Grindelna led them through the workshop while the steady ringing of hammers echoed somewhere in the distance. The air smelled sharply of hot metal and cold stone as they passed glowing forges, heavy iron anvils, and long racks of half-finished blades. Morwenna's eyes moved over everything they passed, quietly cataloguing and storing every detail.
When the old goblin turned down a different corridor, the ambient sounds and intense heat began to fade. The rough walls grew noticeably smoother, the stone transitioning into a deep, polished black.
She eventually stopped in front of a heavy iron door that bore no symbols or markings of any kind. It was just a solid slab of dark metal fitted with a simple iron ring for a handle, which she gripped and pulled open.
The room beyond was perfectly circular, its high vaulted ceiling lost completely in the upper shadows. A soft, diffuse light emanated from somewhere she couldn't identify, illuminating the space evenly without casting a single shadow. The curved walls were completely lined with weapons, but they certainly weren't conventional ones.
Morwenna stepped cautiously inside, allowing her parents and Threndak to follow close behind.
The exotic weapons hung on sturdy racks, wooden pegs, and iron hooks deliberately shaped like human hands. Some rested securely on polished stands, while others simply floated in place, suspended in the air by a subtle magic she couldn't even feel.
She walked slowly toward the nearest wall to get a better look.
A vicious blade curved like a crescent moon hung at eye level, its inner edge serrated with teeth finer than needles and its hilt wrapped in leather the exact colour of dried blood.
Beside it hung a long chain with weighted ends, each weight shaped like a teardrop that tapered to a razor-sharp tip. The connecting links were incredibly fine, looking almost delicate despite their obvious lethality.
Nearby, a pair of ornate rings sat resting on a velvet cushion. They clearly weren't jewellery, but rather concealed weapons designed so the tops could be pressed to rapidly release a hair-thin needle from the band.
"Paralytic," Grindelna explained without being asked. "Or lethal poison. It depends entirely on what you choose to load."
Further along the wall hung a whip made of jointed metal segments that ended in a cruel barb, resting coiled like a sleeping snake. Next to it vibrated a throwing disk with a hollow centre and razor-sharp edges, humming faintly against its mounting bracket.
She also saw a short completely lacking a hilt, just a grip wrapped tightly in wire that tapered to a point so incredibly fine it vanished from sight at certain angles.
Below that sat a pair of leather boots housing concealed steel spikes designed to spring violently from the toes, and an elegant hand fan boasting metal ribs sharp enough to draw blood at the slightest brush.
Grindelna reached out and tapped a heavy metal bracelet, causing a hidden blade as narrow as a fingernail to slide silently from the underside.
After admiring the initial displays, they moved on, walking through a narrow connecting corridor lined with shelves of polished stone. Each shelf held a single weapon, none of them arranged by size or type, sitting completely isolated like ancient exhibits in a museum.
Grindelna walked steadily ahead, her heavy boots making absolutely no sound against the stone floor.
The narrow corridor eventually opened up into a massive, wide chamber with another high, vaulted ceiling. Normal torches burned brightly in iron brackets, but the majority of the illumination came from the cavern walls themselves, where thick veins of pale crystal ran naturally through the rock to cast everything in a soft, even white glow.
Weapons covered every available surface along the massive walls, numbering in the hundreds, if not the thousands.
Morwenna stopped completely at the threshold to take it all in.
Swords and daggers hung in massive racks, ranging from deeply curved blades to perfectly straight edges, with some designed to split cleanly down the middle. A few were longer than her entire arm, while others were small enough to hide easily in the palm of her hand.
Spears leaned heavily against the stone walls, their polished heads shaped like falling leaves, flickering flames, and strange geometric designs she hadn't seen before.
Heavy chains coiled neatly on iron hooks, ending in heavy weights, vicious grappling hooks, or blades so incredibly fine they looked exactly like silver needles.
The sprawling collection continued with wooden nunchaku, flexible three-section staffs, deadly rope darts, and sets of throwing knives arranged in perfect circles with their points aimed inward.
Entire sections of the wall were dedicated exclusively to different types of warfare, displaying rows of curved hand axes, spiked maces, and heavy flails that hung perfectly still in the quiet air.
A wide, completely clear space dominated the very centre of the room. The smooth stone floor was carefully marked with intersecting circles, clearly serving as a designated testing ground.
Grindelna finally turned around to face her.
Morwenna simply stood there, turning in a slow circle as she took in the staggering variety of lethal tools, noting segmented staves connected by high-tension wire and thick leather belts housing hidden garrotes.
