After grabbing the Metals needed for Samson from Frank’s shop both Aurora and her father were almost at Samson’s workshop only being a few minutes away.

Aurora hadn’t met Samson in person before but had heard a lot about him thanks to her father. Apparently, a couple of years before she was born her father was jobless and struggling to get by having to do odd jobs for random people, however, after hearing about his financial struggles Samson offered him a job even though he didn’t need the help.

According to her father, he’s known Samson ever since he was born with their families being close friends and because he was eight years older than her father he always looked out for him like an older brother and even after they became adults and saw less and less of each other he still helped him out whenever he needed it.

Just hearing that made Aurora respect the man even more, not many people were willing to do as much as he had at least according to her father however, the way her father spoke of him made her wonder about something.

“Dad” Aurora said getting his attention as they walked.

“Yeah?”

“How come I haven’t met Samson?”

Her father then went completely silent for a moment before answering her question.

“….Um, well, your mother doesn’t like him much”

This surprised Aurora since according to her father he had helped them so much and her mother wasn’t the kind of person to just hate someone without a good reason.

“Why?” She asked genuinely curious.

“She thinks he’s a bad influence” he answered before going quiet again and continuing to walk.

This left Aurora’s mind to run wild. Why was he a bad influence? Was there some information her father left out or did her mother just not like him personally? She didn’t know but now she felt nervous about meeting him.

After thinking about it for a moment the two eventually reached Samson’s shop. It didn’t look very big from the outside being connected to two other shops with the front of it being about four metres in width. It had a nice sign though being set just above the door labelled Samson’s Forged Creations.

Aurora’s father then opened the door for Aurora and after she went in he soon followed, still lifting the metal plates with apparent ease before he closed the door and called out towards the back.

“SAMSON! I BROUGHT THE STUFF YOU ORDERED!” he yelled.

This shocked Aurora for a moment since it was the loudest she had ever heard her father yell, even when he was angry he’s never sounded like that.

“GOT IT! JUST LEAVE IT BEHIND THE COUNTER!” she heard another voice respond.

After the yelling stopped and Aurora’s ears focused she could hear the sound of what she assumed to be metals colliding with each other noticing it was pretty loud even with the iron door blocking most of it out.

Her father then walked towards the counter before sitting down on a chair that was stationed behind it and putting down the metal right next to him, just like instructed.

Aurora then walked towards the counter as well but instead of going behind it stood in front of it while looking up at her father.

“What now?” She asked her father feeling a little unsure of what exactly they were supposed to do.

“Now, we wait, until someone shows up and orders something”

“Orders what?” She asked while looking around seeing nothing but an empty room, unlike Frank’s shop, except of course the counter, metal plates and chairs one being behind the counter and the other being in front of it.

“Oh right, here” he said grabbing a book from under the counter and handing it to her.

After being handed the book Aurora started to look through it seeing very detailed and realistic drawings of weapons, armor and tools she then looked up at her father again and he began to explain.

“Samson doesn’t like bringing his stock to the front shop for display, he thinks it’d be too easy for someone to come in and steal it if he did that. So we just use that book for when people want to browse”

“O-Okay”

Aurora then gave the book back to her father before going and sitting down on the chair stationed near the front counter, waiting for someone to show up.