Rain drummed steadily against the rooftops of Ravenshire, a constant percussion that echoed through the quiet village. Paths had become streams, puddles forming in the dips of the cobblestones, and the scent of wet earth drifted through the air. The usual hum of the forge was absent today; Coerl had called it off, citing the storm as unsafe for working with fire and molten metal.
Hunnt sat near the window of his home, Pyro curled beside him, eyes bright and alert despite the storm outside. His small companion's tail flicked occasionally, as though keeping time with the rain. The rhythmic tapping against the roof somehow mirrored the rhythm of Hunnt's thoughts.
"No forge today," Hunnt murmured, tapping the edge of his pencil against the blank sheet of parchment. "But that doesn't mean I can't work… I have ideas to plan."
Pyro mewed softly, nudging the pencil with a paw as if trying to participate. Hunnt laughed quietly. "Not yet, Pyro. Today, you just watch. Tomorrow… you'll hold your own weapons. For now, you're my silent apprentice." Pyro tilted his head and settled back, tail flicking in approval—or maybe curiosity.
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Hunnt laid out several sheets of parchment on the table, each one pristine, waiting to carry his ideas from mind to paper. He began with sketches of his fist-style gauntlet, his personal weapon. Carefully, he drew every joint, plate, and reinforcement layer. He marked notes for steel thickness, the placement of flexible monster-scale inserts to absorb and redirect force, and the curves that would allow maximum range of motion for his fingers. Every line and annotation reflected not only practical knowledge but imagination—lessons from Coerl, the forge, and countless hours of reflection distilled into each stroke.
As he worked, Pyro observed intently. The little Felyne didn't touch the sketches, only watching with bright, golden eyes, tail flicking in quiet anticipation. Hunnt smiled faintly at the sight. "You're going to love it, Pyro. When it's ready, you'll see. Every movement you make… every strike you land… this will fit you perfectly."
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Next, Hunnt turned to Pyro's small Sword and Shield. Even though Pyro wouldn't wield them today, Hunnt approached the sketches as seriously as if the Felyne were testing prototypes right now. He measured paw sizes in his mind, imagining the grip, the angles of the blade, and the curvature of the shield. He marked notes on weight distribution, balance, and the precise length of the blade so that Pyro's quick movements would carry maximum impact.
Pyro leaned forward slightly, as if trying to read Hunnt's thoughts. His little claws tapped the table absentmindedly, but Hunnt knew better than to let his companion interfere with the creative process. "Patience, Pyro. Soon enough, you'll swing your SnS and dance around enemies with it. Today… you learn to watch, to understand the thought behind every strike." Pyro let out a soft purr, seemingly satisfied with his observer role.
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Finally, Hunnt sketched a hammer for Corwin. He considered balance, weight distribution, and the intended use—powerful strikes that didn't waste energy but could stagger even the toughest monsters. Notes in the margins included ideas for reinforced heads, shock absorption, and grip adjustments. Hunnt imagined Corwin swinging it effortlessly, each movement precise yet forceful.
Hours passed in quiet focus. The rain's rhythm against the roof became a backdrop to Hunnt's pencil scratching across the sheets, punctuated by Pyro's occasional mew or the soft tap of his paw on the floor. Hunnt's mind was alive with possibilities, blending practicality with imagination, theory with instinct. He could already picture Pyro's agile movements, Corwin's powerful strikes, and his own fist-style gauntlet turning each strike into a precise and devastating force.
When he finally leaned back, Hunnt surveyed the work sprawled before him. The sheets were filled with meticulous sketches, careful measurements, and notes on potential experiments. "One day… Pyro, Corwin… these will be more than sketches," he whispered, tail flicking in quiet determination. "One day, these will be real. And they'll carry everything we've trained for—my fists, your speed, Corwin's power."
Pyro padded closer and sniffed at the sketches, tail flicking, as though testing them for approval. Hunnt smiled, scratching behind the Felyne's ears. "You'll see soon enough. Today, you watched. Tomorrow, you'll swing, jab, and block with them. And we'll start learning how each weapon feels in your hands—or paws."
The storm outside continued, relentless and rhythmic, but inside, the spark of creation burned brighter than ever. Hunnt's hands were blackened from graphite and ink instead of soot, but every line, every note, was a step toward the future. A future where he, Pyro, and Corwin wouldn't just wield weapons—they'd become extensions of their own strength, skill, and unity.
And in that quiet room, with rain pattering against the windows and the promise of adventure simmering in his mind, Hunnt began the first tangible steps toward forging not just weapons, but the future they would fight to protect.