For two more weeks, Reynard had his peace.
Then, he sold a batch of potions to the Order of Snow.
***
Reynard woke up from the loud banging on the door. He immediately sat up and grabbed his weapon holster.
This was exactly what Marien had warned him about yesterday.
That night, instead of going to sleep in an inn, he settled for the night on the workshop's floor, right next to Chili's indoor pen. In clothing, and with weapons nearby.
The adolescent Forge-Boar woke up, too. He huffed out a plume of fire and smoke.
Reynard put the holster on and cast Spirit Armor on himself. A stronger hit landed on the door. The entire workshop shook from the force of the blow, and the door creaked pathetically. It was one good blow away from falling apart.
"We know you are here, smith! Don't think that this will stop us!" a familiar voice shouted from the other side. "We warned you! This is your last chance to beg for forgiveness!"
