Northern took a deep breath and stepped forward towards one of the forges in the workshop, the weight of all the eyes in the room pressing down on him.
He glanced at the hammer lying on the anvil—a simple tool compared to the intricate one Eleina carried.
He wrapped his fingers around the handle and easily lifted it, turning to Elena, whose sharp gaze was fixed on him with a mixture of interest and curiosity.
"At the very least... would you tell me what to do?" Northern spoke calmly, despite the tension hanging in the atmosphere.
Everything about it was indifferently poised, unaffected by what was happening right now in the forge.
Eleina was silent for a couple of seconds, gazing deeply into Northern's eyes. Then she stepped forward, her tone uncharacteristically patient.
