Chapter 21: Come Out Swinging
Gareth Irontongs was not having a good day. Or a good week. It wasn't his year, either.
Retirement was supposed to be peaceful and relaxing—time to really focus on his craft and dive into his passion. An opportunity to ignore the pressures of fast-paced city life with its demanding clients wanting everything done now, now, now. He was done with that life and the weapons that came with it—especially swords. If he never had to make one of those gods-awful gem-encrusted hilts again, it would still be too soon.
No, he just wanted to relax and spend an afternoon on a single project. Like making a beautifully-filigreed teacup for his wife. Or fixing his neighbor's plow such that it would last a hundred years longer than its original maker intended.
However, life had other ideas. Things in Habersville were not nearly as quiet as his niece had promised. Not anymore. Mere months after his arrival, the sleepy out-of-the-way town had become a war zone.
Well, not really a war zone. There weren't any battles actually being fought, really, aside from those against the forest's monsters. But it was hard to see it as anything else given the gargantuan army camp that had spring up overnight. And that wasn't the worst of it. Temples were being taken down and constructed anew. Houses had been demolished and replaced. There were great works of moving water in progress, and even the walls were rebuilt in a day.
It was all very exciting—and Gareth hated it.
He let out a resigned sigh as he headed back toward his workshop. After an initial period of tumult, things had slowly begun returning to normal—as normal as they could be under the Legion, at least. But now there were rumors that this army was preparing for war. Actual war, against actual people. That didn't exactly inspire confidence that such a state would last. Especially given that the iron ore in his shop was starting to run low.
Talking to the merchants he knew confirmed that a new shipment was supposed to come in later next week, long before it would actually run out. But would that even make it to the town? The Legion had been pretty strict on the movement of things in and out of town, so he wasn't exactly optimistic. It wasn't like anyone would prioritize the needs of the local blacksmith among all this..
As he stomped back into the smithy, Gareth frowned in distaste. The blast of heat he'd been expecting was nowhere to be found. It barely took him a glance to realize that the bellows had been allowed to grow cold.