Chapter 156 - Hard At Work

Sonder watched as Lunt Junior worked, the rhythmic clang of his hammer on hot metal filling the forge. He was shaping what looked like a sword, though it was smaller than she had expected.

The metal rod, glowing a bright yellow from the heat, seemed too short to be a proper blade—perhaps suitable for a dwarf or someone her own height, but for a taller race, it would barely pass as a dagger.

She didn't know much about smithing, but still, she watched, fascinated by his focus and precision.

Vell and Master Lunt had wandered off together, most likely doing whatever old men would be doing in each other's company. Drink and smoke most likely.

She'd seen Vell smoke plenty of times, though she couldn't quite remember if he drank.

Sonder stayed, thinking that she might offer Lunt Junior some company. At first, she was interested in his work, but as time wore on, boredom began to creep in.

Out of all the skills she could learn, smithing didn't seem to spark much excitement. She wondered briefly if Vell had brought her here with the intention of her picking up the craft.

Lost in thought, she stared intently at Lunt Junior as he worked, her pale, cloudy eyes fixed on him. It didn't take long for her unwavering gaze to unnerve the young dwarf.

He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. He wasn't used to strangers—most of the people he encountered were friends and extended family, usually also dwarves.

This girl was something else entirely. Her milky eyes seemed distant and lifeless, and her strange, detached demeanor seemed so eerie.

And then there was it.

Lunt Junior tried not to look, knowing it was rude to stare, but his eyes kept darting to the hilt protruding from her chest. The sight gnawed at him, filling his head with unspoken questions.

Finally, he blurted out, "Do you want me to replace it?"

"What?" Sonder asked as she wasn't paying attention.

"The sword in your chest," he said, gesturing vaguely toward it. "I'm not sure how it got there, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but... it's starting to rust. It's dull, too. And, well... there's probably other grime on it."

Sonder glanced down at the blade embedded in her torso, suddenly very aware of its presence. Her fingers brushed against the worn hilt.

"Thank you for the offer," she replied slowly, "but it's not something I can just... take out." She gave the sword a small, rattling shake to emphasize her point.

"Not even with healing magic?" Lunt Junior asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"…I don't think so," Sonder said, her uncertainty evident. "Vell said he'd look into it, but he hasn't exactly gotten around to it yet."

The young dwarf frowned. "Can't he just pull it out? I've heard he's a great wizard."

Sonder hesitated, recalling Vell's explanation. "He told me it's not that simple. Apparently, if he removed it the wrong way, it'd be like taking out someone's bones and just... hoping for the best. You know, like suddenly yanking out a person's skull or spine and thinking everything would be fine."

Lunt Junior grimaced at the mental image. "I see."