The door creaked open again, and in stepped a figure far different from the usual customers. This one had that certain air about him—the kind you get when you've never had to worry about where your next meal's coming from. A noble. Dressed in fine silks, with a red and gold emblem of some kingdom I didn't recognize stitched on his chest, and carrying an expression of mild annoyance, like he was doing me a favor just by stepping into my humble shop.
"Ah, right," I muttered, glancing up from my work. "What can I do for ye? Maybe a nice, shiny sword to match your pretty little face?"
The noble scoffed, adjusting the golden hilt of his ornate sword. It probably cost more than my whole shop and everything in it. "I need something more... practical. And something special. Are you the one they say forges legendary weapons?"
"Depends on who ye ask," I said, leaning against my anvil and taking a swig of ale. "Most folks round here think I'm good at making pitchforks that can almost hold an edge. But if you're looking for something fancy, you're barking up the wrong tree. You want fancy? Go down to the royal smiths. I only make what's needed, not what's shiny."
The noble raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being dismissed. "I'm here because I've heard rumors. Of weapons that don't just cut... but burn. Of blades that sing as they strike."
I let out a short laugh. "Aye, that's the sort of thing folk like to say. But it ain't all fire and fury, lad. It's just a little forge magic and a lot of elbow grease. No need for all the fancy words."
"I don't need words. I need results," he replied, his voice firm, a slight sneer tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, ye came to the right place for that." I gave him a crooked grin, tossing my hammer onto the anvil with a clang. "What exactly are ye after? Something to burn, did ye say? Got the perfect thing for ye."
The noble's eyes lit up at the mention of fire, but he held back, clearly trying to maintain his noble composure. "It's for a war. We need weapons that'll give us an edge, something—" He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "Something that can cut through their shields like butter, pierce their armor, and still be light enough to swing."
I scratched my beard thoughtfully. That was the kind of challenge I lived for. "I've got just the idea for that. But it ain't gonna be cheap. Or quick."
He waved a hand, clearly not understanding what he was getting into. "Money is no object," he said. "I've been told you're the best at what you do. Prove it."
I looked at him, feeling a little buzzed from the ale, but also starting to feel the familiar excitement at the idea of crafting something beyond just the usual farm tools and cheap swords. "Aye, aye, I'll prove it. But first, I'll need a few things from ye. Special ingredients. And I'll need some time."
"What kind of ingredients?"
"Well, for starters," I said, dragging out the explanation, "I'll need a phoenix feather. Not just any feather, mind you—the one that's still got the fire of the bird in it. You'll also need a scale from a dragon. Only one, mind you. A dragon's got plenty of scales, but it's a damn rare thing to catch them and get them off without a fight."
The noble blinked, clearly struggling to understand the gravity of what I was saying. "A phoenix? And a dragon? Are you mad?"
"Mad? No. A bit tipsy, maybe," I said with a chuckle, taking another swig of ale. "But when ye want a weapon that'll make an impact, ye need something a bit more than just iron and steel. Ye need magic, lad. Real, proper magic."
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure how you expect me to get those."
I shrugged. "That's yer problem, not mine. I'm just here to forge it. You bring me the ingredients, and I'll do the rest. You'll have a weapon worthy of kings."
The noble seemed to think it over for a moment, clearly weighing his options. He seemed the type who preferred to pay someone else to handle the dirty work. Eventually, he let out a frustrated sigh, and I could tell he was about to give in. "Fine. I'll get them," he said through clenched teeth. "But this better be as extraordinary as you say it is."
"It will be," I said, grinning ear to ear. "And when ye swing it, ye'll hear the song of battle like nothing before."
The noble nodded stiffly, and I could tell he wasn't quite sure what he was getting into, but that was fine. Let him think I was just a simple drunkard blacksmith. He'd learn soon enough. My weapons weren't just tools—they were art. Weapons of power that could change the course of wars, and maybe even the fate of kingdoms.
Once he left, I returned to my forge. The flames flickered, crackling with the magic of the creatures I'd tamed—beasts that could heat and cool metals, bring power from the deepest caverns, and turn molten steel into something alive.
"Time to get to work," I mumbled to myself, tossing the half-finished sword to the side and rolling up my sleeves.
I was going to need more than just fire for this one. I needed something special.
The forge was quiet for a moment, the rhythmic clanging of my hammer the only sound in the room. And as I worked, my mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to tame creatures so powerful that even the gods themselves would take notice.
But first, I needed to find that phoenix.
And I needed a dragon's scale.