After waking up Robert, the group exited the forge. The moonlight shone above them as the group started walking back to town.
The night air was cold, crisp enough to bite through lingering heat from the forge. It carried the faint scent of smoke, damp stone, and metal; it was rather comforting.
For a while, no one spoke, well, except for Robert, who was pretty much talking to himself in a low murmur. Their boots crunched softly against gravel and packed dirt, the sound echoing faintly between stone houses.
Lamps burned low along the road, their yellow light casting long, wavering shadows that stretched and twisted across the ground.
Still, there were a few people who continued working through the night as the sound of a hammer hitting an anvil could be heard here and there.
People laughed softly as they passed by, a pair of miners arguing about something trivial, a smith wiping sweat from his brow as if tonight were no different from any other.
