In the pre-dawn hush of Ebonmere village, the clarion calls of roosters sliced through the murmur of awakening farm animals. The villagers, predominantly farmers, were stirring to life.

  On one of the village’s winding, narrow lanes, Edward, accompanied by his taciturn guard, proceeded on foot. As they walked, Edward noticed a lone farmer toiling in his field and decided to engage him in conversation, calculating that the solitude offered a degree of discretion.

  “Greetings, farmer. I trust we aren’t intruding,” Edward said courteously, approaching the villager, who eyed them with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Edward’s aristocratic attire, coupled with the imposing figure of his guard, were not everyday sights in this humble setting.

  “Good morrow, gentlemen. Welcome to Ebonmere. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re strangers here, correct?” the farmer replied, offering a simple smile.

  “Indeed,” Edward responded, returning the smile. “You villagers certainly seem to know one another well.” He chuckled lightly, a gesture mirrored by the farmer. The guard, however, remained impassive.

  “We are merely passing through,” Edward explained smoothly, “and have decided to sojourn here for a few days before continuing our journey.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” the farmer said politely. “How may I assist you?”

  “We are in need of some wheat for bread,” Edward stated. “I imagine you could spare a portion from your harvest.”

  “Certainly,” the farmer replied. “How much would you require?”

  “A sackful should suffice,” Edward said. “Enough for my guard to carry.”

  “A prime sack of fresh wheat it shall be,” the farmer replied, hefting a long, curved scythe. “Just give me a moment to harvest and bag it for you.”

  “I’ve heard tell of a formidable monster hunter who has taken up residence here,” Edward remarked, watching the farmer’s deft movements. “We may require his services on our journey. Do you happen to know anything about him? Any information you could share would be invaluable.”

  “Truth be told, gentlemen,” the farmer said, his brow furrowing slightly, “my knowledge is scant. Rumors link him to old Miller, the innkeeper. I haven’t had occasion for a social drink lately, so my ear isn’t to the ground as much as it should be. But my advice? Seek elsewhere. He’s trouble.” Edward’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

  “Trouble, you say? I’d heard he was quite capable,” Edward countered, feigning nonchalance while his mind raced.

  “I’ve heard whispers that he is accompanying a hybrid, a demon hybrid, no less,” the farmer confided, his voice dropping. “They say he’s protecting her. He even brawled in the inn over her. Poor Larry and his cronies were thoroughly humiliated.” This revelation piqued Edward’s interest considerably.

  “A brawl, you say? Intriguing,” Edward murmured, attempting to elicit more details. “What prompted this…altercation?”

  “Larry the lumberjack,” the farmer explained, pausing to secure the wheat. “He runs a small wood shop near the village entrance, felling trees in the forest with two assistants. I understand they were planning to run the hunter and the hybrid out of town, but it seems their scheme backfired spectacularly.” The farmer finished packing the wheat into the sack, cinching it tightly.

  “Here you are,” the farmer said, handing the sack to the guard. “If you’re keen to learn more, you could speak with Larry himself. He’s close to Miller and might know their business here, if you'd rather avoid the hunter directly. But as I cautioned, even if the hunter is skilled, he’ll likely bring you grief because of that girl. Best find another.”

  “That’s all I know, gentlemen,” the farmer concluded. “I’m a simple man who prefers to steer clear of trouble. I have a family to provide for. Forgive me for not being of greater assistance.”

  “On the contrary, you’ve been most helpful,” Edward replied, presenting the farmer with a sealed pouch heavy with coins. The farmer’s eyes widened, though he refrained from opening it. Its weight spoke volumes.

  “But this is far too generous, sir,” the farmer stammered, surprised.

  “Consider it a token of my appreciation,” Edward said smoothly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I respect a man who aids a traveler in need.” He turned to depart. “Come on,” he instructed his guard, who fell into step behind him.

  “Thank you, sir. You’re welcome here anytime,” the farmer called after them, his gaze fixed on the pouch in his hand.

  “A fortunate day indeed,” he murmured to himself, a broad smile spreading across his face. “To receive such a sum for a mere handful of wheat…”

  At the village entrance, Edward and his guard made their way towards Larry’s shop, easily identifiable at the street corner.

  “There it is, Mr. Edward,” Shisk observed. “I believe this is the place. Notice the stacks of timber out front.” Edward confirmed the shop’s location, and they approached.

  An almost eerie stillness hung in the air, broken only by the chirping of birds – the typical quiet of Vidin’s villages. They reached the shop’s entrance and found the door firmly shut.

  Edward rapped on the door, but received no response. He knocked again, this time more forcefully. Shisk, meanwhile, discreetly circled the shop, his eyes scanning the premises.

  “No one appears to be here, Mr. Edward,” Shisk reported, returning to Edward’s side. “Their tools aren’t inside. I can see the equipment chest through that window.”

