"Whatcha doing out here, staring like that?" I asked with a grin, tilting my head toward the boy standing in the street.
His brown eyes flicked toward me, hesitant, before he muttered, "…My dad won't let me use a sword."
There was a heaviness in his voice, a weight no child his age should have to carry.
"Why not?" I questioned, curious.
"Because he says I should be like him—a blacksmith. Not a knight." His shoulders slumped, and his lips curled into a pout.
I raised a brow. "And why do you want to be a knight?"
At that, his whole expression shifted. His eyes lit up, alive with excitement. "Because they're so cool! They kill monsters, slay enemies with their swords… and everyone admires them!"
I smirked at the fire in his voice. "Before we talk about what makes a blacksmith cooler than a knight, let's introduce ourselves properly." I extended my hand. "Arthur Shadowheart."
He looked startled for a moment, then grinned and took my hand. "Leo Ashford."
"Wait a minute," we both said at the same time.
I glanced up at the sign above the shop beside us—Ashford Smithy.
"You're…"
"You're Richard the Knight's son?!" Leo blurted, stunned.
"Yep." I chuckled. "And you're the blacksmith's son. So, want to head in?" I gestured toward the shop.
Leo nodded eagerly, and together we stepped inside.
The air hit me instantly—hot, metallic, carrying the smell of sweat and burning coal. Weapons of every kind decorated the walls, shields of varying sizes lined the racks, and half-finished blades rested on benches. Honestly… it was impressive.
Leo couldn't stop talking about Richard. "Your father fought in the southern campaign, right? He's so strong! My dad always says knights like him are rare."
And then I saw him.
Jan Ashford.
He was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered, his bald head gleaming under the lantern light, a long beard streaked with silver framing his stern face. His presence was commanding, even without armor or a sword.
"Who's with you, Leo?" Jan asked, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"This is Arthur—Richard's son."
Jan's eyes widened for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Arthur Shadowheart, huh? So, what brings you here?"
"I'm here to browse," I replied with a grin, "and to prove to your son that being a blacksmith is cooler than being a knight."
Jan laughed, a sound like iron striking iron. "Please, do. He won't listen to me no matter how many times I tell him."
I wandered deeper into the forge, my eyes trailing over the weapons. That's when a thought crossed my mind. "Hey, sir. How rare are Atherem and Mithril?"
Jan looked at me with surprise. "A curious one, aren't you? Atherem is less rare than Mithril, but still valuable—it resonates with magic, found only in labyrinths. That makes it highly sought after. Mithril, though…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "That is among the rarest metals in the world. Only the most powerful or the most important people ever lay hands on it."
Damn, I thought, a chill running through me. So the gifts from Mother and Richard are that valuable…
"Tell you what," I said suddenly, turning toward Leo. "Let's have your father forge a sword right here, right now. I'll show you why smithing is cooler than swinging a blade."
Leo blinked, confused, but nodded.
Jan smirked and rolled up his sleeves. "Fine. Watch closely."
The forge roared to life. Sparks danced as Jan thrust the raw metal into the flames, waiting until it glowed red-hot. Then came the hammering. Over and over, each strike rang through the smithy, powerful, deliberate, never once faltering. Hours could pass this way—heating, hammering, quenching, shaping.
I leaned down toward Leo. "Look at that. It takes strength, patience, and skill. Imagine the effort, the dedication, the sweat it takes to shape steel into something worthy of battle."
Leo's eyes widened, following every motion of his father's arms.
"And think about this," I continued softly. "How good would it feel, knowing the sword you worked so hard on was the one that a knight used to slay a dragon?"
Leo's lips parted in awe. Slowly, a smile crept across his face. "Then how about this—I'll become the greatest blacksmith in the world. You become a knight. And one day, I'll forge a sword for you… and you'll use it to slay a dragon."
I grinned, extending my hand once more. "That definitely works."
We clasped hands, sealing our childish pact.
By the time Jan quenched the blade and held it up to the lantern light, the evening sun had already sunk. The new sword gleamed faintly, a promise of battles yet to come.
"Thank you, boy," Jan said suddenly, his voice softer now, almost… grateful.
"Don't worry about it."
"No, really." His eyes flickered with something unspoken. "I couldn't let him dream only to die chasing illusions. Not in this world."
"I understand," I replied quietly.
Jan sighed, then straightened. "You should stay the night. We can prepare a meal—"
"I can't," I interrupted. "My mother will be worried."
"Then at least let Leo walk you home."
So the two of us stepped back into the cooling night air, walking the lantern-lit streets together, still talking about knights, dragons, and swords that could shape legends.
---
Erza's POV
The moon had risen high when my heart began to twist with worry.
Arthur still wasn't home.
I stood at the balcony, staring into the darkness, ears straining for any sign of footsteps. Then—voices.
My son's voice.
I rushed to the railing, relief flooding me as I spotted him walking up the path. A boy his age walked beside him, brown-haired and cheerful, laughing at something Arthur said.
Only then did the tightness in my chest ease, replaced with warmth. My son had returned… and he wasn't alone