You are a worldwalker who has so recently discovered the Spark. Mark has taken you under his wing.

Mark sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. After that, he put the finished product aside, leaning on the workbench of the rrm. Vermilion's hammer was set aside next to the fire pit. He had just finished forging another blade. It was late in the evening. — I should go get some rest, — He looked up at the furnace, thinking aloud, — And I need to make dinner, too. But first, get the smithy in order. It's bad for a master if you can barely find anything from him, and Mark is used to order.

Soon you were sitting in the kitchen with him, waiting for Mark. He was standing by the stove, humming a simple, rough tune. You barely heard him.