The hinges squeaked as Alyssa opened the wooden door and stepped into the workshop. Caldir had already cleaned up the storefront while she was gone, though the floors were still dusty and piles of dull scrap metal sat on their counters in the back. The last rays of day cast long shadows to the furthest wall, on which there was another door. She opened it, the hinges barely making a sound. In plain sight of the entrance was her guardian, reclining on a chair, smoking his pipe.

 

“Ah, finally, you’re back,” he grumbled, and he gave a loud groan as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “I was beginning to think you took a wrong turn on the way to the market and ended up in Lo’tero. Bring it to the kitchen and we can start making the--” Caldir paused as his eyes flicked up from the basket of food to Alyssa’s face, then back down to her clothes. His expression told her enough, but he spoke anyway. “Clean up before we start the soup. It looks like you lost a fight with a dust devil, and I’m not keen on eating dust devil for supper tonight.” Alyssa nodded, and hastily brought the flaxen basket to the kitchen before dashing to her room.

 

The steps down into the cellar creaked as she descended them, and she kept the door open as a source of light. Even though the sun had nearly set, it made it so it was brighter than the door being shut for the moment. Alyssa made her way to her bed, a thin mattress on a sturdy little frame situated between a barrel of wine and a shelf of poorly made weapons. She quickly undressed and spread her clothes on the bed. Without being particular, she pulled a random weapon off the shelf, a dull rapier that had somehow fractured in half, and began beating the flour out of her tunic and pants. Somewhere in her mind, she knew this meant she would probably wake up with whitened clothes next time, but for the moment, all she needed was to do as Caldir had told her.

 

-----

 

After much chopping and boiling, the soup was finished. Alyssa put a generous scoop into her bowl and carefully walked back to the table. The mixture of smells was delicious. It was a vegetable-beef soup, with the cabbage and meat Alyssa had bought at the market, as well as some carrots Caldir had been given by the cantankerous old Farmer Tildale, who lived just outside the town, as a begrudging sign of thanks for sharpening his plowshare (he wouldn’t give a maggot off his worst tomato if his wife didn’t do all of his relations with the townsfolk). 

 

Not waiting until it had cooled off, Caldir ate a steaming spoonful of broth and beef, smacking his lips loudly as Alyssa blew on her soup. For a couple of minutes, they ate quietly; the only words uttered in that time were Caldir asking Alyssa to grab some bread for them, which she wordlessly did. As they broke the stale bread and dipped it in their bowls, the stoic man spoke up first.

 

“You really took your time at the market, didn’t you?” He was met with no response. He continued. “Next time, I want you in and out of there quicker, alright? No dragging your feet and wandering about. Set your focus.”

 

Alyssa stared at her rippled, yellowish reflection in her soup as his stern words sank in. “There was a special sale at the market today… Lots of imports from other towns…” mumbled Alyssa, and she cleared her throat, dislodging an errant strand of beef caught in the back of her mouth before continuing. “It was busy. Lots of people were lined up. I’ll try to be quicker next time, sorry.” She never wanted to give Caldir excuses, but she often couldn’t tell the difference between telling the truth and making an excuse, or at least, how Caldir judged the difference.

 

Caldir merely grunted and said, “Right,” before taking another meaty spoon of soup. This was how meals with the blacksmith usually went; long, uninterrupted silences interspersed with bits of dialogue that could hardly even pass as casual conversation. Every breakfast and supper (and the occasional times lunch was had) felt like one long wait to see who would make the first move, much like sparring in the yard out back. 

 

“So,” Caldir started, his voice ringing loudly against the palpable silence, “I took a look at those shield bosses you crafted today. Much better than last time, I have to say. In fact, I’ve noticed that you have shown great promise in your skills as a smithcrafter of late.” 

 

Alyssa was shocked. Was this a compliment? She could easily count on one hand the number of those she had been given by Caldir, but her memory couldn’t serve her to recall the last time one had departed from his mouth at all. 

 

He continued. “Which is why, starting tomorrow, I think it’s time I taught you how to forge weapons. I’ve hoped for quite some time now that your skills would finally be honed enough to take on this duty.” He paused for a moment and rubbed the side of his nose. “Besides, my back aches from the constant swinging of the hammer, and I could use the extra hands.”

 

Alyssa couldn’t believe it. Yes, she had years of experience working in the shop, but that hardly qualified her. “I’m not ready for that. I don’t see how you can tell I’m ready just because my shield parts look better than last week.” She held her hands out, moving them up and down like scales. “Making shield parts and horseshoes versus forging an actual weapon… Those seem like two very different areas.” She picked her spoon back up and focused on her soupy reflection once again. “I don’t think I can do it just yet.”

 

Caldir brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Of course you can. I see it in your arms when you hold that blade in sword practice; you’re strong. And I see it in those bosses and rims. You have an eye for detail in them that I know won’t be amiss in a sword. Your eyes…” He chuckled lightly, and Alyssa tilted her head, confused at this sudden change in behaviour. “You look more and more like her every day, your mother. I see it when you concentrate in the shop, or in our combat out back; there’s a fierceness, a sort of magic in your eyes that so reminds me of Ariadne. And magic does not so easily fade through the generations.” He glanced to his right, where he had been sitting earlier. 

 

Above the small iron stove was a sword hung neatly in a wooden frame that Alyssa knew all too well. It was a bit out of place since the rest of the small house seemed devoid of any other personal belongings. “Your mother’s first sword,” he said as he slurped up a spoonful of broth. Alyssa had heard him tell the story countless times, but cherished any memory of her mother, even if it wasn’t her own. “It was after a group of Hornarian bandits raided the town; she had done nothing but stayed in the house, armed with one of my hammers.” He let out a short laugh at the thought, as he’d done every other time he’d told it in the past. Alyssa allowed a small smile to form on her lips as the boisterous man continued.

