Alden's brain struggled to come to grips with what he had just seen. By all accounts, it was impossible, inconceivable and just way too implausible.
There was just no way this was real!
Behind the double door, a large, open space stretched. The air was thick, and the walls pulsed with deep, angry runes - as if they were responsible for offsetting some of the heat. Half-finished equipment lay strewn across numerous workspaces, and a crackling hearth to the side seemed to notice their presence, the flames snapping with more vigour.
A few wooden shelves lined the stone walls, filled to the brim with all sorts of strange vials, minerals and time-worn tomes. All that, however, was not what had shocked Alden so much.
It was the clangour of steel striking steel, a shrill, high-pitched ring. Then, it was a rough, laboured grunt. Then, a silhouette seemed to become clearer, a wizened beard braided tight.
Finally, a bulging short-statured shadow rippled with herculean strength.
The shadow paused and turned, bushy eyebrows creased in a scowl.
The individual had greyish-white hair and wrinkles similar to Morrigan, but that was where the similarities ended and the differences began. His skin had a sheen akin to burnished bronze, and deep-set eyes the shade of rusted copper. His face was weathered and rough, almost as old as time itself… a square jaw resembling granite, and a body as durable as ivory.
Elder Grimnar was short.
…In fact, he only reached up to Alden's chest.
Recalling the descriptions he had read, and the tales that had been passed down from the Age of Prosperity, Alden's mind made a startling connection.
Alden's sense of reality shattered like a mirror. The white-haired young man was beyond stunned. He was looking at a living, breathing, remnant of an Age long past.
Alden blinked, then blinked again, wondering if he was hallucinating. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, for him… the sight of the blacksmith remained the same, no matter how many more seconds passed.
That question reverberated in his mind like a distant gong.
How was Elder Grimnar still kicking?
It was well known that the Dwarves had been wiped out by the Great Collision and the subsequent corruption that had spread through their race - some of them transforming into Dark Dwarves succumbing entirely to the Defilement, while others were unable handle its strain, and died on the spot.
For all intents and purposes, the Dwarven Race was extinct.
…Or should have been, at least.
Alden shook his head, his mind latching onto another detail that didn't quite make sense. What was Elder Grimnar doing here, beneath the Citadel of the Ember Clan?
Was he working for the flame wielders?
If so, how had they managed to recruit him? And why had they given him the title of Honorary Elder?
Alden's mind conjured the image of the strange runes he saw on the gate.
The Keeper's Apprentice shifted his gaze towards the heir of the Ember Clan, watching as he summoned a wooden tray filled with freshly baked goods and a stronger, more alcoholic version of the fiery mead - a fire spirit - from his Dimensional Bracelet.
A delicious aroma began to waft throughout the forge.
Alden's stomach grumbled silently.
Drakon bowed, pushing the tray out in front of him.
"Honored Elder, I humbly offer you this. My friend here would like to hire your services."
The white-haired young man watched with trepidation as the old dwarf stared at them, his expression inscrutable. The silence stretched, thick, uncomfortable and tense, like an invisible weight pressing down on their souls.
Suddenly, Alden felt like he and Drakon had just made a very big error; the slowly building tension a sign of an approaching, and very calamitous storm.
He noticed the item which Elder Grimnar had been crafting cool, slowly turning brittle. An ominous premonition racked Alden's mind.
Just as a cold shiver crawled down his spine, a terrifying pressure exploded forth from the honorary elder. The domineering aura locked down onto the entire space - Alden and Drakon froze, unable to move, and not even daring to breathe.
Elder Grimnar approached, one slow, steady step at a time, until only a narrow distance separated them. The old blacksmith tossed the now useless scrap of metal to the side, showing no reaction as it crashed into a pile of partially completed weapons.
The young men trembled, both turning very pale.
Drakon still had his head down, so it fell on Alden to meet the dwarf's copper gaze. Alden towered above Elder Grimnar like a mountain, his shadow almost blotting out the entirety of the crafter's diminutive frame.
The Keeper's Apprentice felt incredibly awkward. Not just for barging into the honorary elder's forge, which had doubtless ruffled the feathers of the old dwarf, but also because of the sizable height difference between him and Elder Grimnar. Based on the way the ancient crafter was glaring at him, Alden surmised the dwarf's height was a sore spot.
One he should avoid at all costs.
Elder Grimnar was already mad.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COME IN HERE, DISTRACT ME AT A CRITICAL MOMENT, AND THEN REQUEST SOMETHING OF ME? THE NERVE! THE GALL! THE SHEER STUPIDITY OF YOU HARE-BRAINED BRATS!"
The crafter roared, a vein pulsing visibly on his temple. He swiped at the air, and a baked good flew into his mouth.
The honorary Elder chewed aggressively, the sharp crunch of the sweet pastry reverberating like an ill omen of what fate might soon await the young men. The Ember Heir and his companion shivered, shrinking under the dwarf's withering gaze.
After devouring a few more baked goods, and taking a large draught of the fire spirit, the old forger seemed to calm down.
…At least enough to retract his overbearing pressure.
Alden's body unconsciously sagged, cold sweat lining the inside of his clothes. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, but Elder Grimnar was not done yet.
The dwarf turned towards Drakon who had straightened from his bow.
"Hey brat. Tell your father and his cadre of bastards I will not forge any more weapons for them, unless they agree to my demands… oh wait, I forgot… you have Daddy Issues."
Alden witnessed a shadow fall across Drakon's face as the red-robed heir clenched his jaw tight. The elderly blacksmith then whirled towards him, and Alden couldn't suppress the tremor that racked his frame.
"Oi, Infatuated Fool…"
Alden raised a brow at the name.
"Don't you raise your brow at me! You have the look of a person who fell in love, only to get his heart broken because he was too stupid to let his other half in."
Elder Grimnar's accuracy stunned Alden. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, the crafter's mocking tone almost pushing him over the edge.
…What did he know about his relationship with Celeste?
"What do you want me to forge?"
The dwarf sighed, tapping his foot impatiently.
Alden took a deep breath.
"I would like an unbreakable sword. An impervious blade that won't break, won't bend, and won't rust. A blade immune to decay… and a blade even the Abyss will fear."
Elder Grimnar blinked, incredulous, before he tilted his head back and roared.
His mocking laughter bounced off the walls of the forge.