There was a small town called Ealdor, an unassuming village just outside the borders of the Gaul Kingdom. Not overly far from his home, but far enough that Elias chose to travel through his own power rather than take the scenic route by relying on a carriage.

 

There was a light rain falling from a grey, cloud-covered sky. His boots struck wet earth and the air carried the foul smell of cattle shit as he walked. 

 

The place hadn’t changed at all since the last time he’d been here.

 

The village had twenty houses in total, all made of wood with hay roofs. There was no inn, just a tavern with empty stables one might persuade the owner to let you sleep in for a silver or two. A single river and well provided the only sources of cleaning and drinking water. 

 

It was not a hovel, but nor was it an example of modern convenience. Although they had baths, indoor plumbing would not be coming here anytime soon. In all, Ealdor was a very inconsequential, dull and sleepy town that had little to offer.

 

Yet it was the perfect place to disappear in. 

 

You definitely would not expect such a place to be home of the realm’s greatest Blacksmith, Hunter St.James. And yes, that was blacksmith with a capital B. Such a difference was crucial here, as these were a people who were no craftsmen of mere mortal objects.

 

No, these were masters of the Black, a discipline of magic that, among other things, dealt in all manner of Devil-sealing arts. And that was simply what they were most famous for. In truth they were exceptional in dealing with many evil and supernatural entities, not just Devils. Naturally, the things they forged had a great restraining power to certain creatures.

 

It’s why Elias went through the great pains of tracking Hunter down in the first place all those years back. 

 

Just like then, he stood in front of an old wooden door. It took only a few knocks before a gruff voice greeted him. 

 

“Who is it?” 

 

“Elias Claybrook.”

 

The door flew open. It revealed a tall, sturdy man with shoulder-length hair tied back with a leather string. His face was slighter more wizened and red through years of standing in front of a hot forge, but he still held vestiges of his youthful handsomeness. 

 

The man grunted. “Guess you didn’t die.”

“Just barely though.”

“Other men who faced that thing couldn’t say the same. You’re lucky."

"I like to think it was mainly due to my great skill and bravery."

 

A snort. "Whatever makes you happy. So. I suppose she’s the one who ended up dead then?”

 

“Oh no. I married her.” Elias smiled. This earned him a raised brow. 

 

“Daring.” Was all he said. “Come on in then. I’m sure you’re here for a reason but supper’s already done. Help yourself to a plate if you want. My wife’s a dab hand at cooking.”

Wife....

 

Elias was somewhat stunned. This unsociable man actually found himself a wife? Miracles do happen, apparently. He followed the man inside and shut the door behind him. It was warm inside, and bright. The home was larger than the others and had a separate area for dining even if it wasn’t very big. However it was still more than enough to fit a long rectangular table that could comfortable seat six or more. 

 

Currently it seated one as he walked in. A girl. But she was an odd one with bandages over her face and as she took notice of Elias’ entrance her eyes held a chilling vacancy, a haunting emptiness. As if she barely registered, or cared, about anything at all. Yet for all that, she was amazingly pretty. 

 

Her hair was as stunningly bright and luxurious as his daughter’s own, exactly like threads of gold. And her eyes, though dull and nearly lifeless, still held a gem-like beauty like that of two brilliant rubies. 

 

Not a common color in humans, that….

 

Elias found himself staring at her for a moment, then turned his attention away when he heard someone speak.

 

“Who was it, dear?” The voice didn’t belong to the child or Hunter. Instead the words came from the mouth of a pretty woman with caramel brown hair and green eyes. Not a young lady, but a matured woman who still held much youth and vigor in her face. She seemed the type to smile easily and sincerely.

 

“And old friend.” Hunter replied. “Since I can’t hide her from you, I suppose you can go ahead and meet my wife.  Elias, Claire. Claire, Elias.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Elias smiled and intended to step forward to take her hand. But Hunter stopped him before he could make his move. 

 

“None of that here.” 

 

Elias laughed it off. Protective, wasn’t he? He didn’t mind it. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, my Lord.” The woman said. There was no bow, but it felt like there was. Elias looked at her in a new light. Those words, they were crisp and very well-spoken. There was a certain inflection to them, one that did not at all sound like what you would hear from a normal woman. Not to mention that he immediately recognized a kind of...graceful demeanor coming off of her. It was subtle, very subtle, but unmistakable.

 

This Claire was not of common birth. He was sure of it….But no. No, it wasn’t his business. 

 

“And who is this cute little button?” Elias instead chose to ask about the girl. 

 

Hunter took a seat at the head of the table and didn’t even bother to look at her. “She’s a stray I picked up some time ago.”

“A stray?” Elias frowned.

 

Another grunt. “Her name’s Evelyn. She doesn’t speak much.”

 

Elias was about to open before Hunter put up his hand. “Don’t ask. It’s a private matter.”

 

Another subject that wasn’t his business. Very well. He nodded. “I see. Alright.” Hunter was a good man in spite of his gruffness. Elias didn’t have to think very hard about how the girl came to be here. The details didn’t matter, only that whatever she went through was over and she was taken in by a good family.

 

““Father! I’m done with my chores! Is dinner ready yet? I’m hungry enough to eat a horse!” Another voice, this time male, a child’s, sounded out. The heavy thud of boots on wood signaled his entrance. The boy was young, perhaps Dolly’s age, with hair like a raven’s wing and eyes the color of cold steel, just like Hunter’s. He stopped and stared as he saw Elias unfamiliar figure. His body stiffened, his eyes sharpening. It was a vigilant stance, an careful one. He was unsure of the situation and turned to Hunter for a sign. “Father?”

 

The man snorted. “Easy, child. He’s a friend.” Hunter bade the kid to his side and placed a hand over his head. “ And now you meet my son Julien. Well boy, say hello.”

 

“Your son…” Elias almost couldn’t believe it.

 

Meanwhile the boy smiled politely. “Good afternoon, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Yes. Likewise. “ Elias spoke absently. “Is he..?”

“Too early to tell.” The Blacksmith shook his head. “But enough with the introductions. Take a seat. Tell me what brings you.”

 

Elias coughed awkwardly. “Well you see, it went like this…”