Blacksmith Survey: Blackwood Novels & Stories

Ama was contemplating an effective way to gain access to the Blackwoods mansion. Mr. Reynolds had already given her a file containing everything she needed to know about the family, and she had spent all of last night reviewing it and conducting her own research. The Blackwoods came from old money, which they gained from their construction business, and talent for creating unique art pieces. Which have aided them in their money laundering.

“And you are…?” “Someone who remembers seeing you at the bar,” he said evenly. Kimberly laughed, a light, airy sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “Me? At a bar like that? Please. Must’ve been someone who looked like me. I’m too classy for cheap whiskey and sticky floors.” Blackwood’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, like he was measuring her words, then he let it drop. “Maybe.” The way he said it told me he didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to push. Not yet.

It was an interview Damian had given shortly after the Locke merger closed. He looked younger in the photo, sharper around the edges, his expression colder than she was used to seeing now. The quote beneath it made her stomach drop. > “Sentimentality ruins businesses,” Blackwood said. “I don’t save companies, I acquire assets, People confuse the two because it’s easier than accepting reality.” Arielle’s hands trembled as she closed the laptop completely. She told herself again, this was business, this was before her, this was a world she had always known Damian belonged to.

"Three other packs supply us through existing trade agreements and Blackwood's real value is in our timber. The forest you see around us extends for miles, and the wood here is some of the finest in the North." I absorbed this information slowly. "I'd like to visit Blackwood Pack someday," I said. "Meet your people, see how they live." Liam said nothing, but I felt him stiffen slightly behind me. "Would that be possible?" I pressed. "Or is it too dangerous with the curse?" "We'll see." Which was clearly his way of saying no without actually saying it. We rode in silence for a while longer. I was just beginning to feel truly comfortable in the saddle when Liam suddenly tensed behind me.

“It’s like a library inside a library. This shouldn’t be architecturally possible.” Kieran gave a faint, proud smile. “Magic and masonry can achieve wonders when they work in concert. This is the Blackwood Archive. And hopefully somewhere in here,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the countless volumes, “are the answers we need about what you are.”

CHAPTER 158 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ “Have you ever heard about the blacksmith?” Clarabelle asked. "No, I haven't, my queen,” the UNKNOWN replied. Clarabelle shut her eyes and said, “The blacksmith is a legend among the mortals. Some of them actually believe he exists, and some of them believe he's just a myth. They say the blacksmith lives in the deepest, blackest depths of Mystic Meadow and enternaly hammers a glowing piece of metal, waiting for the day he can take revenge on the ones who hurt him.

Behind its great name stood four main pillars: Blackwood Motors with its electric cars and self-driving systems, Blackwood Tech, which dominated AI and cyber security, Blackwood Finance in the world of finance, and Blackwood Real Estate, which dominated property. The great man behind the success of this business empire is none other than Mr. Arthur. As far as I know, Lucian holds two major pillars, namely Blackwood Motors and Blackwood Tech, where I once interned. Mr. Gregory is only responsible for Blackwood Finance, while Blackwood Real Estate is managed by Uncle Edward, Aunt Wynne, and Uncle Jasper.

I cocked my head with my eyebrows raised. "Miss Blackwood is the most qualified investigator here," Kieran said sharply. "She stays." A muscle ticked in Damien's jaw, but he stepped aside. "As you wish. But I warn you, it's not pleasant." I'd seen plenty of unpleasant things in my three years as a hunter. Bodies torn apart by rogues, victims of vampire attacks drained so thoroughly they looked like husks, cursed objects that drove their owners to madness and self-mutilation. I thought I was prepared, even beyond what Damien could comprehend.

"Former military, a demolitions expert, currently employed by Blackwood Security, a private firm owned by, surprise, Thomas Blackwood." “So we’ve caught him,” Damian said. “There’s a direct link between the fire and Blackwood.” “And there’s more,” Lorenzo said, scrolling through his files. “I’ve been investigating all day. Thomas Blackwood isn’t just an angry old man looking for revenge. He’s desperate. Yes, he lost fifty million fifteen years ago, but since then he’s kept making bad investments, trying to get the money back. He’s used everything he owns as collateral—his buildings, his investments, even his judge’s pension. If he doesn’t get that money back soon, he’ll be completely broke.”

And it was out of the way, which meant less likely to attract trouble. Biadet left us with an emotionless, “We’ll be in touch.” After checking in, I inquired about the local Municipal Directory. The manager gave me directions, which took quite a long time because he kept getting halfway through them, forgetting his place, and starting again. “I’m also looking for a blacksmith.” “Oh, no problem there, young master,” said the manager. “Whole city’s chock full of ‘em. Can’t move without getting hit in the face with a shower of sparks down in the southern district.”