For the next several days, the valley became a place of upheaval—not only from the tremors that rattled the earth but also from the influx of people seeking their fortunes or chasing their ambitions.
Small earthquakes shook the region regularly, each one a subtle reminder of the Galgameth's growing frenzy and the impending emergence of the Lava Worms. The Ironworks trembled with every quake, dust falling from the rafters as the smiths worked tirelessly to reinforce the forges and stockpile supplies.
But it wasn't just the land that grew chaotic. News of the Season of Fire had spread far and wide, drawing all manner of individuals to the Peaks of Ash and Fire. Nobles, clad in ornate armor and accompanied by small armies of retainers, arrived seeking glory. Their banners flew high, proclaiming their houses' names as they set up encampments on the valley's edges.
Merchants followed close behind, accompanied by bands of hardened mercenaries. They brought carts laden with supplies—tools, potions, and weapons to sell to anyone willing to pay their exorbitant prices. The clang of their hammers and the buzz of negotiations filled the air, their temporary bazaars springing up like mushrooms after a rain.
Then there were the Magic Researchers, a peculiar group driven by curiosity rather than coin. They arrived in groups, their wagons filled with strange instruments and tomes of arcane knowledge. Clad in robes marked with sigils, they set up their tents in carefully chosen locations, their eyes fixed on the tremors' source. Their goal was clear: to study the Lava Worms and the seismic magic they brought to the surface.
Kalem observed the commotion from the Ironworks' gates, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. It was a strange sight—the once-quiet valley was now bustling with life, a stark contrast to the desolation he'd encountered just days ago.
"This is madness," he muttered under his breath as he watched a noble's caravan roll by, its gilded wheels creaking under the weight of decorative armor and elaborate weapons.
Tharic, who stood beside him, snorted. "Madness? Maybe. But it's also an opportunity. These people might be fools, but they've got deep pockets. And we've got something they need—steel and expertise."
Kalem shook his head. "They're treating this like it's a festival. Do they even know what they're walking into?"
"Most of them don't," Vornar said, joining them. His expression was grim as he surveyed the scene. "But they'll learn soon enough. When the first Lava Worm breaks the surface, reality will hit them like a hammer."
Kalem's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the faint glow of molten earth could be seen in the distance. "And us? What do we do?"
Vornar clapped him on the shoulder. "We prepare. The Ironworks is more than a forge—it's a fortress. If things get bad, we'll be the last line of defense for everyone in this valley. That's what we do."
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. The smiths at the Ironworks worked around the clock, crafting weapons and armor not only for themselves but also for the nobles and mercenaries who flooded the valley. Kalem found himself at the heart of the operation, his skills in high demand.
He forged reinforced spearheads for mercenaries, ornate swords for nobles who cared more about appearance than practicality, and even arcane conduits for the researchers. Each piece bore the mark of the Ironworks—functional, durable, and masterfully crafted.
Amid the chaos, Kalem took every opportunity to learn. He spoke with the researchers, asking them about the Lava Worms and the seismic magic that stirred beneath the earth. He observed the nobles' tactics, noting how their commanders organized their troops. And he listened to the mercenaries' stories, gleaning whatever information he could about the Galgameth's behavior.
The tremors grew stronger with each passing day, and the tension in the valley was palpable. By the time night fell, the once-bustling camps were eerily quiet, their occupants bracing for the chaos to come.
One evening, as Kalem stood by the forge, he noticed a group of researchers gathered near the valley's edge, their instruments glowing faintly in the darkness. Curious, he approached them.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
One of the researchers, a wiry man with a monocle enchanted to magnify magical auras, glanced up. "Signs of a breach," he said. "The Lava Worms are close. Very close."
Kalem frowned. "How close?"
The researcher hesitated, glancing at his instruments before replying. "Close enough that we may see one surface within the next few days. If the tremors increase in intensity, it could be even sooner."
Kalem thanked him and returned to the Ironworks, his thoughts heavy. The valley was on the brink of chaos, and everyone knew it. The nobles prepared their armies, the merchants fortified their camps, and the researchers sharpened their focus.
But as Kalem walked past the forge, he realized something: for all their preparations, most of these people weren't ready for what was coming. They didn't understand the sheer destructive force of the Season of Fire—the way it could reshape the land and shatter lives in an instant.
He tightened his grip on the spear in his hand, determination hardening his resolve. The flood of people may have changed the valley, but it wouldn't change his goal.
The Season of Fire was coming, and Kalem would be ready.