The Next Morning
Leofric woke feeling renewed, though his mind weighed heavily on the decision before him. He stepped outside into the cool morning air, recalling Edith's words from the night before:
"I suggest we stay here a while. I think we should trust the old man. Better to rest here than to wander a road without a destination."
Leofric sighed, muttering to himself. "Then it seems I'll have to work with this old man."
"I've told you not to call me old," came a dry voice from behind.
Leofric startled and spun around. Eldric stood there with his hands calmly folded behind his back, his face marked with patience.
"When did you get here?" Leofric asked, bewildered.
"When you did," Eldric answered plainly.
Leofric frowned. "That's hardly an answer. Wait… so you heard everything?"
"Yes," Eldric replied, his voice steady. "My instincts are sharp, sharper than most men would believe."
Leofric shook his head. Strange man, he thought, though there was respect in the thought. He followed as Eldric strode toward the forge.
"You didn't even bother asking for my response," Leofric pressed.
"There was no need. I heard it already," Eldric said as he stepped into the forge.
Leofric muttered, half under his breath, "He is strange." He followed inside.
Inside, the forge was hot and dim, lit by the steady glow of the furnace. The stone hearth burned with red coals, filling the room with smoke and the sharp scent of iron. An anvil sat in the center, its surface dented and blackened from years of use.
Hammers and tongs hung neatly on the walls, alongside chisels and other tools of the trade. A wooden bench was cluttered with scraps of metal and half-finished blades, while a barrel of water stood nearby, its surface dark and still. Chains dangled from the beams above, swaying faintly in the heat.
---
When Eldric and Leofric later stepped back into the open air, the wide land stretched fresh and green before them. Eldric's eyes softened as he gazed upon it.
"This land was my father's. He was a great forger. My hands learned their craft from his." His voice carried both weight and humility.
Leofric nodded quietly.
Just then, Edith burst from the house, panic in her face. "Leofric! Leofric!"
He raised a hand. "I'm here."
Her eyes lit with relief as she hurried toward him. "Good morning, old man," she said quickly in greeting.
Eldric groaned, shoulders slumping. "So this is to be my fate… forever old in the mouths of youth." He walked away with slow steps.
Edith blinked. "What's wrong with him?"
Leofric smirked. "He doesn't like to be called old."
Edith gasped lightly. "Oh."
"You were calling for me earlier. What happened?" Leofric asked, his brow drawn.
"I thought you'd left me," she muttered, pouting as she struck his arm with her small fist.
Leofric clutched his hand and howled in mock pain. "Ahhh, my hand! Edith, you've crippled me!"
Edith's lips trembled. "What? Did I—?" She reached for his hand in a panic, only for
Leofric to burst into laughter.
Realizing she'd been tricked, her cheeks flushed. "You fool!" She struck him again, harder this time.
Eldric, glancing back, allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Cute couple."
But as he turned forward, his steps slowed. Standing before the house was a familiar figure.
"Orren." Eldric called out.
Orren was a stout merchant with a neat gray-streaked beard and sharp eyes that missed nothing. He dressed in worn brown and green clothes fit for long roads. His stall was plain but tidy, lined with hammers, tongs, chisels, and whetstones, with bundles of iron and coils of wire stacked on a cart behind him. He spoke smoothly, always ready to bargain, and some whispered he could find metals no other merchant dared to sell.
Orren's news struck like a blade. "Queen Hilda is dead."
Edith's hands fell limp at her sides, tears spilling down her cheeks. Leofric's throat went dry, his heart clenched.
"She destroyed the crown herself," Orren continued, words tumbling as though they could not be stopped, "to keep it from her brother Gerald. He's been accused of gaining strength from some dark force. Now he calls himself king and rules with an iron hand. None dare oppose him."
Edith sobbed quietly, while Leofric's face darkened, sorrow heavy in his eyes.
Eldric only murmured, his voice like stone. "A shame… a great shame."
Orren's gaze flicked curiously to the pair behind Eldric. "And who might these—"
"Where's Olivia?" Leofric cut in, his voice rough, eyes fixed on Edith's trembling form.
---
Meanwhile, far away in Osric, the shadows thickened.
Lucifer sat in his chamber, the air about him heavy with malice. Morvain bowed low before him.
"So," Lucifer's voice slithered like venom, "you mean to say we need the map to find the crystals?"
"Yes, my lord," Morvain answered calmly.
"And where is this map?" Lucifer's gaze sharpened.
"It was with Queen Hilda."
Lucifer's hand slammed against the table, the crack like thunder. "Then search her chamber!"
Morvain raised his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "It will not help. The map was bound to the crown. When the crown was destroyed, the map was lost with it."
Lucifer's eyes flared with fury. "Then how do we find it?"
"I cannot say with certainty," Morvain admitted, though his voice carried the smug weight of knowledge. "But there is one lead. Queen Hilda had a daughter. Her servants fled with her. If there is a key to the crown, it lies in that girl."
Lucifer rose slowly, his presence pressing down like a storm. Morvain bowed lower, struggling beneath the suffocating weight.
Lucifer sneered. "Bring me that girl."