blacksmith of a Thousand tales

Chapter 52: Echoes and Encounters

Reyn and Alistor strolled through Greyhold's bustling streets, the hum of activity forming a lively backdrop. Merchants shouted their wares, the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the metallic tang of forge smoke, and children darted between carts, laughing as they played. Reyn kept a relaxed pace, listening as Alistor rattled off news about the spread of their inventions.

"Your bird golem idea is everywhere," Alistor said, adjusting his glasses. "The capital's mages can't stop talking about it, and I even heard the Duke of Allenthor commissioned a whole fleet of messenger birds for his court. Oh, and your barrier design? It's being tested at the academy for military applications. Not bad for something you whipped up between classes."

Reyn smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Glad to see my work's useful, though I'm still stuck on the teleportation array. Too many variables."

"Too much pressure on a single caster," Alistor added. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

They passed a blacksmith's stall where a journeyman hammered away at a glowing horseshoe. The rhythmic clang of metal made Reyn pause. For a moment, he was back in his father's forge, feeling the heat on his face, hearing the steady cadence of the hammer.

"Still with me?" Alistor asked, snapping Reyn out of his reverie.

"Yeah," Reyn replied, his tone lighter. "Just thinking about the next project. What about you? Any plans?"

Alistor shrugged. "Aside from keeping you from burning yourself out? Not really." He grinned, but there was a glint of genuine concern in his eyes.

They parted ways near the training grounds, where Reyn found Liora mid-session with the Kiba Blades. She moved with precision and grace, the twin weapons glowing faintly as they sliced through targets. Her strikes were clean, each slash accompanied by the soft hum of mana-infused steel.

Reyn leaned against the fence, watching. "Looks like you've been practicing."

Liora finished her final maneuver, the blades crossing in a sharp X that disintegrated the last target. She turned, wiping sweat from her brow. "Practice makes perfect. They're starting to feel like an extension of me now."

Reyn stepped closer, inspecting the shattered remains of the dummy. "Not bad. But remember, the blades are only as good as the hand that wields them. Let the mana flow guide you, not overwhelm you."

"Easier said than done," Liora replied, sheathing the blades. "I nearly lost control last week fighting some mana-infused wolves. The blades kept surging, and I thought they'd rip themselves out of my hands."

"But they didn't," Reyn said, his tone firm. "You adapted, and that's what counts. Keep pushing, and one day those wolves will look like practice dummies."

Liora grinned. "I'll hold you to that."

As Reyn left the training grounds, a bird golem fluttered down from the sky, its polished wings gleaming in the sunlight. It perched on his shoulder and spoke in Alarcus' familiar voice.

"Reyn, I've finally made it to Greyhold. I'm at the adventurers' guild with someone I think you'll want to meet. His name's Kael—a beastkin with enough skill to give most veterans a run for their money. Bring the gauntlet you made. I think it'll be a good match, though you might have to convince him. Oh, and I've got the mithril and wind beast core for Zetsuei. See you soon."

The golem chirped once more before folding its wings and powering down. Reyn turned it over in his hands, admiring the smooth craftsmanship. "Never gets old."

He slipped the golem into his satchel and made his way toward the guild. His thoughts lingered on the wind beast core. If it worked, Zetsuei's power would finally be unlocked. But that much energy came with risks—risks he couldn't afford to ignore.

Meeting Kael

The adventurers' guild was alive with chatter and clinking tankards when Reyn stepped through its heavy doors. He spotted Alarcus seated near the back, casually waving him over. Across from him was a tall, imposing beastkin with wolf-like features.

"Reyn," Alarcus said as Reyn approached. "Meet Kael. He's the reason I sent that message."

Kael's sharp golden eyes appraised Reyn. His scarred arms crossed as he leaned back, sizing up the young blacksmith. "So, you're the genius behind all the rumors?"

Reyn chuckled, playing it cool. "Not quite. I'm just a student of the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales."

Kael tilted his head, intrigued but skeptical. "A student, huh? Why send you, then?"

"Because the master trusts me to handle things like this," Reyn replied smoothly. "If you're serious about working with us, I can take you to one of the workshops."

Kael's ears twitched, but he gave a curt nod. "Lead the way."

---

The Workshop

Reyn led them through Greyhold's winding streets until they reached a quiet alley. He stopped at a plain stone building and placed his hand on a glowing rune etched into the doorframe. The magic flared softly, and the door unlocked.

"Welcome," Reyn said as he opened the door.

Inside, the workshop was a symphony of organized chaos. The forge's residual heat pulsed faintly, casting a warm glow over shelves of rare materials, tools, and half-finished projects.

Kael stepped in, his gaze sweeping the room. "This... doesn't look like a master's workshop."

Reyn smirked. "Appearances can be deceiving. The master prefers to keep things low-key."

Alarcus grinned, clearly entertained by Reyn's charade, but said nothing. Reyn walked to the main workbench and gestured for Kael to join him.

"I haven't made anything for you yet," Reyn said, placing a hand on the table. "I need to understand your fighting style, your strengths, and what you want out of your weapon."

Kael raised a brow. "You mean the master needs to know?"

"Something like that," Reyn replied vaguely. "The master always tailors his work to the individual. But first, I need to know what drives you."

---

The Question

Kael crossed his arms, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

Reyn met his gaze, his tone firm. "Every weapon crafted by my master has a purpose. They aren't just tools—they're extensions of their wielder. If you want something truly special, you need to tell me your goal. What are you fighting for?"

Kael's expression shifted, his usual stoicism faltering for a moment. "Why do you care?"

"It's not just me," Reyn said, leaning forward. "The master won't make weapons for just anyone. He might even ask you to take on a few jobs in exchange. If you're not ready to commit, then this ends here."

Alarcus watched the exchange in silence, his gaze flickering between them. Kael's tail swished once before he leaned on the table, his sharp claws tapping against the wood.

"You want to know my goal?" Kael said, his voice low and steady. "Fine. I'll tell you."