you again! Tell me what I’ve missed!”
We then proceed to talk about Nicholas and his increasing height, Nathaniel and his love for hunting, and what I’ve been doing in the forge.
“I’m still doing the same old thing,” I say. “But I love it. Making farm tools and butcher knives is what I do. How’s business here?”
“Let me just say that I’ve learned how to forge a good sword,” he says. “The war is taking its toll here and I make more swords than just about anything else.”
“Makes for good business,” I observe. “Any news on the war?”
“Not much,” Gunther replies. “It’s sort of reached a stalemate in Watervale, just west of Corn Lake. No one can gain any ground.”
I nod.
“I’ve heard Tygnar is trying to move on them from the south,” he continues, “But Jarl Kjunn of Kera has been able to hold them off. Who knows for how much longer?”
“I hope all goes well,” I say quietly. “It would be bad for us all if Fearclan were to win this war.”
Gunther agrees with a slow nod, looking into the fire contemplatively. “That’s why we’ll win it,” he says. There are a few moments of silence. “Well…” He stands up and claps my shoulder. “I’m going to get to bed. I have to get up to my forge tomorrow.” He walks to a door on the wall and goes in to what I assume must be his bedroom. “Good night!”
A few minutes later, after the fire has died down and all is dark, I ask Ethan, “Did you notice anything wrong with Gunther?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing…”
I put my restless thoughts to the back of my head and force myself to sleep.
The next morning, we wake after Gunther has already gone. I find a note on the table that says, “Help yourself to breakfast. What’s mine is yours!”
We take his word to heart. After breakfast we head out of the house, towards the market district.
It’s early enough that the sky is blue and lit, but the sun is not yet over the mountain ridge. Sunlight is making its way down the western mountain faces, and is barely groping the top of Nringnar’s Deep. Trees bask in the sunlight, up and down the mountains.
The market is more alive this morning than it was yesterday evening. People wander in the thin crowd, looking for things they need or want. I find very quickly what I am looking for: a blanket for Nathaniel when he goes hunting. It’s made from assorted animal pelts, but it’s light and warm. That’s all that matters. If I could, I would have loved to buy the Fenrir Wolf pelt; Fenrir pelts are incredibly soft and comfortable, but sadly cost more than what we have. The beasts are tough and don’t come down easily, and on top of that the pelt would have come all the way from Frigys’kon, the land to the southeast, always in a blanket of snow.
Percival has some fun sorting through chess pieces and sets at a particular vendor. He doesn’t buy, but prefers to look.
“Does Gunther have a chess set?” he asks.
“Not that I’m aware,” I say. “I think I beat it out of him.”
“Probably true,” grins Percival.
Ethan somehow convinces me to let him get a small pouch of sugary treats. It’s with his own earnings so I figured he could.
We spend most of the day in the market. Then we make our way back to Gunther’s house.
I get bored rather quickly and decide to go find Gunther at his forge.
It’s not hard to find. I’ve had this city memorized since I was eight. I would come here with my father on little trips to buy supplies, or just for fun.
His forge is just as small as his house and made completely of stone brick, but for the thatched roof. I let myself in.
He glances up from his anvil. “Kadmus! Do you need something?”
“I want to talk to you, Gunther. I haven’t seen you in such a while. What’s really going on?”
He straightens up and his eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t seem yourself. What’s up?”
He smiles slightly and shakes his head at the floor. “You are as perceptive as you are big,” he says.
I sit down in the corner, resting my arm on the old wooden table, with an expression that says, “I’m waiting.”
He sets down his project and sits down across from me. Then he says, “Kadmus…” He shakes his head and covers his face like he’s embarrassed about something.
“What?” I