Grindelna watched the young girl's thorough assessment. "What kind of weapon do you want?"
Morwenna remained silent for a long moment.
The sheer volume of weapons on the surrounding walls seemed to press inward toward her, each individual piece waiting patiently to be chosen. She knew that each one possessed its own unique weight, its own specific balance, and its own distinct way of moving through the air.
She thought deeply about the video games she had played in her previous life, remembering the countless hours she had spent carefully choosing classes, testing various builds, and endlessly optimizing her damage output.
She had always gravitated toward the assassin class. She had never wanted to be the slow warrior dragging a heavy blade around, nor the vulnerable mage standing safely at a distance.
She strongly preferred the quiet stealth, the demanding precision, and the execution of a single, devastating strike that ended a fight before it even officially started.
She recalled wielding dual daggers in Sword Art Online: Integral Factor, relishing the thrilling sensation of closing the distance fast, striking hard, and vanishing immediately.
She remembered the dual blades in Where Winds Meet and the way they moved so fluidly and incredibly fast. They crossed, blocked, and struck in rapid succession, ensuring she never stayed in one place long enough to take a solid hit.
She also loved the concept of hidden weapons and the undeniable satisfaction of pulling a blade from somewhere no one ever expected. She liked the idea of fine needles, short blades, and throwing knives small enough to hide completely up a dark sleeve.
To put it simply, she thought they were incredibly cool.
She finally opened her mouth to answer.
"Dagger," she requested carefully. "Dual daggers. Short knives. Blades." She paused for a second before adding, "Needles. Hidden weapons."
Her voice grew noticeably quieter as she went down the list. Her parents were watching her closely from the sidelines. Jack's expression remained perfectly unreadable, but Jane's delicate eyebrows had climbed steadily toward her hairline.
Morwenna felt her cheeks go hot with sudden embarrassment.
She stubbornly kept talking anyway, though her volume dropped to almost a whisper.
"Maybe throwing knives. Or something small and fast."
The vast chamber fell into a heavy silence.
Then, Grindelna laughed.
It wasn't a cruel sound, nor was it a polite chuckle. It carried the natural ease of someone who had lived long enough to see absolutely everything, yet still managed to find room to be genuinely surprised. Her pale eyes crinkled deeply at the corners as she shook her head, her stark white hair catching the soft crystal light.
"Why?" Grindelna asked.
Morwenna looked down at the stone floor, then glanced at the weapon-covered walls, then checked on her parents, who were still staring at her. Finally, she looked back at Grindelna.
"Because it seems cool."
Grindelna laughed again. Beside her, Threndak's wide mouth did something strange that might have actually been a smile. Jack looked straight up at the high ceiling in exasperation, while Jane simply pressed her lips firmly together to hide her deep amusement.
The old smith shook her head, thoroughly amused. "You are wonderfully honest. That's quite rare."
She walked over to a heavy wooden cabinet near the wall, pulled out a thick leather roll, spreading it open across a nearby stone table to reveal rows of fine metal needles. They came in different lengths and varying thicknesses, with some bearing deep grooves meant to hold poison while others were viciously barbedd.
"Let us discuss your additional magical lines," Grindelna said, looking up from the table. "What exactly do you carry in your blood?"
"Veela," Morwenna answered. "And Lethifold."
Grindelna's white brows rose slightly as she studied the little girl, a brand new note of professional interest settling into her sharp gaze. Her pale grey eyes traced carefully over Morwenna's face, taking in the striking two-toned hair and noting the quiet, unnatural steadiness in the way she stood.
"Lethifold," Grindelna repeated, her voice slow and thoughtful. "That's exceptional for deep concealment, utter stillness, and complete silence."
Her attention drifted briefly toward the massive wall of weapons before snapping back. "It perfectly suits exactly what you described. Light blades. Hidden tools. The kind of things that strike a fatal blow long before they are ever seen."
She turned and moved purposefully toward a specific rack along the far wall. Her scarred hand passed slowly over the arranged weapons without actually touching them, hovering just above the cold steel as if she could somehow read their history and balance through their sheer physical presence alone.
"We will test each type," Grindelna decided. "You will try them all, and I will watch."
She glanced back over her shoulder, a faint curve touching her mouth. "Then we will compare the results."
The very first weapon was a standard dagger. It featured a single, undecorated blade and a simple leather-wrapped handle.
Grindelna handed it over hilt-first. "Hold it."
Morwenna took the weapon, immediately finding the heavy weight unfamiliar. The steel blade was significantly longer than her palm, and its honed edge caught the ambient light sharply.
