and the aroma of fresh bread wafted from a bakery two doors down.

  The guild hall entrance was packed. The first of the month always drew a crowd of people from across the kingdom, hoping to test their skills and earn a place. The air inside was loud with overlapping conversations, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional clang from the forges out back.

  I walked to the main desk and asked for the Guildmaster.

  Mira appeared from the staircase almost immediately. Barely eighteen, the guild’s young receptionist moved with quick, practiced efficiency that showed she was used to keeping things running smoothly. Her dark hair was pulled into a tidy braid that swayed against the back of her pale blue guild tunic, and a small ink stain marked the side of her cuff, proof she’d been working before I arrived. “My lord Robertson, the Guildmaster is upstairs in his office waiting for you. I’ll take you there now.”

  Several people in the hall turned at my name, their faces curious. I told myself I was imagining the extra attention, the feeling of being followed, but it didn’t help.

  I followed Mira upstairs. She opened the office door, and the smell of ink and parchment hit me.

  The Guildmaster’s office was spacious yet crowded, a place where every flat surface had been overwhelmed by stacks of documents. Cabinets lined the walls, some open to display tools, spare parts, and boxed contracts. A wide window allowed in pale sunlight, which caught on dust motes floating in the air. The focal point was a large desk made of polished brown oak, sturdy enough to withstand a siege, though most of its surface was covered with paperwork.

  Behind it, Guildmaster Verran sat hunched over, pen scratching as he worked through another form. His brow was deeply furrowed, casting shadows, and he had the tight expression of a man who’d been doing the same task too long.

  I set the two repaired candle holders on a nearby table. “Verran, hello there. I’ve finished those candle holders. How are things going? I see you are a little busy.”

  “Overworked,” he said without looking up, signing his name with a sharp flick. “And since the Rift closed, we’re getting requests left and right.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I have some time today. My wives are out shopping for gowns for the upcoming reception,” I said.

  “So you snuck out?” Verran asked.

  “They know where I am. So, what can I do for you?”

  He stood, walked around the desk, and put a hand on my shoulder. Sure enough, I felt like I was about to get roped into something. Here it comes… “My favorite blacksmith. How would you like to judge some up-and-coming smiths?”

  “You think I’m qualified?” I asked, feigning a shocked expression.

  He laughed, guiding me toward the door. “David, my master smith, you’re overqualified. And I need you. Are you willing?”

  By the time I managed a “yes,” we were already at the receptionist’s desk, where Mira waited.

  “Mira, can you give David here the folder for today’s candidates?”

  “Yes,” she replied, pulling a leather folder from under the counter. “Here is the current list of six individuals. Four are seeking journeyman, and two are looking to be graded as full smiths.”

  I took the folder and scanned the names. Two I recognized from the guild forges; the others were strangers to me. “Thank you, Mira. So, Verran, where are these candidates? Also, I’d like to proctor their exams in the guild forges.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I can administer all the exams at once,” I replied.

  “That’s not normal, but if you follow the testing rules, it shouldn’t make a difference.”

  We headed over to the candidates. I introduced myself, “Hello, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Earl Robertson, a master blacksmith. I’ll be your testing proctor today. We’re headed to the guild forges to start your exams. So gather all your stuff, and let’s get going.”

  The large forge hall was quiet when we arrived, but the air still carried the heavy scent of coal and hot iron from earlier work. Dust motes floated in beams of light streaming through the tall windows, swirling as we passed by. Rows of anvils and workbenches stood ready, their metal surfaces cool and dark for now.

  “Here are the rules,” I began. “When we start, each of you will choose a forge and create a project appropriate to the rank you’re testing for.” I stepped into the back office and returned with six folded sheets. “In my hands, I have two smith projects and four journeyman projects. Each sheet lists the requested item. You have four hours to complete your project. Ultimately, I’ll assess what you’ve created against the requirements. Materials are on the shelves over there,” I pointed to the far wall, “and extra tools are in those cribs. No talking during the test. If you can’t find something or have a question, I’ll be right here or walking around. If you finish early, please leave your project at your station and take a break. Be respectful of the other test takers if you do finish early.”

  They nodded. I handed out the project sheets based on their chosen levels. The silence was broken as metal clanged against anvils, hammers found their rhythm, and the low roar of the first forges being lit spread throughout the space. The heat began to rise almost immediately, creating a wavering shimmer in the air.

  I wrote down the start time in my notes, then looked at my station. Allyson stood quietly, watching both me and the candidates.

  “Anything from my wives?” I asked.

  “No, master.” I thanked her and began my rounds.

