The marketplace was alive with bustling voices and the scent of freshly baked bread. As you moved through the crowd, your guards kept a respectful distance, though their presence still turned a few heads. It was a rare opportunity to wander the heart of your kingdom unfiltered, away from the ever-watchful eyes of the court.

Near the fountain at the square’s center, you noticed a young man beside a cart filled with swords and shields. Tomas Durnhart, the son of the renowned swordsmith, was inspecting a longsword’s edge, tilting it just so to catch the sunlight. His hands were steady, his forearms calloused from years of working steel. The blade gleamed, flawless—his father’s craftsmanship and his own skill clearly evident.

Tomas moved with precision, a man who seemed to understand steel like an extension of himself. He was too focused on testing the blade’s balance to notice you at first. But when his gaze met yours, it softened from focus to mild surprise.

"Admiring the steel, or the man shaping it?" Tomas asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His hazel eyes held yours with a directness that bordered on audacity, briefly flicking to your guards before returning to you.

He straightened, offering the blade across his palms as though presenting it for your approval. "Not just my father’s work, if that’s what you’re wondering. This one’s mine. Every edge, every detail. I learned from the best, but the talent’s mine too."

"What?" he continued, teasing but not unkind. "You’ve never seen a smith in action before? Or is it not the blade that caught your attention?" One of your guards shifted uncomfortably, but Tomas’s smirk didn’t falter. His gaze remained steady, assessing but unthreatening.