The morning light filtered through the windows of the forge, casting a soft, golden glow upon the tools and anvils that stood like sentinels of labor. Kael awoke with a throbbing headache, the consequence of last night's indulgence in ale. With a groan, he forced himself from his makeshift bed, the rough stone and wooden planks scraping against his skin.
After a splash of water on his face, Kael felt slightly more awake. He dressed and made his way to the forge, his movements measured and deliberate to avoid exacerbating his headache. The flames were rekindled, the air soon filled with the familiar roar of the forge's heat.
As if in sync with his predicament, Master Faelon entered the forge, his own demeanor reflecting the effects of a less than ideal morning. A nod of greeting passed between master and apprentice, a shared understanding that transcended words.
Faelon's gruff voice broke the silence, his words carrying a trace of humor despite his own evident discomfort. "Seems like the night at the tavern took a different toll on you, lad."
Kael managed a wry smile, his head still a battleground of dull thuds. "Aye, Master. It was not my usual choice."
Faelon's chuckle rumbled through the air, a sound that brought a measure of warmth to the otherwise cool forge. "Well, it's not every day we find ourselves bested by a tankard of ale. Now, let's put that behind us and get to work."
With a nod of agreement, Kael focused on the tasks at hand, his movements precise as he moved through the familiar routines of the forge. As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, the forge settled into its rhythm, the hammer's song harmonizing with the roar of the flames.
Midday brought a shift in the forge's quiet ambiance, the creak of the door drawing both Kael's and Faelon's attention. The Dominion Knight, his silver-clad form a striking contrast against the darkened interior, strode into the forge with a sense of purpose.
Kael's heartbeat quickened at the sight, his curiosity piqued once more. He watched as the knight approached the counter, where the gauntlet had been patiently waiting. Faelon greeted the knight with a nod, his demeanor a mixture of respect and curiosity.
With practiced ease, the knight removed his helmet, revealing a face that bore the marks of experience—a life lived on the edge of danger. His gaze turned to the repaired gauntlet, a faint glint of approval in his eyes. "You've done fine work, blacksmith."
Faelon, humility etched into his features, accepted the gratitude with a nod. "It was a pleasure to restore something of such craftsmanship."
The knight's gaze shifted to Kael, the exchange of glances a silent acknowledgment of shared effort. "Your apprentice's hands are skilled, Master Faelon. He has great potential."
A warmth spread within Kael's chest, a mixture of pride and validation. He met the knight's gaze, his gratitude unspoken yet felt. The knight's actions spoke volumes, acknowledging his contribution in a way that words could not fully capture.
With the gauntlet returned to its rightful place, the knight produced a pouch of coin, its weight a testament to its contents. He placed a stack of gold upon the counter, and Faelon's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and disbelief.
Faelon hesitated for a moment, his words faltering as he considered the gravity of the gift. The knight's gentle insistence broke through his uncertainty. "Take it, blacksmith. Use it to further your craft."
The knight donned his helmet once more, his gauntlet settling over his hand with a satisfying click. "The Silver Prince will surely bless your efforts."
With those words, the knight departed, his presence a fleeting but impactful memory. Kael approached the counter, his eyes fixed on the stack of gold before him. Faelon's fingers moved, counting the coins with a mixture of awe and incredulity.
"Twenty-five gold pieces," Faelon murmured, a mixture of wonder and disbelief coloring his words.
Kael corrected him with a smile, his gaze locked on the coins. "Thirty gold pieces, Master."
Faelon's gaze shifted to Kael, his expression a mixture of pride and realization. He took five of the coins from the stack and placed them before Kael. "You've earned it, lad."
Kael's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and accomplishment, his fingers grazing the coins that represented both his work and the knight's recognition. He gave a nod of agreement, his determination reaffirmed by the unexpected turn of events.
As the day wore on, Kael's hands worked with renewed vigor, each swing of the hammer a testament to the potential the knight had seen in him. The coins that lay beside him were more than just gold—they were a promise, a reminder that even in the shadows of the forge, fortunes could be forged.
And so, amidst the heat and rhythm of the forge, Kael's life had seemingly been blessed. The Dominion Knight's visit had left an indelible mark, a reminder that the city's streets held more mysteries and opportunities than he had ever imagined. As the day drew to a close, the forge's fires dimmed, casting elongated shadows upon the walls.
Kael knew that he carried more than just gold coins in his pocket—he carried the weight of potential, the knowledge that he was a part of something greater. With a sense of purpose, he carefully stowed the coins away, the future a landscape of possibilities waiting to be explored.