The carriage finally ca to a stop in front of a massive structure, its presence dominating the street with an air of undeniable prestige. Unlike Harven’s modest-looking store back in Elyndra, this one was definitely a fortress of craftsmanship.
The workshop lood like a palace of industry—an enormous multi-leveled building forged from dark stone and reinforced with gleaming tal plates. Towering chimneys jutted skyward, expelling faint trails of steam and smoke, while massive gears embedded into the outer walls slowly turned with chanical precision. The entrance was frad by thick, ornately carved steel beams, their surfaces etched with intricate patterns of interwoven cogs and mineral inlays that shimred under the crystalline street lamps.
Unlike the more refined elegance of Elyndran blacksmiths, Caelestoria’s artisans worked with a raw, almost industrial precision—function and form lded into seamless unity.
Velren took in the sight before glancing at Nico.
"Say, if Caelestoria’s famous for its craftsmanship and steelwork," he mused, "then why bother asking for weaponry from Elyndra?"
Nico smirked, stepping down from the carriage.
"Because good steel ain’t just about who forges it," he said. "It’s about the materials. Caelestoria’s got the best smiths, but Elyndra’s got access to certain refined ores and alchemical treatnts that aren’t easy to co by here. So of the best enchantnt-grade alloys? Those co from Elyndran workshops. And when you combine that with Caelestorian engineering..."
He gestured toward the grand workshop before them.
"You get sothing even better."
Velren humd, glancing back at the towering structure. A fusion of Elyndran refinent and Caelestorian ingenuity, huh? Now that was an interesting thought.
Before Velren could dwell on the thought any longer, the heavy clang of boots against tal flooring drew his attention.
A broad-shouldered man approached, his presence as solid as the forge itself. A thick, well-grood beard frad his strong jaw, streaked with silver that matched the sharp glint in his deep-set eyes. His leather apron bore the marks of countless hours at the forge—streaks of soot, faint burns, and the unmistakable scent of tal and oil. Scarred, calloused hands rested on his crossed arms, with his reinforced gloves still stained from recent work.
’Is this the common appearance of the blacksmiths of this world..?’
"Nico," he rumbled, voice like grinding steel. "Took your damn ti getting here."
Nico let out a short chuckle and stepped forward, clasping the blacksmith’s hand in a firm shake.
"Ran into a few disturbances on the road, Dain," he said casually.
The blacksmith—Dain—raised an eyebrow.
"That so?" His grip was as strong as his fra, but there was an ease to the way he held himself—like a man who had seen trouble before and wasn’t surprised to hear of more.
"Figured as much. Roads aren’t what they used to be."
His gaze then shifted, finally landing on Velren.
"And this one?"
"Student from the Academy. My escort."
Velren inclined his head slightly in greeting.
"Velren."
Dain gave him a brief nod, but his real attention wasn’t on Velren himself—it was on his waist. Or, more precisely, the katana strapped to it. His sharp eyes lingered on the weapon for a mont.
"I see..." he muttered, but whatever thought crossed his mind, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he exhaled and rolled his shoulders. "Well, as long as you’re in one piece and my supplies made it here, that’s what matters."
Nico let out a low hum. "Actually, speaking of the disturbance back then..."
He sighed deeply.
"It actually cost us the black powder explosives."
Dain clicked his tongue but didn’t seem particularly surprised. "Tch. Figures." He waved a hand dismissively. "Can’t be helped. I’ll put the tab on Harven."
Before Nico could respond, Velren spoke up.
"Pardon , but... what if we compensate you with sothing else?"
Dain crossed his arms, studying Velren with a curious gaze.
"And what exactly do you have in mind?"
Nico, who had initially seed confused, suddenly exhaled through his nose in realization. He stayed quiet as he watched Velren step away without a word.
Velren made his way around to the back of the carriage, unlatching the rear compartnt. He reached inside, grasping hold of the large, cloth-wrapped item that had been stowed away. It was heavy, but not unmanageable, and with a firm pull, he hauled it out and carried it over to where Nico and Dain stood.
With a controlled motion, Velren set the bundle down on the ground near them. Then, without hesitation, he pulled the cloth away.
Dain’s eyes widened in shock.
"Th—This is...!"
There, lying before them, was the wyvern heart—dark, dense, and pulsing faintly with lingering traces of energy. The organ was massive, nearly the size of a man’s torso, and still bore the unmistakable essence of the beast it had once belonged to.
He had read about it before—how the organs of creatures like wyverns, drakes, and other high-tier beasts were prized commodities. Whether for alchemical use, forging enhancents, or arcane applications, they could fetch an impressive price.
Originally, he had planned to sell it for himself. But since Dain had demanded compensation, and that cost would ultimately fall on Harven, Velren figured this was fair. After all, it was him who used the black powder explosives. He owed Harven at least this much.
Dain crouched down, running his gloved fingers along the surface of the wyvern heart. His sharp eyes traced the intricate veins running through the organ, inspecting its texture, density, and the faint energy still lingering within. After a long mont, he exhaled, his expression hardening.
"Hmm... this is no good."
Velren blinked. What?
For a second, doubt crept into his mind. Is it not enough? He knew wyvern materials were valuable, but at the sa ti, he had no concrete idea how much the black powder explosives were actually worth.
As he was about to ask, Dain suddenly looked up.
"How much more do you want?"
"Yes?"
Dain arched an eyebrow.
"This heart alone is worth way more than a few barrels of black powder. So, how much more compensation are you asking for?"
Oh...
So that’s what he ant.
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