Chapter 19: Hammer and Fire, Jokes and Sparks
The morning air in Orario carried the faint scent of smoke and steel as Ethan followed Hestia through the winding streets, deeper into a district he hadn't seen before. It was quieter here—less flashy than the bustling marketplaces near Babel—but still alive with the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal.
"She's just up ahead," Hestia said, walking with a bit more pep in her step than usual.
"Your blacksmith friend?" Ethan asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. She's... rough around the edges, but she's one of the best. Been working alone since she left her Familia."
As they turned the corner, a large forge came into view. It was built into the side of a stone building, with heat shimmering from the chimney. The name was simple and carved into a wooden sign:
"Ira's Forge"
Ethan barely had time to take it in before a booming voice rang out.
"Well, well, if it isn't Little Hestia!"
From the forge emerged a tall, muscular woman with wild dark red hair tied back into a messy braid. Her eyes were sharp, and her apron was blackened with soot. She wiped her hands on a cloth and smirked.
"Been a while, shorty."
"I'm not short!" Hestia barked back instantly, puffing her cheeks.