  “What makes you so certain they store their tools in that particular chest?” Edward inquired.

  “My father was a lumberjack,” Shisk explained. “I often saw him keep his equipment in a similar container.” Edward regarded him silently for a moment.

  “What’s your name, guard?” Edward asked.

  “Shisk, Mr. Edward,” the guard replied. Just then, he noticed some villagers passing by and hailed them. “Excuse me,” he called out. “We’re not from around here and are looking to purchase some wood. We were told to speak with Larry. Is this his shop?”

  “Indeed it is,” one of the villagers confirmed. “But they’re not here at the moment. They’re in the forest now, felling trees. They usually return late in the afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” Shisk said politely.

  “You’re welcome,” the villager replied, and the group continued on their way.

  “What are your wishes now, Mr. Edward?” Shisk inquired. “Shall we wait for their return?”

  “No,” Edward replied. “It’s still a few hours off. We must return and report to Mr. John before coming back here.”

  “Perhaps we could visit this Miller the farmer mentioned,” Shisk suggested. “That would pass the time.”

  “No,” Edward stated firmly. “I want nothing to do with the innkeeper.”

  “But the farmer said the hunter you seek is acquainted with him,” Shisk pointed out. “Why not inquire directly? Forgive my curiosity, Mr. Edward, but I’m still unclear as to why we need a hunter at all. We’re perfectly capable of handling any threat to you or Mr. John.”

  “We don’t need him, Shisk,” Edward corrected him. “We need to eliminate him. And don’t even entertain the notion of confronting him directly. He’s dangerous, extremely so. If you wish to be part of Mr. John’s grand design, you will follow orders without question. I will personally inform Mr. Alphonse of your unwavering loyalty.” Shisk, clearly taken aback by Edward’s sharp words, lowered his gaze.

  “Of course, Mr. Edward,” Shisk murmured. “I am simply happy to serve.”

  “Good,” Edward said curtly. “Now, let’s go.” They turned and headed back towards the village center.

  In Vidin’s capital, close to the palace, precisely in the sprawling armory, the clangor of metal upon metal reverberated through the air. The heat was oppressive, the air thick with the smell of forge and sweat. Here, amidst the diverse workforce of humans and dwarves, weapons were forged for the kingdom’s soldiery.

  One dwarf, powerfully built with a long, fiery red beard and intense features, stood out amongst the throng. His name was Broudgrak. His voice, sharp and commanding, echoed through the armory as he oversaw the blacksmiths’ labors.

  “Strike the plates with greater force if you intend to craft a weapon of worth!” he bellowed.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “That axe blade base is too thin to withstand a solid blow! Melt it down and recast it, adding more silver this time!” he roared in another direction. Broudgrak was clearly the armory’s foreman, his keen eyes observing every artisan’s work, offering guidance and expertise.

  “Broudgrak! Broudgrak!” a human messenger called, rushing down the stairs toward the dwarf.

  “What is it now?” Broudgrak snapped, his gaze fixed on the human. “Did I not instruct you not to disturb me during work hours?”

  “I know, but it’s urgent,” the messenger stammered.

  “What could possibly be so urgent?” Broudgrak growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow in the armory’s sweltering heat.

  “You have an important visitor,” the messenger said, shrinking back slightly, as if anticipating Broudgrak’s wrath.

  “Who?” Broudgrak demanded, his eyes narrowed.

  In a chamber adjacent to the sweltering blacksmith’s workshop, the air was refreshingly cool. The room served as an office of sorts, and Adam stood within, surveying its contents. Suddenly, the door burst open.

  “ADAM! Decided to grace old Broudgrak with your presence at last?” Broudgrak boomed, a wide grin splitting his face.

  “You know how demanding things can be as the King’s personal guard, Broudgrak,” Adam replied, a faint smile touching his lips.

  “That’s no excuse for neglecting me like this!” Broudgrak retorted playfully. “It’s been months since I last saw you, lad. I’ve missed you. Come now, give your old friend a hug!” Broudgrak opened his arms, and Adam, surprisingly, knelt down to embrace him. Their easy camaraderie suggested a deep bond, a stark contrast to Adam’s usual composed demeanor.

  “Come, sit and share a drink with me,” Broudgrak said, releasing Adam from the embrace and moving behind his modest desk.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much time, Broudgrak,” Adam said seriously. “The past few days have been relentless.”

  “Then all the more reason to unwind a bit!” Broudgrak exclaimed. “For the love of the gods, Adam, it’s been ages, and you can’t even spare a moment for a chat?”

  “Alright, Broudgrak,” Adam conceded, a smile returning to his face as he took a seat. “A glass of wine and a conversation with you will do me good.”

  “Now you’re talking!” Broudgrak chuckled, settling into his own chair. “Spend some time with me. I miss the days when you were a bit more…spirited.”

