Renji spoke his name with determination, and the blacksmith stared at him for a few moments without blinking. It was as if he were measuring him, weighing not only his words but also the weight behind them. Then he gave a short nod and turned back to his anvil, letting the metallic echo fill the air once more.
Renji stepped back beside Tiberku, who was watching him closely.
— "Did you hear what you just said?" Tiberku asked in a serious tone. "You've tied your name to the sword you want to create. That means more than just a promise."
Renji sighed and lowered his gaze.
— "I know. But if I don't take this step now, I'll never evolve. Lioren could be the place where I truly begin… if Eris gives us a sign."
The elf poked his head out of Renji's coat pocket, curious. It followed Renji's gaze, which had risen to the pale sky above the rooftops of the city. At that moment, a brief ray of light broke through the clouds and fell right in front of the smithy, across his threshold.
Renji felt his heart tighten, a shiver ran down his spine. He bit his lip and whispered:
— "Then… this is the sign."
Tiberku patted him on the shoulder with a restrained smile.
— "Good. But don't forget, Renji, a sign isn't enough. From now on, the hard part begins."
Renji nodded, his eyes fixed on the blacksmith's door. He felt that the first step had been taken.
After leaving the smithy, Renji and Tiberku walked through the crowded streets of Lioren. The markets were buzzing, stalls overflowing with fruit, fabrics, and simple jewelry, while the smell of freshly baked bread spread through the paved streets. The elf, still hidden in Renji's pocket, peeked out now and then, watching curiously.
— "I have to admit," Tiberku said, looking around, "this city is livelier than I imagined. It feels like every corner is a little show."
Renji nodded absentmindedly, still caught in his thoughts about the smithy. Yet when they reached a square where a group of street performers were juggling, his attention shifted immediately. One of them dropped a lit torch straight into the fountain in the middle of the square, splashing his partner with cold water. The crowd burst into laughter, and the soaked performer raised his hands, pretending it was all part of the act.
The elf chuckled muffled inside the pocket. Renji felt it and, against his will, his grimace turned into a smile. Tiberku noticed and raised an eyebrow.
— "Hey, I just saw you smiling. When was the last time?"
Renji tried to hide his face, but when the same performer, still dripping, slipped on the wet stone and fell straight into a basket of apples, Renji burst into a genuine, short, and powerful laugh. People around laughed, children clapped, and Renji felt as if part of the weight of the past days lifted for the first time.
Tiberku laughed too, patting him on the shoulder.
— "Now that's a miracle. Renji actually laughed. Maybe Lioren isn't so bad for you."
Renji wiped his eyes, still smiling wide.
— "I can't believe it… I actually laughed. I think I forgot how it feels."
The elf peeked higher from the pocket and whispered playfully:
— "It suits you better this way. You should do it more often."
Renji glanced at him briefly, then burst again into a short, honest laugh. For the first time since arriving in Lioren, he felt the city offered more than uncertainty.
After a few hours wandering through the city, the three decided it was time to return to the inn. The streets began to empty, merchants packed their goods, and the light of lanterns reflected on the wet stone of the road.
Renji still felt the relief of that laugh in his chest. He realized how much he had missed feeling… normal. The elf, calm in his pocket, hummed quietly, while Tiberku walked ahead with steady steps.
At the inn, the woman at the counter greeted them briefly.
— "The rooms are ready. Rest, you'll have plenty of work tomorrow."
They climbed the wooden stairs and retreated to a simple room with two beds and a small window. Renji collapsed onto the mattress with the elf beside him, while Tiberku settled on the other bed. The day's exhaustion quickly overwhelmed them, and sleep came almost instantly.
The night passed quietly, but the morning was not the same.
A loud noise woke them, as if someone was pounding insistently on the door. Renji opened his eyes heavily, but before he could get up, the door swung open and a boy of about ten hopped into the room.
— "Hey! Wake up! It's morning! Mom says you have to start work!"
Renji blinked several times, confused, and stayed under the blanket half-covered. Tiberku, however, was already on his feet, serious as always.
— "Who are you?" he asked sharply.
The boy laughed loudly and raised his hands.
— "I'm the innkeeper's son! If I don't wake you up, mom says you won't get food!"
The elf, pressed against Renji, chuckled quietly. Renji rubbed his face and, for the second time in two days, burst into a short laugh.
— "Seriously, Tiberku? We face demons, yet we're woken by a child threatening to deny us breakfast?"
The boy nodded seriously.
— "Exactly! And you should know, mom means it!"
Tiberku was speechless for a few moments, then sighed and shrugged.
