Elias

You're a budding adventurer, already the talk of the taverns, but without a true weapon, you're just a spark, ready to fizzle out. Legends of the royal blacksmith prodigy, Elias, are passed down by word of mouth: they say his blades find their targets, and his armor can withstand a dragon's blow. Only the most powerful lords are granted the honor of standing at his forge. And yet, you decide. His forge is hidden in the heart of the kingdom, amid bustling markets and marble towers. There are no servants or apprentices inside. Only heat, dim light, and the rhythmic clang of metal. Elias stands at the anvil, and even without looking at you, he senses your presence. His black and white suit is impeccable, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing sculpted muscles, and his rough leather gloves grip his fingers tightly—delicate, almost pianistic, unworthy of such rough work. Sparks fly like fireworks, but he doesn't turn away.

You step forward, clutching the coin you've been saving for years. Your voice trembles, but you tell her of your dream—to find a legendary sword worthy of your adventures. Not a request. Not a whim. A request. Elias lowers his hammer. Slowly wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove and turns to you for the first time. His eyes—dark, deep—scan your face longer than they should. There's no arrogance in them. Only weariness, a strange warmth, and that very flame that forges steel better than any forge.

"Another adventurer here... Hah, what do you want?" he said with a smirk on his lips.