I woke with a jolt, my breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl. The room was dim, with barely any sunlight filtering through the shutters, and I was soaked in sweat. The quilt clung to me like a second skin. I sat up slowly, trying not to wake Seraphina, but the bed shifted just enough to disturb her.

  Her voice was gentle. “Another nightmare?”

  I ran my hand over my face, my skin clammy and my forehead cold. “I… I think so.”

  “What was it?”

  I looked at her and shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  That was the worst part. It wasn’t fear I woke up with it, it was something heavier. Like I’d glimpsed something I wasn’t meant to see, and my mind had erased it for self-preservation.

  But this time, I remembered something: a white room and someone being there. A woman, I believe.

  Seraphina sat up, the quilt slipping down her waist, revealing the curve of her bare back in the morning light. She reached for the water jug on the nightstand. “You’ve been like this since the forge test. Is it stress?”

  “Maybe,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. It didn’t feel like stress. It felt like a warning.

  I drank slowly, letting the cool water soothe the tightness in my throat. Then I returned the cup and lay down again.

  Seraphina followed, draping herself halfway over me, her leg sliding between mine, her skin warm against my side. Her arm curled across my chest, and I could feel the soft pressure of her breast where we touched, real, grounding, and familiar in a way that silenced the last echoes of the dream I couldn’t remember.

  Seraphina’s hand moved gently in slow, thoughtful circles on my chest.

  “Was it another dream?” she asked, her voice gentle, as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace we’d found among the shadows.

  “I think so,” I said. “I don’t remember it, just the feeling. Like I woke up halfway through something important.”

  “Not the first time.” Her fingers paused. “You’ve been tense in your sleep, turning over and muttering sometimes.”

  I didn’t answer right away. There wasn’t much to say. The dreams hadn’t come with voices or visions, just pressure like being watched from inside.

  “Maybe it’s the guild,” I offered. “Or the capital. Or everything all at once.”

  She gave a quiet hum and rested her chin gently against my shoulder.

  “You’re not alone in this, David. Whatever’s weighing on you, don’t carry it by yourself.”

  I looked down at her; her hair spilled over the pillow, and her eyes were half-lidded but steady. The softness in her voice didn’t come from fear. It came from strength from the choice to stay even when things got strange.

  “I know,” I said. “I don’t always know what to do with that, but I’m grateful.”

  “You don’t have to do anything with it.” Her lips brushed against my collarbone. “Just don’t forget it’s there.”

  I reached up and tangled my fingers in her hair. “Then let’s take the day. No dreams. No forge. Just breakfast.”

  She smiled against my skin. “Breakfast I can do, but first I want dessert.” Her hand slowly slipped down below my waist.

  By the time we dressed and went downstairs, the Copper Candle’s common room was already lively with the gentle noise of the morning. The smell of fresh bread and something sizzling in butter filled the air. We found a table near the hearth, still warm from last night’s embers, and sat down.

  A server brought out two plates heaping with eggs, roasted potatoes, and thick slices of ham. Seraphina dug in first, hiding a smile behind her mug of tea. I picked up my fork but stopped when I saw movement near the entrance.

  Mark entered the room, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and holding his lantern as if it were an extension of his arm. His eyes found us quickly, and he crossed the floor with his usual restless energy.

  “Morning,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. He set the lantern beside his plate as if it belonged there.

  Between bites of ham, I glanced at the lantern Mark had placed beside his plate. It was a simple frame, sturdy iron, clean lines, functional, with a hinged side panel and a thick handle braided in wire. The glass panes had a faint amber tint.

  “Is that what you made for your assessment?” I asked, nodding toward it.

  Mark looked down at it and then back up with a short, proud nod. “Yes. Candle lantern. Same design we use back home. Reliable. Durable. I was delighted, it passed.” Mark handed the lantern to me.

  “It’s clean work,” I said, examining its design and construction more closely. “You punch those rivets by hand?”

  He brightened a little as I handed it back to him. “Yeah. No jig. I’ve been practicing freehand alignment for months.” He gently rotated it on the table, clearly pleased. “Nothing fancy. But it works.”

  Seraphina leaned over to examine it. “It’s charming. Like something you’d take on a journey.”

  Mark smiled. “That’s the idea. I considered doing something fancier, but I figured they’d prefer to see solid technique rather than flair.”

  I nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong. Remind me sometime; I can show you a couple of other ways to set the rivets.”

  Mark nodded eagerly, then grinned. “Deal. But uh, when do I get to see what you made?”

  I gave a half-smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  We finished breakfast without rushing, though I noticed Seraphina glancing at the morning light spreading across the floor. There was anticipation in her stance, even if she didn’t speak. When we finished, we grabbed our cloaks and stepped out into the chilly morning air.