— "Fine. Let's get ready then. Seems today's first battle is with hunger."
Renji laughed again, getting up slowly, while the elf giggled in his pocket. The heavy atmosphere of the past days seemed to be melting little by little.
They followed the boy downstairs, still drowsy. The inn was already filled with early risers, and the smell of warm bread and soup made their stomachs growl loudly. The innkeeper was waiting by the kitchen, hands on her hips.
— "Finally! I thought I'd have to send the other boy to check on you. Come on, you've got work to do. Chopping vegetables, washing dishes, nothing complicated, but quick and clean."
Renji and Tiberku entered the large kitchen, full of steam and bubbling pots.
Tiberku set himself by a barrel of water and began washing dishes, his movements stiff. Renji, on the other hand, was given a knife and a huge pile of onions.
— "Seriously?" he muttered. "After everything we've been through, I'm fighting onions now?"
Within seconds, his eyes filled with tears. He clenched his teeth but soon burst into a short laugh.
— "Yeah, this is a lost battle."
Meanwhile, Tiberku tried to place a stack of plates on a shelf, but the wooden handle gave way and the dishes crashed loudly. Everyone in the kitchen turned to him. The innkeeper brought her hand to her forehead, exasperated.
— "It's your first fifteen minutes and you're already breaking dishes!"
Renji laughed so hard he could barely hold the knife.
— "Tiberku, you're more dangerous in the kitchen than on the battlefield!"
Tiberku flushed slightly and turned back to washing, ignoring Renji's laughter. The atmosphere had turned unexpectedly light, and the kitchen, though chaotic, made them feel for the first time like they belonged somewhere safe.
Renji tried to recover from his laughing fit and bent back over the onions. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but now he couldn't tell if they were from the onions or from amusement. The innkeeper passed by, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said firmly:
— "Faster, boy, customers don't eat stories, they eat stew."
Renji raised his hands in apology and hurried. Beside him, a younger kitchen helper, probably a fourteen-year-old girl, watched him wide-eyed.
— "You've never chopped onions before, have you?" she asked, laughing.
Renji swallowed hard.
— "Let's just say battles are more predictable than onions."
The girl burst into laughter, then showed him how to hold the knife better so he wouldn't cut his fingers.
Meanwhile, Tiberku had been set to chop herbs. The problem was, he couldn't tell them apart. He tried putting them all into one bowl, but the innkeeper caught him.
— "Hey! This isn't weed salad! These are for three different dishes!"
Tiberku froze, unsure of what to say. Renji, watching, burst again into a short laugh.
— "Tiberku, if I leave you alone for two minutes, you'll invent a new recipe."
Later, the two were told to carry a giant cauldron of soup. Tiberku lifted it effortlessly, but Renji struggled with his side. One wrong step, and hot drops splashed onto the floor.
— "Careful, you'll spill everything!" the innkeeper shouted.
Renji, red-faced, laughed again, while Tiberku tried to keep a straight face.
— "Why are you laughing? We almost spilled all the soup!" Tiberku muttered.
— "Because we look like two fools pretending to be cooks! And I think that's exactly what we are."
Those around, including other cooks, began to smile. The kitchen, though full of noise, lit up with their energy.
Hours passed quickly in the inn's kitchen. The steam, the smell of food, and the constant bustle exhausted them both, but at the same time made them forget for a while the burdens in their hearts. Renji and Tiberku, despite their blunders and little accidents, managed to get through the day.
When the sun began to set, the innkeeper entered the kitchen and looked at them with folded arms.
— "Well, you're not the most skilled, but you worked. That's enough for a start."
Renji collapsed onto a chair in the corner, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He laughed shortly.
— "Feels like I've been through a battle. But one with pans and onions."
Tiberku looked at him seriously, though fatigue was clear in his eyes.
— "At least we survived. And that means tomorrow we'll have to do it again."
Renji nodded and rose slowly.
— "Yeah… but I think I'll go rest in the room. I need to gather my strength."
Tiberku watched him climb the stairs toward their room, while the inn slowly filled with noisy customers and cheerful music. Renji felt each step heavy, but for the first time in a long while, his exhaustion came from normal work, not from fighting.
Renji lay down on the bed, stretching his arms, feeling the weight of the day crush him. He barely managed to close his eyes before sleep overtook him completely.
At midnight, a small light hand gently shook his shoulder. Renji's eyes opened suddenly, and he saw the elf watching him with a serious expression.
— "Renji… you were supposed to go to the blacksmith to work," the elf whispered, voice low but firm.
Renji blinked several times, trying to process the words. His heart skipped a beat.
— "What? How…? No… it can't be…" he muttered, trembling.
