The Ironsmith's Mandate
The phrase landed as both honor and a warning, and my stomach clenched as it made the small hollow noises of a child hearing a formal pronouncement.
Last, best—words that just flowed right together.
I read on.
I am loath to pass this burden onto you, but I must, as I am no longer strong enough to carry it.
He called the sword a burden. The word felt heavy: it had a weight on paper you could hold: this wasn’t just a carefully-smithed piece of iron but the expectation of watching, of guarding, of understanding. He had always chosen words that educated: exact, firm, and unwilling to be sentimental when precision would suffice.
Hot Chapters