The forge had been quieter than usual for the last few days. No big orders, no merchant caravans stopping by, and the old man had spent most of the mornings tinkering with his private projects instead of the usual repair work.
During the past 3 days his belief that he had first suspected seemed to be true, the medallion could be the key. The thought had gnawed at him relentlessly, to the point where he'd barely been able to focus at the forge. Even the sound of hammers ringing against metal felt like it was tapping the same maddening question into his skull: What's behind that door?
Today, opportunity finally presented itself.
Eron had noticed something today. Whenever the old man thought no one was looking, he would glance toward the road and then back at the forge door, almost as if waiting for someone. That someone arrived today.