  “The position I hold demands a certain reserve,” Adam explained.

  “I understand, I understand,” Broudgrak said. “Can’t fault you for that. His Majesty trusts you implicitly. It’s something to be proud of, you know.” Broudgrak poured a glass of wine, offering it to Adam.

  “Serving my king is reward enough,” Adam said simply. “It’s my duty, Broudgrak.” Broudgrak beamed at him.

  “Look at you, Adam,” Broudgrak said, his voice brimming with pride. “You’ve come so far. You’re a strong, responsible soldier now. Your father would be immensely proud of the man sitting before me. You dreamed of emulating him, but you’ve surpassed him. You were destined for greatness, Adam, and I have a feeling something even greater awaits you.” Adam’s lips curved into a brief smile, but a shadow quickly passed over his features.

  “I only wish everyone shared your perspective, Broudgrak,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the wine in his glass.

  “Still can’t forgive him, eh?” Broudgrak asked gently.

  “He dismissed me from service for his own selfish gain,” Adam retorted, his voice hardening. “He feared I might outrank him. How can I forget such a betrayal? How can I ever forgive him?” He glared at Broudgrak, his eyes flashing with resentment.

  “Adam, my boy,” Broudgrak said soothingly, “he’s the general, and he was a friend of your father. He was afraid you’d meet the same fate.”

  “Don’t believe his lies,” Adam hissed, his voice low but laced with venom. “He’s a sly.”

  “Come now, it’s been nearly a decade since that incident,” Broudgrak pleaded. “Can’t you let it go and try to reconcile with him? He was practically your godfather, Adam. At least attempt to reason with him.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Adam said flatly. Broudgrak sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes.

  “Still as stubborn as ever,” he muttered. “Well, I won’t argue with you after such a long absence.” Broudgrak uncorked a bottle of rum and took a long swig.

  “How’s work progressing?” Adam asked, changing the subject.

  “The usual,” Broudgrak grumbled. “A bunch of incompetent blacksmiths, with a few exceptions. It’s as if I’ve been cursed with the most inept workers imaginable, just to give me a heart attack. They lack even the most rudimentary skills, and I’m expected to turn them into reliable artisans for the armory.” Broudgrak’s face reddened with frustration, but Adam chuckled softly.

  “You’re the best there is, Broudgrak,” Adam reassured him. “That’s why the general entrusted you with training the armory’s blacksmiths. You have the talent and the patience.”

  “They’d better send me some decent recruits after this lot,” Broudgrak retorted sarcastically. “They can’t even forge an axe blade properly! They’re making toys for children down there!” Adam laughed again, a quiet, amused sound.

  “Enough about me,” Broudgrak said, his tone softening. “I’m just an old dwarf waiting for his time. How are you doing these days? How’s Gena, by the way? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She’s well, Broudgrak. Thank you for asking,” Adam replied.

  “She’s a lovely woman, and she clearly adores you,” Broudgrak said sternly. “You’d better be treating her right, or I’ll personally crack that thick skull of yours.” Adam fell silent, a troubled expression creeping across his face.

  “Did I say something wrong, lad?” Broudgrak asked, concerned.

  “I just realized I haven’t seen her in nearly a month,” Adam said, a hint of worry in his voice.

  “Now you’re being truly foolish,” Broudgrak said, his tone laced with concern. “Is something amiss between you and your wife?”

  “No, it’s just… I’m usually not home much,” Adam explained, “but I’ve been exceptionally busy lately with the king’s affairs. I completely forgot about spending time with her.”

  “You don’t even have time to speak with your wife?” Broudgrak demanded, his voice rising. “She’s here in the capital! It wouldn’t take much to check on her well-being. What is your problem, Adam?”

  “I’ve been conducting several investigations and organizing other crucial matters for his majesty,” Adam explained. “I even came here to ask you something related to one of these investigations.” He pulled a small bottle from his pocket – the metal polishing liquid he’d found at Jaxith’s house.

  “Is that the reason for your recent absence?” Broudgrak asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Yes,” Adam confirmed. “His Majesty tasked me with locating someone important, and I’ve been searching tirelessly. I’ve finally uncovered a few leads that might prove fruitful.” He held the bottle, but kept it concealed from Broudgrak’s direct view.

  “Who’s the unfortunate soul His Majesty specifically ordered you to find?” Broudgrak inquired. Adam remained silent.

  “Fine, fine,” Broudgrak said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “You can’t talk about it. I understand.”

  “Forgive me, Broudgrak,” Adam apologized. “You know the sensitive nature of my position. But I assure you, this is something monumental.”

  “As long as you’re being careful,” Broudgrak said, his tone softening, “then I’m satisfied. Now, tell me, what do you need from me?” Adam calmly placed the small bottle on the desk between them.

