Blacksmith Quarters Novels & Stories

"I'm lord of trade, Barlion. I can tell Silver from Ash Steel or what ever the hell the rest of the five kingdoms want to call it. This pin came from The Half Shifters Kingdom. What the hell is the Queen's trader doing with ash steel only found in their lands?" I looked up at my uncle, knowing well enough that the Queen's trader only brings her goods she ordered for. So how come she ordered for a men's pin made only in our enemy's lands?

He stood in the middle of the square with one hand resting on the old fountain, and his voice, when it came, was quiet, almost reverent. "This place was known as the Hearth Quarter. Long before anyone remembered kings, these streets belonged to families. Blacksmiths lived beside healers. Bakers argued with musicians. Children filled this square every evening." He looked around at the empty homes, and a faint smile crossed his face. "If you wish to understand Orathyn, don't begin with its rulers. Begin with the people who called it home." The Keeper led them deeper into the Hearth Quarter, and no one felt the urge to hurry. Every street held another fragment of an ordinary life, and those sma

Her face was unreadable. “You sure about this?” she asked. “As sure as one can be before stepping onto a blade,” I answered. Even my words sounded thin. We moved closer, keeping to the ruins. Stones remembered the heat of a thousand forges. A ring of half-buried anvils suggested hands had worked here for years, shaping metal into things that did not want to be shaped. Pieces of slag dotted the soil—black glass blinking in the sun.