-Third-Person Perspective-
The room was thick with the scent of burning metal and soot. Gunnar Stroud's modest forge wasn't grand, but it was spacious enough to hold a variety of well-worn yet meticulously maintained tools. Heavy hammers hung on the walls, while unfinished sword blades lay scattered across a long workbench.
At the center of the workshop, a broad-shouldered man with a rough beard and sharp eyes studied Arkan Lawrence with deep suspicion.
"I don't take orders from nobles," he said—his words sharp, cold, and laced with distrust.
Arkan, however, remained calm and composed, a relaxed smile on his face. "Who said I came here to place an order?"
Gunnar narrowed his eyes. "Then why would a noble from a neutral kingdom travel all this way to visit a disgraced blacksmith?"
Rainer, standing beside Arkan, could feel the tension in the air. He remained on guard, ready to intervene if the conversation took a hostile turn.
