"The guild district," Lucia explained, matching her stride to Clive's. "Most of Marblehaven's craftsmen work within these walls. The church and the Hunters provide protection, and in return, the guild provides... everything else."

  Following his nose, Clive rounded a corner with Lucia close behind and found himself in a small courtyard dominated by a sturdy stone building. Its chimney belched a constant stream of gray smoke that masked the afternoon light.

  "Master Garrett's forge," Lucia said. "He doesn't take many commissions these days. Mostly works for the guild leadership and..." She hesitated. "Special projects."

  They heard the distinctive ring of hammer on anvil and knew they'd come to the right place. As they approached the door, the rhythmic hammering was replaced by the quiet scraping of metal being filed, punctuated by occasional muttered curses that made even Lucia raise her eyebrows.

  Through the doorway, he could make out a figure hunched over a workbench, surrounded by various tools. A half-finished sword hung on the wall, reflecting the forge's dim glow.

  "Ahem." Clive cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle someone working with sharp tools.

  "He seems to be in a mood today," she whispered. "Let me do the talking first. Garret values few things in this world, but we have history."

  "For the last time, I told you church dogs I'd have the blessed reliquaries done by—" The blacksmith turned, but his irritation vanished when he recognized Lucia. "Well, well. If it isn’t Lucia."

  He was older than Clive had expected, with steel-gray hair tied back from his face and burn scars marking his forearms. He wiped his soot-stained hands on a nearby towel before speaking again.

  "Lucia, child. It's been... what, two seasons since you've graced my doorstep?" He stepped towards her, then stopped when his gaze shifted to Clive. "And you've brought a stranger. Armed and curious. Wonderful."

  "Master Garret, this is Clive. He's a..." She glanced at him, unsure how to describe his occupation.

  "Traveling artist," Clive offered.

  "Artist," Garret repeated, voice flat with disbelief. "Strange profession for such dangerous times. And stranger still to choose Marblehaven as your destination, wouldn't you say? When half the town's either fled or turned to lawn ornaments?"

  Clive met the smith's scrutinizing gaze. "I have my reasons for being here."

  The old blacksmith snorted. "Mysterious, are we? Another one with secrets." His eyes narrowed. "Well, keep your reasons. Just don't expect me to care about them."

  "Why have you brought him here, girl? You know I don't forge for outsiders anymore."

  "Clive saved my life from bandits on the northern road," Lucia interjected. "Six of them. He didn't hesitate. Could you help him, Master Garret? As a favor to me?"

  Garret's expression darkened. "Bandits? Surely you haven't been sneaking outside the town walls again. You know it's dangerous."

  "I just needed specialty herbs," Lucia cut him off. "My stocks have been dwindling. Fewer and fewer merchants are stopping here these days. The ones who do charge prices that would make a royal treasurer weep."

  The smith studied her for a long moment before sighing deeply. "Aye, alright. But one day, that recklessness will cost you more than you're willing to pay." He turned reluctantly to Clive. "What do you need, outsider? And don't waste my time."

  "I'm looking for a high-quality dagger."

  "Aye, aren't we all these days." Garret pointed toward the half-finished blade hanging on the wall, its polished metal catching the forge light in blood-red gleams. "Time was, I made swords for ceremonies and collectors. Pretty things for peaceful men to hang above their hearths and brag about at feasts."

  His voice turned bitter as he picked up a small, sharp blade from his workbench. "Now every merchant wants a hidden knife, every mother wants steel at her hip, and the church wants weapons disguised as holy relics. Even children carry sharpened sticks beneath their cloaks."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "I merely wish to study it, for my craft." Clive gave a simple, honest reply, gesturing to his artist's satchel. "The balance of form and function of steel. Every blade tells a story through its craftsmanship."

  The blacksmith gave a stupefied look. "Study it..." He picked up his hammer. "You have strange hobbies, my friend. Most folks these days aren't interested in studying swords. They're too busy using them, or running from them."

  "It is a passion of mine," Clive explained. "Only by studying can I truly understand. The way a craftsman shapes metal is not so different from how I shape paint on canvas."

  The smith's expression softened slightly at the mention of craft. "Ah, so you're one of those who sees art in everything." He set down his hammer and moved to the blade on the wall, running a finger along its unfinished edge. "Though I'll admit, there's been precious little beauty in my work lately. Too many rushed orders, too many desperate customers."

  He turned back to Clive. "Oh well, whatever brings you here, it's not my place to question my customers. Gold is gold, after all." His eyes swept across Clive's strange clothes as though assessing him. “You do have gold, right...?”