  The streets were already filling up, with traders setting up stalls, carts groaning under crates, and children darting between baskets. We made our way through the busy scene, weaving through the familiar hustle of the city until we saw the stone spires of the guild hall in the distance.

  It appeared even taller in the morning light, as if it had grown overnight.

  Inside, the front chamber felt calmer than the day before. There was no shouting or clattering metal, just quiet conversations and the scratch of quills behind the front desk.

  I approached the clerk and said, "David Robertson. I was told to return today.”

  She looked at a ledger and nodded slightly. “Yes. Please have a seat. The Guildmaster will be with you shortly.”

  I thanked her and turned to find a seat. Seraphina and I chose two open chairs near a window, with light filtering in just enough to keep the chill away. She sat close, not touching, but close enough that I could feel her calm, even when mine threatened to fray.

  The minutes dragged by slowly. I kept my eyes on the distant door, where decisions awaited.

  The wait wasn't as long as I expected.

  The inner door creaked open with the characteristic heaviness found in older buildings, due to heavy hinges and worn wood. A man in a slate-gray coat stepped inside, surveying the waiting area.

  “David Robertson?” he asked.

  I stood. “That’s me.”

  “Follow me. The Guildmaster is ready.”

  Seraphina gave my hand a gentle squeeze as I stood up. I signaled for her to come with me as I followed the man through the wide doors and into the stone corridor beyond. Each step echoed. Tapestries decorated the walls, showing forges, swords, and strange runes I hadn’t recognized yet.

  We entered a tall room with high ceilings and thick support beams that looked blackened from old forge smoke. A semi-circle of raised benches faced a central anvil and a long worktable. Three people waited there: the Guildmaster from yesterday, the woman assessor, and a third man in scholar’s robes, flipping through an old ledger.

  The Guildmaster nodded toward the bench for Seraphina and me to stand nearby. “David,” he began, “your performance yesterday was exceptional, but unusual. In four hours, you forged every assessment item to a standard that, frankly, we don’t often see. I have never seen any attempts like that.”

  The woman nodded slightly. “And then a bracelet.”

  Seraphina removed the bracelet and placed it on the table alongside the other items. The woman assessor continued, “Decorative, precise. After everything else.”

  I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The Guildmaster folded his hands. “We’ve examined your pieces. Each one exceeds the standards it’s meant to meet. The hinge shows an understanding of tolerances and decorative work. The chisel is perfectly balanced. The paring blade is razor-sharp and symmetrical. Even the axe that couldn’t be made was tested. It passed.”

  The robed man looked up from his ledger. “None of that, however, explains your technique. We haven’t seen folded layering like that outside of ancient records. Tell me who trained you?”

  “My father,” I answered, without thinking. “And his father. Back home, we passed our techniques down.”

  The Guildmaster exchanged a look with the robed man.

  “Your results meet the levels of a Master Smith,” the woman said. “But the Guild has never elevated someone so quickly. It’s irregular. Dangerous, even, politically.”

  The Guildmaster cleared his throat. “David, if we name you a Master Smith, your reputation will spread. There will be questions. People will want your loyalty or your silence. Currently, there are only four other Master Smiths in the guild records. Those smiths are not in Vaelthorn. One is in Eldros, and the others are in the south, in the Dwarf lands.”

  He stepped down from the bench and moved closer. “So here’s what I offer: you accept elevation, but not public declaration. You will be granted the rights and recognition, the resources of the Guild, but your title remains provisional until a formal announcement at the Equinox Gathering.”

  I took a deep breath, then nodded. “That’s fair.”

  The Guildmaster extended his hand. “Then welcome, Master Smith quietly. You are the first Master Smith in the kingdom in many generations.”

  We shook.

  I heard Seraphina get up behind me. She approached with a quiet smile and stood beside me as the Guildmaster turned back to the others.

  “Make the arrangements,” he said. “And have a workshop assigned immediately.”

  As the Guildmaster turned to issue instructions, I looked back at the workbench.

  “May I keep the pieces I forged?” I asked.

  He paused, then nodded. “They’re yours. We don’t keep what we didn’t commission. They’re proof enough of what you are.”

  I moved forward, steady-handed as I collected the items, each one a symbol of focus, instinct, and memory. The axe. The chisel. The hinge. The paring blade. And finally, the bracelet.

  I looked at Seraphina, who was standing there waiting, her eyes full of pride and something even more delicate than words.

  “I made this for you,” I said softly, “and I meant it.”

  I took her wrist and carefully slipped the bracelet back on, fastening the hasp with slow, deliberate care. Then, without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed her, fully and deeply. Not hurried. Not hidden.

  The chamber was quiet, apart from the gentle rustling of robes and the sound of a chair being shifted.

  When I pulled back, Seraphina smiled, her hand now resting on mine, as if anchoring us both to this new moment.

