"It's been a while since we spoke, great lady of Horndragon!" A voice called out as Gabriella and her knight approached. He was the Blacksmith; Lawrence.
Lawrence stood at his anvil, his muscular arms flexing as he wielded his hammer with strength. Sweat dripped from his brow as he shaped a glowing piece of metal, its orange-yellow hue illuminating the surrounding area.
With each strike of the hammer, the metal takes form, becoming a weapon. The sound of clanging metal echoed through the air, accompanied by the acrid smell of hot metal and the faint glow of embers.
"Good day, Sir, Lawrence." Gabriella greeted while taking the full view of the man.
His hair was a hint of golden and his eyes gave off an aura of a Gemma, his leather apron stained with soot and metal shavings. Very active man looking mid-forties yet he might have lived beyond that.
