We moved swiftly across the street, slipping into the forge just as the carriage disappeared around the corner. Inside, the warmth of the forge hit me first, the smell of burning coal and iron filling the air. Eamon looked up from his work, his expression tense.
"You've just missed him," Eamon said, his voice low, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with something more cautious. "Your brother, King Alaric."
Xavion nodded grimly. "We saw."
Eamon wiped his hands on his apron, glancing toward the door as if half-expecting Alaric to walk back in. "He was here all morning with his men. They've been staying in Silverfall for the past few weeks."
"Why?" Xavion asked, his voice sharp, demanding answers.
