The faces of the wolf-kin were lit in awe, tails swishing in exhilaration. Consumed by the excitement, a few couldn't resist the urge to name this weapon.
These folks believed that such an amazing weapon should have a name of its own.
"Name it, Kael! A weapon like that must bear a name!"
Kael glanced at the dagger before turning his gaze to Dorian, who stood with a quiet elegance at the edge of the crowd. The blacksmith's soot-stained hands were folded, his rough face illuminated by the moonlight.
Kael's eyes asked the question without words, but Dorian only shook his head, a proud, almost fatherly smile tugging at his lips.
"It's not my hand that will wield it," Dorian said firmly. "The right to name it is yours, Kael."
How could he name it?
This wasn't right.
He hadn't crafted this dagger with his blood and sweat. It was Dorian who had crafted it. Hence, he should be the one to name it.
But now, Dorian himself wanted him to do the honor.
Kael felt burdened.
