The forge was hot, Olric had run off to the bath house to get some much needed r&r, leaving March alone (which he preferred) working on yet another order of nails this week. Tossing the last, small, iron nail away, his eyes left the anvil for a mere second to glance behind himself to the large fountain in the center of town. Adeline was writing paperwork down on her clipboard with Eiland, Valen walking up the stone steps to greet them… Then…in the distance, near skipping up the steps… The new farmer. March’s face fell. He turned, huffed and worked on a new order of knives that the inn had requested, brows knit and his jaw grit as the hammer slammed down heavy to the hot metal…