  This stumped Clive. The realization hit him like cold water. He hadn't yet thought about currency in this world. He checked his backpack with panic, but found nothing that could pass for legal tender.

  He considered using his [Draw] skill to manifest gold for a moment, but then he remembered his [Artist Purity] trait. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. But perhaps if he could offer him the daggers that he created.

  "About that..." he began, watching the blacksmith's previously cordial expression sour. "I don't suppose you would—"

  "Ah." The smith's voice cut through Clive's words like a blade. "One of those, are you?" He set down his tools. "Let me guess, you've got a 'special arrangement' in mind? Or perhaps some 'valuable trade goods' that just happen to be elsewhere?"

  The old smith's scarred hands gripped the edge of his workbench. "Do you know how many mouths I have to feed? How much coal cost these days with our manpower dwindling?" His voice grew louder with each word. "Every ingot of iron is worth its weight in gold now, and you waltz in here expecting charity?"

  "If you could listen to me for a second, what if I could offer to help produce some of your equipment?" Clive started, but the smith was already moving toward him.

  "Out," he growled, his voice starting low but quickly rising to a thunderous roar. "OUT!" He jabbed a thick finger toward the door, his face flushing red beneath the soot stains. "We only serve paying customers here. I've had enough of folks who would waste an honest craftsman's time with empty promises and grandiose claims."

  Lucia stepped forward. "Master Garret, please, Clive is different."

  "And you," he turned on her, decades of affection momentarily eclipsed by rage, "bringing charlatans to my door when you know what's at stake. When you know what we've lost."

  Clive considered walking away, finding another smith in another town. But perhaps a practical demonstration might convince him.

  He reached slowly into his pack and pulled out his sketchbook, flipping it over to a drawing of a dagger he had drawn in the morning.

  "Clive,” Lucia’s eyes were wide with anticipation. “Are you going to do that thing again?”

  Garret stared at the drawing in confusion. “If you think your fancy drawings are going to —"

  A bright light filled the room.

  [Draw analyzing creation...]

  The air around Clive began to shimmer, and a dagger materialized in his outstretched hand, identical in every detail to the one in the drawing.

  [Item created: Steel Dagger (Normal Quality)]

  Garret stared at the weapon, his face turning pale. He stumbled backward until he found his stool, sinking onto it heavily. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally found his voice.

  "Impossible," he whispered. "Thirty years at the forge, and I've never..." He looked up at Clive, then back at the dagger. "What are you?"

  “I’m a Pictomancer.”

  “A Picto- what now?” Garret asked

  "I can create anything I understand," Clive replied, turning the dagger in his hand before carefully placing it on the workbench between them. An offering. "The deeper my understanding, the more perfect the creation."

  Lucia moved closer, examining the dagger with a knowing smile. Unlike Garret's shock, her reaction showed familiarity with Clive's abilities. She caught Garret's bewildered glance and shrugged. "I told you he was different.".

  Garret reached out to pick up the materialized dagger. He tested its weight, examined its edge, and even took a whetstone to test the hardness of the steel. With each test, his expression grew more incredulous. Finally, he pressed his thumb against the edge. A thin line of blood appeared.

  "This is..." he began, then shook his head in disbelief. "This is real. A real dagger." He looked up at Clive. "How? Not even the Archmage of the Arcanum could conjure matter from nothing. The law of equivalent exchange... Who are you, truly?"

  "I told you," Clive replied. ”I’m an artist. So, how about it? If you would be willing to mentor me in the way of blacksmithing, I can create any weapon you design. Tools for your work. Equipment for the townspeople. Anything.”

  Garret set the dagger down. He studied Clive for a long moment, then his eyes shifted to Lucia, seeming to seek her assessment.

  "He saved my life, Master Garret," she said softly. "And he's shown me things I wouldn't have believed possible. If anyone can help Marblehaven now..."

  A slow, reluctant smile spread across Garret's face. "A fair trade, then. My knowledge for your... craft." He wiped his bloodied thumb across his apron and extended his hand to Clive.

  Clive accepted Garret’s hand.

  "Knowledge for creation," Clive affirmed. "A partnership."

  A slow, reluctant smile spread across Garret's face. "Now you're speaking a language I understand. Let’s get started."

  Guild District

  Good Steel. Fair Price. No Nonsense.

  Bring Gold. Get Blade. Questions Extra.

  Guild Members: Standard Rates

  Outsiders: Coin in Hand Required

  GARRETT - BLACKSMITH