The sword gleamed under the dim light, its sharp edges catching the faint glow of the forge. Ren ran a hand along the blade, feeling the weight of it in his grip.
It was perfect.
Satisfied, he stored the weapon in his space ring and turned to Baldrie, grinning.
"Thanks for the sword, old man. It's a masterpiece."
Baldrie waved him off like it was nothing. "Bah, don't thank me. I got to work with meteor ore. That's a rare treat, brat. You should be the one thanking me for using such fine materials on your sorry ass."
Ren chuckled. He'd gotten used to Baldrie's way of talking, but he still had one more question nagging at him.
"By the way, if I ever need to upgrade the sword, can I come back to you?"
Baldrie grabbed a jug of beer from the nearby table and took a deep swig before answering. "Hah! You think I'll still be here?"
Ren frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a wandering dwarf!" Baldrie declared dramatically, slamming his mug down. "Today I'm here, tomorrow I'm gods-know-where. No fixed address, no responsibilities, just adventure and booze!"
Ren raised an eyebrow. "So basically, you're homeless."
Baldrie choked mid-drink, spluttering beer onto the forge floor. He coughed violently before glaring at Ren. "Brat, it's called freedom! Not being tied down! Exploring the world! Living on my own terms!"
Ren smirked. "Riiight. Sounds like a fancy way of saying you're running away from debt collectors."
Baldrie clicked his tongue. "Tch. Don't go around exposing people like that, brat."
Ren laughed before asking, "So, if I somehow find you again, will you upgrade my sword?"
Baldrie rubbed his beard, pretending to think about it before nodding. "Sure. If you manage to track me down, and if you have the gold to pay for it, I'll sharpen it up for you."
Ren sighed in relief. "Good, then I'll—"
SMACK!
A paper suddenly hit Ren's forehead. He peeled it off, confused, and glanced at it.
His face paled.
"2000 gold?! FOR ONE SWORD?!"
Baldrie took another sip of beer and shrugged. "What, you thought quality craftsmanship was free? That's premium work, brat. Pay up!"
Ren felt his soul leave his body. "This is daylight robbery!"
Baldrie grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Sun's still up, ain't it?"
Ren looked at the bill, then at his rapidly thinning coin pouch, then back at the bill. He felt like crying.
"Old man, can't you give a discount? Maybe… a hero's discount? A first-time customer discount? A please-don't-make-me-go-bankrupt discount?"
Baldrie let out a deep belly laugh. "Discount? The only thing getting cut here is your wallet, brat!"
Ren groaned in defeat as he handed over the gold. His hands trembled as he counted each coin. Every clink of gold hitting Baldrie's counter felt like a dagger stabbing into his chest.
After what felt like a funeral procession for his finances, Ren finally trudged out of the smithy. His steps were slow, as if the weight of his now-empty wallet had physically weakened him.
He glanced at the sword stored in his ring.
'It's a good sword. But damn, it was expensive.'
As he walked down the dimly lit street, his thoughts drifted back to something far more troubling.
The dream.
The dream he had while passed out in Baldrie's smithy.
It wasn't just any dream—it felt real. Too real.
He had seen the moment that had shattered his life.
Lyra standing over him, announcing their engagement was over.
Elara sneering, stripping him of his place in the family.
The whispers, the rumors, the betrayal.
He had fought hard in that duel. He had given everything. But in the end, Lyra won, and with that victory, she tore everything away from him.
His hands clenched into fists.
They had humiliated him.
They had abandoned him.
They had cast him aside like he was nothing.
His heart burned with a cold, quiet rage.
I will let them taste their own medicine.
They thought he was weak? Fine.
They thought he was finished? Fine.
They thought he would just accept his fate? Let them think that.
But one day… one day, they would regret everything.
A slow smirk crept onto his face as he pulled his hood over his head.