  The first smith was a freckled, brown-haired boy named Jonathan, testing for a journeyman. His project involved making a full set of horseshoes of a specific size and shape. I watched him work for a moment, noticing the confident, steady ring of his hammer. The skill was obvious. In a couple of years, he’d become a good full smith. I nodded in approval and moved on.

  The next candidate was a tall woman, taller than me by a few inches, testing for full smith for the first time. She was forging a bearded wood axe, her green eyes lifting to meet mine as she worked. The sharp clang of steel on steel echoed as she struck, then she returned the piece to the glowing forge.

  “Helpful hint: keep your heat higher,” I said.

  She turned away from the fire. “Thank you.” Her sleeves were rolled up over muscular, tanned arms, the green of her work shirt darkened with sweat.

  The third test taker was working on his second Smith-level exam. He was much older than the woman, about my height, with long hair pulled back into a simple knot. I didn’t recognize him, which meant he had either traveled here or belonged to one of the other smithing guilds in the city. His movements were precise, his attention locked on the small details as he measured and rolled the barrels of the hinges to match the diagram on the request form. Four hours would be enough for him to craft the two hinges and the door latch.

  The next journeyman candidate was a young woman shaping a set of throwing knives. She wore a matching brown shirt and trousers, with a scarf holding her hair back from her face. She focused on making both blades identical, adjusting her hammering so each strike mirrored the last. I guessed she had to be at least eighteen to hold a class, still young, but she carried herself with quiet determination. If she maintains her pace and precision, she’ll pass.

  The last two were twins working at opposite forges. They dressed in similar styles but in different colors; one was making a pair of wood chisels, while the other worked on a fireplace crane. Their hammer control was impressive, with each strike mirroring the other’s. The person who trained them had done a good job. I wanted them all to pass if their skills were truly there. And from what I’d seen so far, they were.

  I returned to my own workstation. When I pulled the projects for the test, I also set aside a couple of my own to finish. The first was an arming sword for the new captain who had been promoted when Allira moved up in rank. I intended it to be something worthy of the occasion. I set steel to the fire, folding and working the metal until it began to take shape under the hammer.

  The steady ring of hammers and the low roar of forges filled the hall, with heat from their fires causing a wavering haze in the air. The metallic tang grew stronger, blending with the faint smell of burning oil. Time slipped away amid the rhythm of work.

  When I finally glanced at the clock on my bench, a couple of hours had passed. That meant the candidates were two hours into their four-hour window. My sword was finished, layered, straight, and true. I tested it with a few light taps, listening for the clear, sweet tone before quenching it in the oil.

  With the blade cooling, I began another slow walk around the room, stopping at each station. Everyone was deeply focused on their projects, and the air was filled with the clang and hiss of their work. Most were close to finishing.

  Mira came over to check on the progress, meeting me at my bench as I wiped the oil off the sword.

  “Lord Robertson, how are things going?”

  “Everything is fine. They should be finishing soon. Oh, could I get some cold refreshments and snacks for them?” She smiled, gave a slight bow, and hurried out.

  By the time she returned, the last of the candidates were completing their projects. They set their finished work on the benches, standing back, faces unreadable.

  I began the evaluations. Jonathan’s horseshoes matched the request almost exactly close enough for a journeyman. Ninety percent. The bearded axe had excellent, solid welds, good balance, and a true edge. Ninety-five percent.

  One by one, I reviewed each project, recording scores and noting small observations before returning the sheets. “Everyone, let’s gather by Allyson,” I called. They moved slowly, fatigue visible in their steps. “There are refreshments for everyone.”

  They grabbed drinks and snacks, and the tension in their shoulders eased. “First off, everyone passed their tests.” Relief washed over them, and they stood taller.

  I explained their scores, the passing marks, and the notes I’d left for improvement. The tall woman picked up my arming sword, whistling.

  “When was this made?”

  “Today, while you were working on the axe,” I said.

  “By the Gods, that’s impossible.”

  The other Smith candidate grinned. “That’s a master smith for you.”

  She laughed. “Are you taking apprentices?”

  “Not at this time,” I said. “But maybe one day. Congratulations, all of you.”

  One by one, they departed until only Allyson and I remained.

  From my satchel, I pulled out a short bar of mithril, its pale sheen catching the forge light in gentle ripples. I placed it on the anvil, the cool metal ringing softly against the steel. Marlena’s face appeared in my mind, her focus when casting, the way spelllight danced in her eyes. I pictured her in the middle of a fight, mana exhausted, still standing her ground. She’d need something small, quick, and deadly then.

  I slid the mithril into the fire. The coals flared white-hot, heat pressing against my face as the metal shifted from silver to a pale, moonlit blue. Pulling it free, I began shaping it into a teardrop blade with a double edge, hammer blows sharp and deliberate.

