Posts from Mafia 74. Dance of Life and Death

A quiet rooster's crow woke him up before dawn. His eyelids slowly lifted, his gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling. In the small, almost spartan room, the coolness brought by the night wind was still felt. "Strange," thought the blacksmith. "No one keeps chickens in the city." Early awakening was normal for him, but today it was too early. He sat up, sat on the bed, looked at the masterfully forged two-handed sword hanging on the wall, and headed to the yard...
The calmness with which he walked the night paths and roads surprised not only his few companions but also the bandits he encountered everywhere. Usually, this was the last surprise in their lives. Some say that "The Uncanonical," as his friends called him, has no fear, because he has almost nothing and nothing to lose. This was not true. He was afraid. Fear gripped his body, intending to break him at the most inappropriate moment. But his mind, completely free from poison, resisted and fought, winning every time, relentlessly destroying all other "unnecessary" feelings...
The city of Veskerkout was located farthest from the noisy and incredibly large capital. Despite its remoteness, it was an important link not only as the first line of defense against an attack on the very heart of the kingdom but also as a significant settlement in economic terms. Its clean and well-planned streets were a fine example of order and architectural genius. And the fortifications stood out against other similar cities with incredible reliability. All this was the merit not only of Baron Raven but also of the inhabitants. Calm and balanced people who love cleanliness and order, straightforwardness, and truth...
It was quiet outside. The blacksmith looked around, as if hoping to see something unusual in the dim light. But everything was as always. The stars still illuminated the night sky, torches lit the night streets, and people snored in their beds. After washing his face with cold water, brushing his teeth, and doing his morning exercises, he went to the cellar for groceries, intending to make himself a standard breakfast...
Seeing the familiar walls, the elf walked slowly towards the gate, where five well-equipped guards stood. Their armor and weapons were easily recognizable, as everything was forged by one, well-known hand. Noticing the newcomer, the senior guard immediately signaled the archers on the towers to be ready.
- Welcome to Veskerkout, sir. Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself and tell us what brings you to our city? - the senior guard politely asked as the elf approached him.
The guards, and even the royal regiment stationed in the city, were well-mannered and reasonable. Almost all the soldiers serving were born here.
- And I greet you, - said the elf. Although he did not like such formalities, the obvious courtesy and friendliness did not allow him to remain silent. - Here, - he said, taking out a ring hanging on a silver chain from under his light elven armor.
The guard silently ordered the gate to be opened and stepped aside...
The city was filled with the usual noise for all such places: the cries of merchants, the laughter of children, and the arguments of avid arguers. As always focused on work, Morning was finishing a sword that he had been forging for the past two months. It was not an ordinary blade. It was special. No, all his works are special, but this one, into which he put not only all his skill and effort but also something else, was truly extraordinary.
Despite his concentration on work, his keen eyesight allowed him to see everything that was happening around him. Many would not have noticed the figure in the shadows of the houses opposite the forge, watching him intently, but not Morning.
- Are you going to stand there and watch me like a thief? - the blacksmith shouted, not taking his eyes off the sword.
- What can I do? - replied the elf, crossing the street, - I like to watch your work. I didn't want to distract you.
- I thought you were looking for grains on the ground to peck at, - said Morning, putting the sword aside and turning to his interlocutor.
- Be careful with your words, or your own metal will end up in your back, - said the elf, making a threatening grimace.
- Typical elf, - replied the blacksmith, smiling kindly and putting his hand on Nebo's shoulder.
He responded in kind, and they exchanged a firm handshake.
- I'm almost finished. Another couple of days, and it will be ready.
- Did you receive a message from Arandor?
- Yes. And, as I understand it, you too? - asked Morning, continuing his work.
- Of course. I think we can go together.
- I don't mind, but I'll go as soon as I finish.
- Yes, yes, of course, we still have a whole week, - said the elf, putting his hands behind his head and leaning against the wooden beam.
- That's good...