34th Autumn 515
Alija stepped off the boat with Kial in one hand and Trump held in the other, their bags on their backs and Rosco padding slowly beside them. The journey had been easy on all four of them, born for the sea, but she was glad to be back on dry land, albeit it being as foreign as it was. The man who had come to her about the will followed behind, face green with sickness. Unlike them, he found every moment torturous.
It was this little group that wound its way through the streets, mainly avoiding the monks that prowled them, eyeing the foreigners curiously. Whenever they came over though, the lawyer talked to them quickly, words uttered in a way Alija didn't quiet catch. They had a different accent, that was all, but when that accent was all she could hear, it was unnerving.
They quickly reached a tall stone building, tucked into the houses where it could easily be passed. A sign hung at the front, sticking out so people would notice it more, the word's simply carved: "The Ocean's Forge.". Alija smiled at it, realising what it meant. She would own the blacksmith. She would have her own little shop. Living in Nyka seemed better now, if only by a small amount.
The lawyer nodded at her, passing over the keys to the building. "It's yours now. I'll make the final arrangements if necessary, but everything you did on the ship will be fine for now." He disappeared quickly after that, and Alija was left staring at her new abode, wondering what might come of it.
She unlocked the door, entering the slightly dusty front shop. It was small and poorly furnished, but sweet, and she could picture the shelves lined with stock and herself manning the counter, in between working hard at the smithy. That would cause difficulty, but she would manage. It would take a few days to get used to, but she was determined to try.
Rosco settled into a position at the side of the shop, guarding the staircase that led up to another locked door. She was glad that she took him, as he would prove an excellent guard dog. Trump of course had to come, Kial and her inseparable, and Rosco wouldn't leave his friend.
Kial ran into the back room, and she followed him in, revealing a small stone smithy with the tools she required. The forge was simple, but would work well, and the anvil looked well worn. There was a bucket of water waiting, and soot still covered the floor. It seemed as if it was used everyday, well loved and cared for. Of course it would be: her father had a passion for blacksmithing even greater than her own.
Past that was an empty room, but there were signs that it had been used for storage when he had still lived. But now it was just as empty as it would have been when new. She struggled to stop the tears. If only she had been here with her father.
Alija stepped off the boat with Kial in one hand and Trump held in the other, their bags on their backs and Rosco padding slowly beside them. The journey had been easy on all four of them, born for the sea, but she was glad to be back on dry land, albeit it being as foreign as it was. The man who had come to her about the will followed behind, face green with sickness. Unlike them, he found every moment torturous.
It was this little group that wound its way through the streets, mainly avoiding the monks that prowled them, eyeing the foreigners curiously. Whenever they came over though, the lawyer talked to them quickly, words uttered in a way Alija didn't quiet catch. They had a different accent, that was all, but when that accent was all she could hear, it was unnerving.
They quickly reached a tall stone building, tucked into the houses where it could easily be passed. A sign hung at the front, sticking out so people would notice it more, the word's simply carved: "The Ocean's Forge.". Alija smiled at it, realising what it meant. She would own the blacksmith. She would have her own little shop. Living in Nyka seemed better now, if only by a small amount.
The lawyer nodded at her, passing over the keys to the building. "It's yours now. I'll make the final arrangements if necessary, but everything you did on the ship will be fine for now." He disappeared quickly after that, and Alija was left staring at her new abode, wondering what might come of it.
She unlocked the door, entering the slightly dusty front shop. It was small and poorly furnished, but sweet, and she could picture the shelves lined with stock and herself manning the counter, in between working hard at the smithy. That would cause difficulty, but she would manage. It would take a few days to get used to, but she was determined to try.
Rosco settled into a position at the side of the shop, guarding the staircase that led up to another locked door. She was glad that she took him, as he would prove an excellent guard dog. Trump of course had to come, Kial and her inseparable, and Rosco wouldn't leave his friend.
Kial ran into the back room, and she followed him in, revealing a small stone smithy with the tools she required. The forge was simple, but would work well, and the anvil looked well worn. There was a bucket of water waiting, and soot still covered the floor. It seemed as if it was used everyday, well loved and cared for. Of course it would be: her father had a passion for blacksmithing even greater than her own.
Past that was an empty room, but there were signs that it had been used for storage when he had still lived. But now it was just as empty as it would have been when new. She struggled to stop the tears. If only she had been here with her father.
