It had been a week since the last delivery to Elian. The forge was quiet again, save for the occasional clink of tools and the low hum of the furnace. Dory and Horg had set out early that morning, traveling to Foothills to gather the raw materials they needed to make iron ingots.
The path was rocky, lined with sparse trees and patches of grass that swayed lightly in the morning breeze. Horg had loaded a cart with sacks of iron ore, coal, and a few bags of flux. Dory walked beside him, keeping pace, examining the ore closely, testing its weight and feel.
"You've got a good eye for quality," Horg said without looking at him. "You can tell the difference between decent and poor iron even without touching the fire."
Dory adjusted his glasses and smiled slightly. "It comes with practice… and a little patience." He paused, kicking at a loose stone along the path. "You've taught me a lot already. I just have to keep paying attention."