"Now move with it," Grindelna instructed, stepping back to give her space. "Step forward. Strike. Retreat."
The young witch tried to follow the instructions. Her feet found their placement on the marked floor, but the blade felt incredibly heavy in her hand, dragging her arm downward as if begging to be dropped. She swung it awkwardly once, tried to recover and swung twice, and then stepped quickly back out of the stance.
Grindelna watched the entire sequence closely, her face giving absolutely nothing away.
"Too heavy," she finally judged. "Your wrist drops noticeably after the second strike, and the excessive length pulls your entire arm down."
Morwenna willingly handed the heavy dagger back, and Grindelna quickly swapped it for a dedicated practice blade. It was perfectly weighted to match a real weapon, but the cutting edge was completely dull. A target stood waiting at the far end of the testing circles—a worn leather dummy stuffed with some sort of heavy material that shifted slightly when struck.
"Strike the target," Grindelna commanded sharply. "Do it fast. Don't stop to think."
Morwenna threw the blade on pure instinct.
Acting purely on instinct, Morwenna threw the blade. It flew through the air and stuck firmly into the dummy, though it hit the shoulder rather than the heart.
"Again."
She threw a second blade, landing this one much closer by striking the dummy in the ribs.
"Again."
Her third consecutive throw hit the dummy directly in the throat, sinking surprisingly deep into the tough leather exterior.
Grindelna walked over to retrieve the weapons from the dummy. "You're remarkably accurate when you stop thinking about the mechanics," she noted. "When you overthink the throw, you hesitate, and your aim goes wide."
Morwenna gave a small nod of understanding.
The dual daggers were brought out next.
The goblin placed one securely in each of the girl's hands. These blades were much shorter than the previous pair, feeling incredibly light and tapering to an almost needle-thin point. They settled completely differently into her grip, perfectly balanced in a way that practically invited fluid movement.
"Watch my form," Grindelna commanded.
The old smith demonstrated the required sequence just once. She crossed her arms, executed a rapid strike, crossed them again to block, pivoted smoothly on her heel, and landed a final, devastating blow. The entire motion was remarkably clean and brutally efficient.
"Now you try."
Morwenna attempted to follow the sequence. Her right hand moved first, executing the strike with sharp precision, but her left hand lagged a fraction of a second behind, causing the blade to drag awkwardly where the other had cut cleanly.
Grindelna observed the flawed movement without interrupting, waiting until the girl finished before speaking up. "You are left-handed."
"Yes," Morwenna admitted.
"Then your right side must learn to keep up the pace," the smith corrected firmly. "Dual weapons only work properly when both hands are truly equal."
Accepting the criticism, Morwenna reset her footing and tried the sequence again, leading with her dominant left hand this time.
The motion was noticeably faster, and while her right hand still followed slightly off-tempo, it was much closer than before. She crossed the blades, struck outward, pivoted on her heel, and delivered a clean thrust.
She continued running through the sequence, slowly settling into the demanding rhythm as the blades began to move together. They weren't moving perfectly yet, but they weren't fighting against each other anymore, either.
Each fluid motion naturally fed into the next, until the cold steel felt less like a pair of tools and more like a natural extension of her own arms.
When she finally stopped the drill, her breathing had quickened considerably from the exertion.
Grindelna stepped forward and gently took the practice daggers from her sweaty hands. "Much better."
She weighed the weapons briefly in her palms before setting them aside on the stone table. "The dual blades certainly suit you. They force absolute physical balance. Your stronger left side leads the dance, and your right side learns the steps. Over enough time, they will meet perfectly in the middle."
They moved on to testing short knives.
Grindelna handed her a compact weapon no longer than her palm, its grip wrapped tightly in rough cord to prevent slipping. The steel was severely curved, and the point remained dangerously sharp even on a designated practice weapon.
"Conceal it," Grindelna instructed.
Morwenna quickly slipped the weapon up into her sleeve, letting the cold metal rest flat against her inner forearm. With a sharp flick of her wrist, the knife dropped flawlessly into her waiting palm.
"Good," the smith praised. "Now, strike the target without looking."
A new leather dummy had silently appeared directly behind her, though she had absolutely no idea when it had been placed there. She spun on her heel, the knife already secure in her hand, and struck hard. The blade buried itself in the dummy's shoulder once again.
Grindelna gave a slow nod of approval. "You are incredibly fast. That is your true advantage in a fight. You must always prioritize speed over brute strength."