Clara stood amidst the scattered bodies. Her gauntlets drenched in a thick black liquid. Shoulders heaved up and down, a testament to the arduous task she had accomplished. The sepia black mask on her face generated a sinister glow. A glow which caused those below her feet to stay put. Those who were also witnessing everything in the market square remained motionless as a result of this. She stretched her legs one after the other, missing some of the bodies on the floor by an inch or two.
On closer inspection, all of the bodies belonged to that of soldiers. Soldiers whose work was to ensure law and order in the square. Their medieval armors beaten and battered, soaked in their own blood. They now laid draped on the ground. Their faces contorted into hushed screams. These screams came out as groans and shrieks.
A couple of them had their faces smashed in by the use of an unknown weapon. Some had their limbs twisted at odd angles. Others had their bones sticking out of several parts of their bodies, their chain mail hauberks slashed. Padded under-armor garments exposed from within the slashed chain mails. One of the soldiers raised his hand, threatening to touch the surface of Clara's onyx armor.
His attempt backfired as a kick threw his hand off course and swung it forcefully to the side. Before he could brace himself for what was to come, a foot landed right on top of his head. A shriek of pain, escaped his lips as the stiletto of Clara's heel pierced his skin.
"Please spare me. We didn't mean it to cause such a commotion here"he pleaded, almost tearing up a little. Tears streamed down his face as the pain intensified instantaneously. This caused him to give up any form of hope that was building up in his heart.
How did it get this bad?
Clara wondered, her hand propped up against her shapely waist. She reminisced about everything that has happened so far.
[some minutes before the incident]
On one of the dimly lit streets of the medieval city, the wooden doors of the blacksmith's shop creaked open. Cold air rushed in, leaving a chilling feeling in its wake. It pierced the skins of those who were currently seated in the place. Some of these people were customers who were waiting to grab on to their orders. Others were just blacksmiths who had moved out of their workstations to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the seating area.
In a shadowed corner of the blacksmith's shop, a gothicseatingenclavehadrisen like a dark jewel amid the grit and flame. High-backedchairs of blackenedoak, adorned with intricately carved motifs of ironwork and twisted vines, cradled cushions of deep crimson velvet. A low iron table, etched with archaic runes and scorched patterns, sat between them, catching the flicker of iron sconces mounted on soot-stained walls.
Above, arched beams had supported chains and lanterns whose pale, wavering light cast dramatic shadows across the forge tools and anvils, turning them into sculptural silhouettes. A stone hearth with wrought-iron grates emitted a steady, warm glow, mingling with the scent of smoldering coal and molten metal. The air vibrated with the echo of distant hammer strikes, yet in this niche, time seemed suspended—a brooding, luxurious retreat where the beauty of fire and steel was matched only by the opulence of shadowed comfort. The place was a mixture of style and glam. Glam which arose from the gothic theme and it's ability to compliment the pale skins of those within the area.
Clara stood at the entrance, clearly stunned by the beauty of the interior. It has been only a month since she visited this market and she never knew such a place existed.
"Who kept this place hidden from me?"she asked rhetorically, with a smile creeping on to her covered face. The face which would have had most men drooling over it. It was very reasonable putting on her mask.
All of those within the seating area turned their heads to catch a glimpse of who was at the entrance. Some faces distorted into terrifying and disturbing expressions. Others were nonchalant about the whole situation. What is wrong with someone wearing a mask? They might have wondered.
The sound of glassware hitting each other echoed throughout the place, causing those who were still staring at Clara to come to their senses. A thick red liquid twirled seductively in each glassware as if they were been made to do that on purpose. The metallic scent of blood found its way through her mask and into her nostrils, making her lick her lips in satisfaction.
Is this place really a blacksmith's shop?
She zeroed her eyes around the room, trying to catch on to something which would indeed show that this was the place she was searching for. Time was no longer of the essence. She got engrossed in what was going on within the seating area and the conversations those within the place were having.
This was until something tapped on her pauldron. She wondered who could have touched her without her notice. Turning to the side though, she could see a small boy of Nesta's height standing behind her with a wooden slate in one hand and a calligraphy pen in the other.
"Hello madam, please can I take your order?"he asked politely, with the tip of the pen on his lips.
"How did you know that I'm a woman?"Clara inquired. She was astonished by the boy's boldness. Her hand slowly moved on top of her hips, where it stayed for a while.
The boy's black eyes followed her hand to where it was resting at the moment. His demeanor remained unfazed by what he was seeing.
"I didn't have to guess that hard miss. What your hand is resting on told me everything. Oh and don't count out those mountains"he replied honestly, shaking his head in the end but maintaining his cool. His actions seemed rehearsed like something he has done repeatedly.
"Are you the son of the blacksmith who owns this shop?"she asked, acting a bit nosy at the moment.
"Yep. He's my dad, he takes care of the crafting and I take care of the selling."
"Cool. I thought kids of your age would have been busy with training for the academy and all that. Its nice to hear there are several of you who wish to stay with the older generation…."she giggled. "May I know your name?"
"Well thanks… I also didn't know that there are people who cherish what I'm doing….."he said. A slight smile appeared on his face. "With the name though, I will tell you only on one condition.."
"And what condition is that?"
"You will have to become a regular customer of the Blackhammer family."
The Blackhammer family I've never heard of such a family before. Did they rose to fame within the last moon?
She wondered, trying to remember where she had heard the name. To no avail though, she shook her head and looked at the youngster. A baffled look plastered on her face behind the oni mask.
"Okay. I can also only accept your proposal on one condition… Are you ready to hear it?"
"Oh… I mean Yes, my lady."
"You are to make sure that whatever you give this regular customer is of a higher quality than what normal buyers receive.."she revealed her condition.
An awkward silence ensued between the two parties until the boy spoke.
"Talric. The name is Talric"he stretched out his hand for a handshake after spouting out his name.
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