 

“The next morning she woke up, furious with herself for idly standing by while the night watch fought off the thieves. She quite literally burst into my room, demanding I show her how to craft a sword for herself.” He shook his head. “The whole week I spent teaching her, and she fussed the entire time that I wasn’t letting her start. Finally, I gave her the tools on the last day of the week, and I can tell you… The way she looked when she forged that sword, I would hate to be the Hornarian that would cross her!

 

“She was so proud of it, how she would swing it with ease in our own sword practice. I was proud of her.” He leaned forward and met eyes with Alyssa. “And I will be proud of you, too, once you carry on the tradition. Hopefully with no bandits to spur you on.”

 

Her cheeks turned red, and she turned away, her eyes beginning to well up. She had heard the story before, of course, but never understood what it meant for her. She always remembered her mother, the travelling merchant from Pasidine, as a kind-hearted woman, and that’s who she strived to live like. Now she would finally get a chance to be more like her hero. “I can’t wait,” she said in a quiet voice, attempting, but ultimately failing to mask her emotions.

 

Caldir cracked a rare smile and hit his hand on the table, rattling the dishes and causing a little bit of his soup to splash on the wooden surface. “It’s settled, then. First thing tomorrow, I’ll show you my special tempering technique, and we can make you a sword. It will be perfect for you, seeing as how you’ll need your own once you become a town guard.” The bread made a soft crunch as Alyssa bit down on it, and Caldir waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “But for your training shift tonight, you can use one of mine.”

 

Alyssa coughed in sudden realization. She swallowed the bread hastily. How could she have forgotten this? “My first guard shift… It’s tonight? I thought I started this weekend.” 

 

Caldir eyed her suspiciously as he lifted his spoon. “We talked about this the other day, didn’t we? Don’t tell me it escaped you already.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know how airheaded you can be sometimes, but this is important. Not many people in this damn town can swing a sword like you. We need you on the evening watch.”

 

Alyssa’s heart sank. The commitment she had given to her training as a town guard was important to her, but she felt torn as she realized she would have to choose between this and her yearly camping tradition. Trying her best to shift the topic away from her, she struggled to think of a solution. “What about you? You could take my place tonight… You’re by far the most capable fighter in town, far better than Lucas.”

 

“Watch your tongue. That’s the captain of the guard; your captain once you start. I’ll have no disrespect of that kind in my house.” He jabbed his spoon at her, then let it dip down as he looked away. “My fighting days are behind me. I can’t do it, not since--” He hesitated for a moment. “Not with this bum leg, you know.”

 

“If you can still beat me in a fight, I know your leg can handle one night at the gate with Luc-- er, Captain Lucas. It may be in the past, but you’re still a soldier at heart.”

 

A stern look fell over Caldir’s face, and Alyssa realized she might have gone a little far. He placed his spoon down beside his bowl and folded his hands. Alyssa swallowed hard.

 

“You don’t want to do this? After all this time I spent preparing you, training you? You should have let me know if you didn’t want to train out back. What do you want from me?”

 

Alyssa hung her head, a lump in her throat forcing a whisper. “I just want to go camping.”

 

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is more important than you realize. A job with the evening watch is hard work, but imagine what a captain in, say, Aranthrail would say if you had a year’s experience on guard duty. Even if you didn’t get the capital's attention, Corvia is brimming with cities that would kill to have a knight like you, to have your sword in its defense.” He glared at her. “You know what this is about. We’ve talked about this enough.”

 

Alyssa rolled her eyes, blinking faster to hide the fact that her eyes were starting to glisten. “I know you want me to be more responsible around the shop, but this isn’t about that. This is very important to me. You don’t understand--”

 

She was interrupted by a huffing sound. “I think I understand well enough. You’re going to put your own desires above the safety of your people?” Caldir gave a haughty chuckle. “Don’t be so selfish. You can go camping tomorrow for all I care, but tonight, you will stay at the gate.”

 

A silence hung over the table, and Alyssa’s eyes burned as she stared directly at Caldir. A string of a thousand rebuttals played in her mind like an angry minstrel, but she came to a conclusion as she slowly stood to her feet.

 

“Fine,” she said out loud, ignoring the cracking of her voice, “I’ll do it. I’ll stand guard tonight, but only because you can’t be swayed one way or the other.” She began to walk away from the table while muttering under her breath. “If you weren’t so stubborn, maybe you could have tried to see things my way.” She heard another slam on the table from behind her; Caldir may have been old, but he was not hard of hearing.

 

“I’m stubborn? Look at you, trying to skirt your duties for a bit of personal fun. Never mind how much you look like your mother, you act like your father!”

 

Alyssa may as well have been struck by lightning; she stopped dead in her tracks and her heart suddenly pounded hard in her chest. She whipped around and pointed a finger at Caldir. “Don’t you dare compare me to that monster! I’m not a coward that backs off when things get difficult, I’m only trying to stand up for myself!” Tears rolled down her face as she bared her teeth at the man. “That will be the last time I try that.” 

 

With that, she stormed to the cellar and slammed the door. She hastily threw some supplies into a bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her heart ached, and she could feel the tears splash on her hand as she packed. Behind a corner wall covered by an old workbench was a hidden exit, which she quickly used to sneak outside. A trapdoor lifted up just outside the fence of the small training arena, obscured by a patch of brush, and she made as little noise as she could as she bounded down the cobbled streets past candlelit windows toward the edge of town.