"You will know," Lucian said, moving toward the open door at the end of the corridor from which the sound of metal clanking echoed.
The heat washed over him as the wind blew past, illuminated by the yellow light that clearly marked the smithy.
Trailing behind him were Jully and her father, along with the head maid, who seemed puzzled by the young master's intentions.
They all entered the smithy, a space substantial enough to be considered equivalent to three rooms in the mansion—not enormous, but adequately sized to allow for the crafting of a sword in a single day.
The room buzzed with activity without feeling cramped.
Four or five workers were scattered throughout, each engrossed in their tasks.
Hammers struck anvils, sparks flew, and the rhythmic clang of metal filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with the energy of dedicated craftsmanship.
"Huh? Oh, Young Master!?"
"Chief, the Young Master is here!"
