Pyra 5 – Pyra 8, Imperial Year 1645
Newhope – The Eastern Continent
Newhope had grown. What had been a cluster of tents and rough huts was now a proper town. Wooden buildings lined the main street. A stone pier jutted into the harbor. The fish market bustled each morning, and the smell of salt and smoke hung in the air.
Edmund Voss – no lord, just Voss – stood at the end of the pier, watching the fishing boats return. His clothes were plain, his hands calloused. He looked like a fisherman, not a former noble.
"Edmund!" a woman called. "The morning catch is in."
"I'll be there."
He walked toward the market. His steward, Aldus, fell into step beside him.
"A ship from Luminara arrived overnight," Aldus said. "The captain brought news. Mostly gossip."
"What kind of gossip?"
"They say there's a new blacksmith in town. From Mesos. Silver hair, red eyes. Works alone. Makes good swords."
Voss shrugged. "Blacksmiths are useful."
"They also say he's handsome. The merchants' daughters are apparently smitten."
"I don't care if he's handsome. Can he fix an heirloom?"
Aldus nodded. "The captain says he's the best in the city."
"Good. That's what we need."
The Main Street – Morning
Elara Greenhill was helping rebuild a collapsed wall. Roderick carried stones. Celia mixed mortar. Corvin – the shipwreck survivor – hauled timber. Talia organized the supply line.
Voss approached.
"Elara," he said. "I need you to go to Luminara."
She set down her trowel. "Why?"
"My family heirloom. A silver locket. It was damaged in the evacuation. I need it repaired so I can sell it."
"Sell it?"
"We need materials. Lumber, stone, tools. The town is growing faster than our supplies. The locket is valuable. It could buy us another year."
Roderick stepped closer. "Why us?"
"Because you're discreet. And you know how to move through a city without drawing attention."
Celia raised an eyebrow. "What kind of locket?"
"An old thing. My mother's. It has a blue sapphire. The chain is broken, and the clasp is stuck." Voss pulled it from his pocket – a delicate silver oval, tarnished but still beautiful. "It should fetch a good price if it's repaired properly."
"And the blacksmith?" Corvin asked.
"The captain mentioned one. Silver hair, red eyes. From Mesos. He's supposed to be skilled."
"That's it?"
"That's it. I don't care if he's handsome or mysterious. I just need him to fix the locket."
Elara took the locket. "We'll go."
"Take a small group. Move quickly. Sell the locket, buy the supplies, and come back."
"And the blacksmith?"
"Get the repair done. If he's good, we'll use him again. If not, find someone else."
The Harbor – Afternoon
The ship was small, but fast. It would leave at dawn. Elara had gathered a small team: herself, Roderick, Celia, and Corvin. The others would stay to protect Newhope.
"What else did the captain say?" Celia asked.
"Lots of rumors," Corvin said. "The blacksmith's tavern – the Broken Anchor – is supposed to have cheap ale. And the owner is missing two fingers."
"Missing fingers?"
"War injury, they say."
Elara looked at the horizon. "We're not there for rumors. We're there for the locket."
"And the supplies."
"And the supplies."
The ship cast off at dawn.
The Evening Meal – The Square
Voss ate with the class. The meal was simple – fish, bread, boiled potatoes – but there was enough for everyone.
"Any other news from Luminara?" Talia asked.
"Nothing important," Voss said. "A new blacksmith. A tavern that asks too many questions. The usual city gossip."
"Questions about what?"
"Survivors. Cultists. The demon king." Voss shrugged. "Half the refugees ask those questions. Doesn't mean anything."
Elara nodded. "We'll keep our heads down. Get the locket fixed. Buy the supplies. Come home."
"Good."
The Dock – Dawn
The ship cast off at first light. Elara stood at the railing, watching Newhope shrink behind her.
"You're quiet," Roderick said.
"I'm thinking about the locket. It's all Voss has left of his mother."
"Then we'd better not lose it."
The ship sailed north, toward Luminara.
End of Chapter Eighty‑Six