He jumped out of bed, pulled on his coat, and hit the floor running, adrenaline rushing through his body.
— "I completely forgot! The blacksmith! I have to get there now!"
He didn't wait for an answer. The elf chuckled softly but climbed onto his shoulder, ready to accompany him. Renji rushed out of the room, leaping down the wooden stairs and out into the dark streets of Lioren.
Renji ran with the elf on his shoulder, adrenaline pounding in his chest. Each step brought him closer to the blacksmith's workshop, but the nearer he got, the harsher reality struck: it was midnight.
When he reached the workshop, the entrance lamp was out, the door was locked, and the windows silent. Renji pulled his coat tighter and looked around, frustrated.
— "No… it can't be… where is everyone?" he murmured, heart still racing.
The elf chuckled softly, as if telling him there was nothing he could do. Renji bit his lip and stepped back, frustration growing.
— "It's midnight… I should've been here earlier," he whispered to himself. "I missed the first day."
He leaned against the workshop door, trying to steady his breathing. Despite the temporary failure, determination still burned in his heart. He had promised to work at the blacksmith's, and he didn't want to make a bad impression.
Renji searched around for another way. He tried the back door, but it was locked. He clenched his fists and bent toward the windows, checking every corner. His eyes landed on a window left slightly open, almost forgotten.
Without hesitation, he slipped through the gap, stepping carefully onto the cold workshop floor. The smell of hot metal and burnt wood greeted him immediately. The lamp on the table cast long shadows, but it was enough light to see every tool and every unfinished sword.
— "Alright… I'm here," Renji whispered to himself, feeling both guilt and excitement.
He approached the worktable, gently touching an unfinished sword. He felt the weight of responsibility, but also the chance to truly begin. In the silence of the night, every sound of the workshop reminded him that this was the place where he would rebuild his strength and start evolving.
Renji looked at the unfinished sword on the table and took a deep breath. He knew he didn't have much time and needed everything ready for the blacksmith by morning. He placed an old cloth under his arm and began preparing the tools. He polished blades, cleaned every speck of metal and dust, arranged knives and hammers neatly so the blacksmith would find them ready. Every few minutes, he adjusted the sword's position, making sure it was perfectly aligned on the stand.
Hours passed, but he didn't feel tired, only deeply focused. He wiped sweat from his forehead and kept cleaning every corner, preparing wood and coal for the forge, checking that all materials were in place. Even the broom and cleaning rags were positioned strategically, so the blacksmith wouldn't lose time in the morning.
Around him, the workshop seemed to breathe with him: the light creak of the floor, the faint ring of metal, the rustle of wood blended with the beating of his heart. At one point, Renji bent over an old blade, then stepped back and smiled faintly. Everything was ready for the next day.
With the last tools in place, Renji pulled his coat tighter and slumped onto the floor, exhausted. His eyes closed immediately, and his breathing grew calm and steady. The elf chuckled softly, as if saying, "You did everything you had to."
Renji fell asleep in the workshop, surrounded by tools and blades, feeling for the first time in a long while that he had done things right and was prepared for the day ahead.
Morning crept gently through the workshop windows. The sound of footsteps on the street announced the start of a new day. At some point, the workshop door creaked open, and the blacksmith entered, wearing a thick vest and carrying a small lantern. His eyes stopped at once on Renji, sleeping on the floor among the neatly prepared tools and swords.
— "Well now…" the blacksmith said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought everything you said yesterday was just empty words. But I see you broke in… even if that's not right, just to work."
Renji woke suddenly, blinking and sitting up quickly.
— "I'm very sorry! I know I was supposed to be here yesterday and I missed the day, but…"
The blacksmith interrupted with a calm but firm gesture.
— "Don't worry. I forgive you. I can see your intentions are sincere. You worked through the night because you truly want your sword."
Renji swallowed hard and said, voice trembling yet determined:
— "Thank you! I promise I won't be late again. And… I also have another job at the inn, so I'll have to split my time… By the way… what time is it?"
The blacksmith looked at him for a few seconds, then replied:
— "It's almost noon," he said, raising a hand toward the sunlit sky.
Renji flinched and stood up immediately.
— "I have to get to the inn! I've got work there!"
He rushed out the workshop door, running through the streets of Lioren with the elf in his pocket, feeling responsibility push him forward. The blacksmith watched him for a few moments, then turned back to the prepared tools, knowing the young man was serious and that his will could not be stopped.
Renji disappeared among the city buildings, the inn waiting for him for another day of work, the chapter ends with the image of him running with determination, ready to continue his path and prove he could be relied upon.