Steel and Ink

Morgana gave the instructor a lazy salute, then lifted her right arm. The black mist began to coil again, this time drawing the scythe back into her tattoos like water into thirsty soil. The runes faded into her skin, leaving only the intricate ink winding from her wrist to her shoulder. The yard felt a little lighter without the weapon’s presence.

Without another word, she turned and headed back toward the guild’s main hall, boots crunching over the packed dirt. The Crimson Spear rushed to follow her but she didn't notice.

The receptionist was waiting at the counter, a small, rectangular piece of silvery metal laid neatly before him. It gleamed faintly under the lantern light, its surface oddly soft-looking for something clearly metallic.

“This is your Adventurer’s Identification,” he said. “It’s made from ley-silver. It has the ability to absorb magic. To bind it to you, drop a single drop of your blood on it. After that, no one else can use it.”

“Handy,” Morgana said, pricking her thumb on the point of her quill. A single red bead welled up and fell onto the surface.

The metal rippled like water, then lines of delicate script formed across it.

Name: Morgana Wildrider
Age: 18
Race: Human
Speciality: Mid-range melee
Rank: D

"Congratulations on passing the evaluations and becoming an adventurer."

“Looks official enough,” she said, sliding it into her pouch.

The receptionist gave a curt nod. “Don’t lose it. Replacement will cost you more than just coin.”

Morgana tilted her head. “Threat or warning?”

“Both.”

She smirked faintly, then tapped the counter. “Where can I find a good blacksmith? I need some proper gear. Can’t exactly keep traveling looking like I crawled out of a ditch.”

Before the receptionist could answer, Aiden stepped in from behind her. While she was exchanging information and receiving her ID, the group had caught up with her.

“I know the best one in Althwyn. He’s a bit gruff, but his work’s worth every coin.”

Morgana gave him a slow once-over. “And you’re volunteering as my tour guide, huh? Careful, people might start thinking you like me.”

Aiden grinned. “Maybe I do.”

She snorted. “Bold choice. Lead the way, pretty boy.”

"Well, we wish you luck on your shopping. Aiden, don't be late." Nyra cut in with ice cold tone, narrowing her eyes at Morgana. She then turned around to leave, Lyris, and Darren following behind after giving a nod of farewell.

"I don't think she likes me very much." Morgana hummed, tapping her chin as she watched the three step out of the building, leaving Aiden next to her.

"I'm sure she will get used to it." Aiden said, trying to fill the cliff between the two women.

Morgana gave him a 'Do you seriously believe that?' look before moving to leave the building as well.

The streets of Althwyn were alive with the midday crowd, merchants shouting over each other, the scent of fresh bread mixing with that of hot metal and horse dung. Aiden kept his stride easy, pointing out landmarks as they went.

Market square, a row of taverns he swore were “respectable enough,” and a quieter street lined with better-kept homes.

“Houses in this district cost a small fortune,” he said, gesturing toward a neat row of stone buildings with flower boxes in the windows. “But you strike enough high-paying jobs, you could have one in a few years.”

Morgana gave a dry laugh. “I’ve already got more gold than most people see in a lifetime. I’m just figuring out where to throw it without getting swindled.”

Aiden raised a brow. “Then you’ll fit in perfectly. Althwyn’s full of people looking for ways to spend too much money.”

They turned down a side street where the sound of hammer on steel grew louder. The smithy came into view.

A squat stone building with wide double doors flung open to let the heat out. Inside, a black-bearded, bald dwarf was hammering a glowing blade on an anvil, each strike sending a spray of sparks into the dim air.

At the front counter, a young human girl — couldn’t have been older than sixteen — was carefully arranging daggers on a display rack. She glanced up at them with wide eyes before quickly looking back down.

“This is the place,” Aiden said, stopping just outside. “Dorrik Ironbrow. Best smith in the city. Don’t mind the attitude.”

Morgana smirked. “Sounds like my kind of man. Thanks for the escort.” She gave him a little shooing gesture. “Go run along before you start thinking I’m going to pay you for this.”

Aiden chuckled and leaned against the wall outside while she stepped in.

The heat from the forge hit her immediately, along with the tang of hot metal and soot.

“Oi,” the dwarf grunted without looking up. “If ye’re here t’ browse, talk t’ the lass. If ye’re here t’ waste me time, best be movin’ along.”

“Relax, beard-boy. I’m here to make you money.” Morgana leaned casually on the counter. “I want to place a custom order. Leather armor, reinforced but light. Needs an opening in the back for… mobility.”

Dorrik’s eyes flicked to her, sharp and appraising. “Mobility, eh? That code fer ‘ye’re too clumsy fer plate’?”

“Code for I don’t like choking on my own sweat,” she shot back.

The girl at the counter ducked her head, clearly hiding a smile.

The dwarf let out a low grunt that might’ve been amusement. “Aye, fine then. I’ll take the job. Could use a wee challenge. It’ll run ye fifty gold pieces. Half now, half on delivery. Two weeks.”

"You make it in one week and I pay you full right now with the promise of visiting you whenever I need an armor or weapon adjusting."

The dwarf rubbed his beard, thinkin’ a moment before noddin’. “Deal struck, lass.”

Morgana reached into her pouch, dropped a small stack of gold on the counter, and then tilted her head. “While I’m here… mind appraising something for me? I’ve got a scythe that’s… not exactly from around here.”

Dorrik set his hammer aside. “Scythe, ye say? Let’s have a gander at it.”

She raised her right arm, letting the mist curl up from her tattoos until it solidified into the Scythe of the Fallen Moon. The runes glowed faintly in the forge light, the black blade gleaming like it had just been sharpened.

The dwarf stared at it, and for a long moment, said nothing at all.