  Behind us, the Guildmaster let out a faint grunt, either approving or amused, I couldn’t tell. “Very well,” he said. “Let’s get you settled.”

  The Guildmaster signaled for us to follow. We moved through a wide archway at the back of the hall, passing rows of seated guildsmen along a corridor lit by steady lanterns in wrought iron brackets. At the end, two massive doors stood closed. He pushed one open with a practiced shove.

  As we stepped through, the air shifted warmer and alive with the scent of oiled tools and tempered steel. It was quieter here, the sounds of labor muffled behind thick stone and purpose.

  “Before we go any further,” the Guildmaster said, his tone now more businesslike, “your wage will start at ten gold a week for official Guild commissions. Any direct work from the council, repairs, or outfitting is covered. Beyond that, any work you take on privately is yours to market as you see fit.”

  I looked at Seraphina and then nodded. “And supplies?”

  “The Guild provides common metals for Guild projects. If you’re working on something personal or experimental, that’s your responsibility. Special alloys, rare materials, and custom orders, you're responsible for the cost unless the Guild approves.” He turned to face me. “You’ll have the authority to buy directly from our vault, but keep records. The Council reviews all ledgers.”

  “Understood,” I replied.

  “Good.” He glanced at the next set of doors with a touch of pride. “Then let’s show you where it starts."

  The heat struck first, not oppressive, but noticeable, like stepping into the heart of something alive. Then came the sound. Not the chaos of a village forge, but the rhythmic hammering of organized purpose.

  The workshop extended farther than I expected. Rows of forges lined one wall, all clean and in use. A central aisle was filled with raw materials: ingots of steel, bronze, iron, and even bars I didn’t immediately recognize. Long benches flanked the room, covered with half-finished projects, specialized tools, and items labeled with etched nameplates.

  Above, the rafters soared high and arched, featuring an intricate system of chimneys and pulley lines for transporting heavy items. This wasn’t a forge. It was a cathedral of craft.

  Seraphina grabbed my arm. “This place is huge.”

  One of the assessors, the woman with the sharp braid and quiet eyes, moved up beside us. Her voice was soft, nearly drowned out by the ambient hum of bellows and cooling pipes.

  “We’ve been waiting a long time for someone who can use this place,” she said, glancing toward the rows of untouched forges and precision stations lining the far wall. “Most smiths come through here dreaming of mastery. Few ever see this wing. Fewer earn it. And none,” she added, looking at me now, “have ever filled all four stations in a single assessment.”

  “Let alone tried the fifth,” the other assessor added.

  My eyes took in the custom tongs, the rows of tools polished to a shine, and the water-cooled grinding wheels turning quietly.

  I turned to the Guildmaster. “Can I hire someone?”

  He blinked once, then smiled faintly. “You’re a certified master smith now, David. You can hire anyone who’ll work with you, apprentice, journeyman, or even commission another smith if they’ll agree to it.”

  I exhaled slowly. The forge. The tools. The freedom. And her, beside me.

  I turned to Seraphina. “Looks like we’re in business.”

  The Guildmaster and the other assessors led us past the central forges to the far end of the hall, where several smaller corridors branched off. At the end of one, he paused at a heavy oak door with an unengraved brass plate. He unlocked it with a key and stepped aside.

  “Your office,” he said plainly.

  The room was modest, with rough-hewn walls, a desk already piled with ledgers and paperwork, and a few empty shelves waiting for tools or books. A metal wall rack had slots for weapons or blades, most of which were empty. There was even a small, unlit hearth built into the side wall, which was clean.

  I stepped inside, feeling the weight of the day settle onto my shoulders. This was real now. A forge of my own. A door with no master behind it. My name wasn’t written here yet, but it would be.

  I set the paring blade, the hinge, the chisel, and the horseshoe. Each piece lay out like a memory, a quiet inventory of effort. But the katana, I didn’t let go of that. It remained sheathed and in my hand.

  Seraphina looked at me, then at the blade. “Not leaving that one?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. Some pieces they’re more than just steel.”

  The Guildmaster gave a slight nod, not asking any further questions. “Take your time. When you’re ready, we’ll introduce you to the staff and apprentices. For now, settle in.”

  He turned and walked back toward the main forge, leaving the door open behind him.

  Seraphina stepped inside and ran her fingers along the edge of the desk. “Feels like the start of something.”

  “It is,” I said, finally setting the katana down beside me as I sat. “The start of everything.”

  It didn’t take long for the Guildmaster to come back, this time with a group behind him, five in total. Three wore heavy aprons and shirts stained with soot, their arms thick with muscle and burn scars. The other two were younger, maybe teens, trying hard not to look nervous. Tools jingled at their belts.

  He stepped aside and motioned for us to come forward.