  “What’s this?” Broudgrak asked, picking up the bottle and scrutinizing its contents. “Is it some kind of polishing agent?”

  “Precisely. That’s primarily why I came to see you,” Adam confirmed.

  “So, what’s the story with this?” Broudgrak asked, turning the bottle over in his hands. “I can see it’s different from the usual polish we use. The color is much deeper, and the viscosity is higher. It’s quite intriguing. Where did you find it?”

  “I discovered it in the home of the person I’m searching for,” Adam explained. “As you observed, it’s unlike any metal polish we use on our weapons. That’s why I brought it to you. You’re the most knowledgeable weapons expert in Vidin. Have you encountered anything like this before? I suspect this bottle originates from the land where this individual came from.”

  “You’re searching for someone who isn’t native to Vidin?” Broudgrak asked.

  “Indeed,” Adam replied. “According to those who know him, his accent wasn’t perfect when he arrived here a few years ago. If I could determine his place of origin, it might give me further clues.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Broudgrak admitted. “This is a first. Your reasoning makes sense. This is clearly not from Vidin, perhaps intended for a metal we don’t possess here.”

  “Can you identify the type of metal, too?” Adam asked. “His sword appears quite effective, but I’m unable to determine its composition. I suspect it’s something that doesn’t utilize divine energy for enhanced strength, unlike the renowned enchanted weapons you craft with the elves.”

  “What makes you think that?” Broudgrak inquired.

  “I found something he’d used his sword to cut,” Adam explained. “It was incredibly thick, something a normal sword couldn’t penetrate, even with brute force. It requires a sturdy, durable blade to withstand the pressure without breaking. Around the cuts, there was no trace of any kind of energy. It was pure strength from the sword and its wielder.”

  “But the sword could be both enchanted and exceptionally rigid,” Broudgrak countered. “He might simply have chosen not to channel the divine energy within it. Though, I suppose that’s why you brought me this bottle,” he conceded.

  “Precisely,” Adam confirmed. “That polisher will tell us definitively whether the sword is enchanted. Enchanted weapons require specific types of polish; otherwise, they risk losing their magical properties. A seasoned warrior like him wouldn’t make such a careless mistake.”

  “I understand now,” Broudgrak said.

  “So, can you assist me with this?” Adam asked.

  “I’ll see what I can uncover about this bottle,” Broudgrak replied, placing it carefully in a drawer. “Give me a couple of days, and I’ll see if I can find anything to aid your investigation.”

  “Thank you, Broudgrak,” Adam said. “This is a crucial case, and I can’t afford to overlook any lead if I want to find him.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Broudgrak said. “I’m just glad to see you, lad.”

  “Likewise, old friend,” Adam replied, a genuine smile gracing his features.

  “I must take my leave now,” Adam announced, rising to his feet.

  “It’s still early,” Broudgrak protested. “Why not stay a while longer?”

  “I have another lead to pursue,” Adam explained. “I can’t afford to linger.”

  “You’re no fun,” Broudgrak grumbled good-naturedly, also standing. He approached Adam and clasped his hand in a firm shake.

  “It’s a pleasure seeing you, Captain,” Broudgrak said, a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t be a stranger. An old dwarf can get lonely, you know.” He chuckled, and Adam returned the smile.

  “I won’t,” Adam promised. “Just as soon as I’ve wrapped up this business.” He turned to leave.

  “Hey, Adam,” Broudgrak called out. Adam paused and looked back.

  “Don’t forget about Gena,” Broudgrak said, his voice firm. “Nothing in this world is more important than family. She’s been with you through thick and thin. The absence of children doesn’t diminish the love and affection you should have for her.”

  “It has nothing to do with that,” Adam protested, his gaze drifting to the workers below. “I’m simply very busy.”

  “Not to this extent,” Broudgrak countered. “I don’t want to think you’ve forgotten how she supported you after your...incident with the army. Don’t let your job consume you to the point of neglecting her.”

  “But she understands my obligations,” Adam explained. “I’m the King’s personal guard, Broudgrak. She knows I have virtually no free time.”

  “She may not voice her feelings,” Broudgrak said, “but she could be incredibly lonely without you. If a woman truly loves a man, she won’t tolerate extended periods of separation. Trust me on this.” Adam regarded him silently, then sighed.

  “Alright, Broudgrak,” Adam conceded. “I’ll see her after I follow up on this other lead. But please, don’t assume I harbor any ill will towards her. Gena means the world to me. Perhaps, after all this is concluded, I’ll take some leave and spend some quality time with her.”

  “That’s my lad!” Broudgrak exclaimed, beaming. “Now go, and bring that scoundrel to justice.”

  “I will,” Adam affirmed, turning and exiting the office. Broudgrak sighed as the door closed behind him.

  “He’s even more stubborn than his father,” Broudgrak muttered, reaching for his rum bottle.