Special thanks to Kassy_murphy for the Golden Tickets. (≧ω≦)
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It was a few hours into the afternoon, and Azrael sat behind his grand mahogany desk, sipping slowly from a goblet of spiced wine. He barely acknowledged the heavy door creaking open until Marcus entered, followed by a man who seemed entirely out of place within the polished confines of the royal study.
The newcomer, clad in a threadbare tunic and trousers smeared with soot, hesitated at the entrance. His rough hands were calloused, and his face carried the wear of long days at the forge. He was the image of a blacksmith.
"Marcus," Azrael greeted, setting his goblet down with a measured clink. "Who have you brought to me?"
Marcus bowed deeply before speaking. "Your Majesty, this is Oliver, a blacksmith from the market. He comes bearing news about Cassandra, a name you asked me to look into."