  “This is David,” the Guildmaster said. “And his wife, Seraphina. He’s our newest smith, and as of today, he is our master smith. You’ll show them the respect due to that title.”

  A pause of silence drifted. David felt the weight of every stare on him, older, weathered men and women who had been working these forges longer than he’d been alive. He straightened his shoulders, but the awkwardness sat in his gut like cooling slag. He looked too young for this. Too new. And now he was their master smith. Their boss.

  One of the older smiths, a balding man with a broad chest and a hammer tucked into his belt, finally stepped forward.

  “Name’s Corren. Been working the forge for three and twenty years.” He looked David over without challenge, just a calm, appraising glance. “Nice to have another real hand in the hall.”

  The others followed suit. A red-haired woman named Ketta gave a quick grin and a, “Hope you don’t mind noise. Forge four makes a racket.” The apprentices, clearly relieved by the relaxed tone, introduced themselves as Bran, Daphinia, and Nilo.

  “And I’m David’s wife, Seraphina,” she said, stepping forward. “I’ll be helping with logistics, sourcing, and anything else that needs doing.”

  Corren gave her an approving nod. “We could use someone with a sharp head. Things move faster than they’re tracked around here.”

  The Guildmaster clapped his hands once. “Good. Get acquainted. David, your forge is yours to set up as you see fit. Any Guild commissions will be brought directly to your office. For anything else, Seraphina can coordinate with the quartermaster.”

  He paused, then added with a wry half-smile, “Don’t take too long getting comfortable. The requests have already started coming in.”

  Then he was gone again, leaving them standing around us, not quite measuring but watching and waiting. Not skeptics. Just smiths, curious about what kind of fire I’d bring to the hall.

  The streets were quieter as we left the guildhall. The heat from the forge still clung to my clothes, and the ache in my shoulders had become something almost satisfying. Next to me, Seraphina walked with a relaxed gait, her hair catching the last golden streaks of sunlight.

  She waited until we were halfway down the block from the hall before speaking. “Ten gold a week,” she said, almost under her breath. “Just for guild work.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. And we keep everything from our own commissions, minus materials.”

  She shook her head slowly, half in disbelief. “Two days ago, I was counting coins in my head, trying to figure out how long we could afford the Copper Candle.” She glanced sideways at me. “You realize that’s more than my father made in a season running the general store?”

  “I don’t think it’s hit me yet either,” I admitted. “It still feels like someone’s going to tap me on the shoulder and say, ‘That forge wasn’t for you. Sorry. Wrong, David.’”

  Seraphina slipped her arm through mine. “No one’s coming to take it back. You earned it. As a reward, you are getting lots of sex tonight.”

  We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the scent of baked bread and chimney smoke wafting through the streets as lanterns flickered to life above the shop windows.

  Back at the Copper Candle, we entered the common room just as the dinner rush was starting to slow down. The innkeeper waved to us, and a freshly baked loaf of bread, along with a pot of stew, was already waiting at our usual table.

  David gently placed the katana on the table as he sat next to Seraphina. The weight of the day hadn’t fully settled yet, but the warmth of the inn’s common room provided comfort. Seraphina leaned into him slightly, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of her mug.

  A few minutes later, Mark walked through the doorway and spotted them right away.

  “There you are,” he said, weaving between a pair of tables before sliding onto the bench across from them. His eyes landed on the katana. “Wait, is that what you made for the assessment?”

  David gave a small smile. “One of the items.”

  Mark blinked. “One?”

  Seraphina lifted her wrist, the bracelet catching the lantern light. “He made this too,” she said softly, pride clear in her voice.

  Mark stared for a moment before leaning forward. “Can I?”

  David nodded and pushed the katana across the table.

  Mark carefully lifted it, then drew the blade out inch by inch. His breath caught.

  “By the goddess…” he whispered. “The balance of the fold pattern is a masterwork. No beyond. I’ve never even seen this kind of layering before.”

  He glanced up, half in disbelief. “You made this in four hours?”

  David shrugged, not flippantly, just truthfully. “I made that in one hour. The other items took a little longer. The metal wanted to become something. I just listened.”

  Mark stared at him a moment longer before sheathing the blade with respect. “Remind me never to challenge you.”

  David leaned back slightly. “So, did you get any offers?”

  Mark let out a brief sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Talked to a few forge masters. Most were polite, a couple were blunt. Said they’d think about it and get back to me.” He shook his head. “Which probably means no.”

  “You never know,” Seraphina said with a hopeful smile.

  David nodded. “Well, I need to head to the guild in the morning. Got to pick up the rest of the pieces from the test. I also plan to buy some new clothes. You want to come with us?”

  Mark perked up at that. “Yeah, actually. I’d like to see what else you made if that katana’s just one of them…”

  David grinned. “Then meet us here after breakfast.”

  “Deal.”