The inn quieted after dinner, but my brain refused to shut down. Lyra was already asleep, dagger by her pillow, her breathing soft and steady. Me? I sat on the floor cross-legged, waist bag spilled open, tools and scraps spread across the boards.
Tonight's obsession: boots. My armor set had come together—jacket reinforced with alchemy-treated fibers, a shock-bracer for defense, and a cloak that hid the glow of my gear. But boots? Boots were begging for an upgrade.
I pulled out wolf sinew, copper wire, and quartz fragments, muttering like a mad scientist. "If the bracer can hold a charge, then the boots can channel one. Not to blast, but… to move."
I threaded sinew through the soles, inlaid copper along the seams, and embedded quartz near the heels. It wasn't pretty. It looked like a shoemaker had lost a fight with a lightning storm. But when I funneled mana into the prototype, the quartz pulsed faintly, and the boots hummed.
The first test? A half-stumble, half-lunge across the room. The boots discharged with a crack and sent me skidding into the wall, narrowly missing the washbasin.
Lyra's sleepy voice floated from the bed. "...are you trying to kill yourself before morning?"
"It's called innovation!" I hissed, rubbing my knee. "The first pancake is always ugly."
She rolled over, muttering something in Elvish that I was fairly sure translated to "idiot."
Still, by dawn, I had something workable: boots that stored bursts of energy, releasing them to boost short dashes. Not perfect—too much charge and I'd overshoot like a drunk rabbit—but promising.
The morning sun painted the inn's common room golden as we sat down for breakfast. Fresh bread, soft cheese, and stew that made my stomach weep with joy. I tore into it like a starving man, then leaned back, satisfied.
Lyra's gaze dropped to my boots. "Those are new."
"Yep. Lightning dash boots. Version one-point-zero." I tapped my heels against the floor proudly.
"You'll break your neck in those."
"Or I'll outrun a monster. Either way, memorable."
Her lips twitched—the closest thing to a smile she'd allow over breakfast.
By the time we finished, I was practically buzzing. Full stomach, new boots, cloak concealing my arsenal, and a day in the city ahead. The market was calling, full of wonders to appraise, materials to hoard, and, if history was any guide… trouble waiting to pounce.
I grinned into my mug. "Let's go cause problems."
Lyra sighed. "At least you admit it now."