  “Allyson,” I said over the rhythm of steel on steel, “how much do you know about engineering skills?”

  “Some, master,” she replied calmly and unhurriedly. “But, remember, even engineers kept secrets about their capabilities.”

  I put the metal back in the fire. “I thought so. Is there a skill called Analyze?”

  “Yes, master. It’s a common skill that all engineers develop in one way or another.”

  “So it’s an engineer’s skill?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “I had it before I got my class.”

  “That would be normal.”

  I gave her a quick nod of thanks and reached for a small block of orichalcum. Its golden hue shimmered softly as it heated in the fire, the surface seeming to pulse with its own inner glow. I drew it out into a thin rod, twisting it carefully until the metal curled into a perfect, even spiral. Flexible yet strong, it wrapped snugly around the dagger’s grip, each turn locking into the last.

  When the final wrap was in place, I held the dagger up to the forge light. The mithril blade shimmered like frozen starlight, the edges catching and bending the glow. The orichalcum grip, coiled tight with the twisted wire, drank in the fire’s warmth and returned it in shifting gold and amber hues.

  Satisfied, I banked the forge, letting the flames die down to a steady, ember-deep burn. I wrapped the dagger in clean cloth, the fabric whispering against the cool metal, and set it aside for Marlena. I’d been meaning to experiment with magescript; this could be the perfect piece to start with. The question was what to add?

  Shaking the thought aside for now, I picked up the arming sword and the folder of exam notes, heading toward the front desk.

  The main lobby was even busier than before, the air heavy with overlapping voices and the sharp smell of hot metal coming from the forges. Mira and the other receptionists moved with efficient precision, shuffling papers, stamping seals, and passing forms down the counter.

  Mira spotted me and moved away from a waiting customer, her braid swinging against her pale blue guild tunic. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Mira, I have the results from the exams. Is the Guildmaster still in?”

  “Yes, he’s upstairs in his office. I’ll escort you there,” she said quickly.

  “Don’t worry about it. It looks like you’re busy; I can find my own way.”

  She gave me a slight nod of thanks before turning back to the man in line.

  Before heading upstairs, I became aware of the stares, some curious, some openly annoyed, from the people still waiting their turn. I ignored them and turned to Allyson. “Do you remember the way to the Guildmaster’s office?”

  “Yes, master. Upstairs, third door on your left.”

  “Thank you. Without you, I’d be lost and embarrassed.”

  “Yes, master. I noticed,” she replied, her tone as even as ever.

  We pushed through the crowd and ascended the stairs, the hustle of the lobby fading into the quiet of the second-floor corridor. When we reached the correct door, I knocked.

  “Come in,” came the faint reply from inside.

  I opened the door and stepped aside so Allyson could go in first. Once she was through, I closed it behind us.

  “So, David, you’re done?” Verran asked from behind his desk, surrounded by his usual fortress of paperwork.

  “Yes. They all did very well. I gave them all passing scores.”

  “I bet you were too soft on them.”

  “Soft?” I raised an eyebrow. “Never. The six of them earned what they got.” I set the folder on his desk. “Here are my notes and their scores, in case you need them. Also,” I handed the guildmaster the arming sword. “Here’s the sword for the new captain. I think it’s a fine piece for him. He has big shoes to fill.”

  Varran took the blade, turning it in his hands so the light reflected off the folded steel. “By the gods, David, even your ordinary work is more than ordinary. You’ve got to stop this.”

  I smirked. “I like what I do.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said, shaking his head as he carefully set the sword aside, probably more deliberately than he realized. “Here, speaking of what you do.” He reached into the pile on his desk and pulled out a thick folder. “These are some requests for you.”

  I took the stack and started flipping through it, scanning the notes and sketches. “We’ll be going to Brackenreach for a short time after the reception. I’ll try to do one or two of these tomorrow. The rest will have to wait unless I find pockets of time here and there.”

  “Not a problem,” Varran said. “There is one marked urgent, and they’re paying extra. Some sort of necklace. The sketch is there as well. Good luck with that one.”

  I thumbed through until I found the request. The royal family’s seal was stamped at the top. My jaw tightened before I could stop it. “From the first prince,” I muttered. “A necklace for his wife for the reception.” Political favors wrapped in pretty trinkets are never my favorite kind of commission. Too many layers are tied together.

  I shook my head with a sigh. “Well, that’s three I need to finish tomorrow.” I tucked the folder under my arm. “Back to the workshop for me. I’ll have this one for you by tomorrow.”

  “Have a good night!” Varran called after me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I just lifted a hand in a lazy wave as I stepped out and closed the door behind me.