Valir’s markets were a swirling sea of color and sound, a stark yet welcomed contrast to the stillness and stuffiness of the castle and library. Merchants hocked their wares, offering everything from fragrant spices to finely woven fabrics while performers danced to the lively tunes that a group of bards strummed on their lutes in the square. Athi and Finn strolled through the chaos, with Athi dressed down in a simple long tunic and trousers and wearing a simple headdress to hide her pointed ears in an effort to blend into the crowd.

Occasionally, she would stop to inspect a trinket or piece of jewelry, marveling at the craftsmanship. At a particular shop on the outskirts of town, Athi spotted a silver hairpin with delicate blue jewels in the shape of a crescent moon, the intricate pattern in the metal catching her eye.

“Another for your collection?” Finn teased as she handed a few coins to the vendor.

“Perhaps,” Athi replied with a small smile, tucking it into her satchel. “It’s nice to have a piece of jewelry that I chose and not one that is forced on me.”

“Of course,” Finn replied, grinning. “Though I don’t recall ever seeing you wearing any of the things you purchase.”

Athi rolled her eyes. “Well, of course not! There are times and places for certain pieces, and I’m afraid the people of Ardenholm are not quite ready to see me in such a decorated state.”

Finn gave a hearty laugh at that. “Spoken like a true noble,” he teased.

She gave him a withering glare. “Maybe don’t go around advertising that I’m of ‘higher blood.’ I’d rather not attract unwanted attention while I’m out and about.”

Finn’s gaze shifted to a nearby shop with a stall set up outside displaying blades of varying sizes. A large, burly man who was missing half of his left arm was sitting behind the counter while a younger man - who very well could be a younger version of the older man - was sitting outside polishing what looked to be a sword guard. The larger man with the missing arm had a thick wave of greying curls on his head and a close-shaven dark beard, while the younger version of him had a thick mop of dark curls and stubble. Both of their shoulders were broad with squared features, and while the older of the two wore a simple tunic and dark trousers, the younger had a thick leather apron on with a pair of thick leather gloves, and he was covered in soot streaks.

“You know,” Finn mused as he turned back to Athi. “If you’re worried about unwanted attention, maybe get something for personal safety.”

Athi followed his gaze to the smithy shop Finn was eyeing, the brick and clay walls stained with soot and the scent of hot metal slamming her senses. She gave a slight cough, frowning. “A weapon? Please, I can’t even lift a sword. Besides, I have my shield magic.”

“As impressive as it is,” Finn said slowly, “what happens if your shield fails? Or someone catches you off guard?”

She grimaced at that, pursing her lips.

“Having the option would be nice,” Finn said. “That’s all I mean.”

Athi huffed. “I’d rather avoid it if possible,” she said, the idea of carrying a weapon feeling foreign and uncomfortable.

“Yes, well, I’d rather avoid working both of my jobs, but when the Ladies have other things in mind,” Finn countered, his voice trailing off meaningfully.

She rolled her eyes. “Surely your ‘Ladies’ didn’t plan for your life to be the way it is.”

“No,” Finn noted. “But unlike other certain people I know, I did not have the privilege of being born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and while you make a rather charming commoner, it’s quite obvious that you are not of common blood.”

Athi glanced at him, concerned. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “You’re a target out here, Athi. Coming out into the town dressed down doesn’t hide the fact you carry yourself with high regard. Not everyone is as sweet as I am.”

She supposed he was right. The plain clothes she wore, while they would make her father give her a bewildered look, were of nicer quality than most of those she sees in the markets. Eventually, she nodded. “Very well, then. I suppose something for ‘just in case’ wouldn’t be too terrible to have on hand.”

Her friend grinned and led her to the table where the younger man was calling out his wares as he polished the sword piece in his hands.

“Welcome to the Rusty Dragon Forge,” the broad-shouldered man with a friendly demeanor greeted. “Looking for anything specific? Perhaps an ornamental piece for the wall? Or a paring knife for the kitchens?”

“A dagger,” Athi requested. “Something reliable, but nothing too flashy.”

Finn added, “Something she can use in self-defense should the need arise.”

The young man nodded with a grin and gestured to a display of small blades and knives. “We’ve a variety of daggers perfect for self defense over on this side. Please, take your time!”

Athi thanked the young merchant as she examined the daggers, lifting each one to feel their weight. A slight commotion from within the shop pulls Athi’s attention to the back of the forge, and she pauses, watching a woman with auburn hair wipe sweat from her brow as she argues with an even younger version of the man before her. Athi can’t hear what they’re arguing about, but the woman seems annoyed and exhausted as she picks up an odd-looking sword and wanders to a thick bench. She rubs something thick onto the metal as she sits down and begins scratching something into it. Her movement was precise and focused, and the intense look in her exhausted eyes caught Athi’s attention.

“A woman working a forge?” Athi murmured, more to herself than anyone in particular.

The merchant before her, having heard Athi, seemed to take a defensive stance, his shoulders rolling and his jaw setting. “She’s one of the best smiths in town,” the merchant said in a tone that dared Athi to question it.

“Oh, apologies,” Athi replied quickly. “I meant no disrespect. In fact, I’m actually rather pleased to see a woman at work in a forge.”

The merchant eyed Athi with heavy scrutiny, seeming to examine everything about her as she stood, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. Around him, Athi continued to watch the female smith, intrigued. From her time in Ardenholm, it was incredibly rare, if not unheard of, to find a woman in a field such as smithing, though in Eryndor, skill was valued over tradition. Seeing the woman so engrossed in her craft reminded Athi a little of home and the freedoms she had taken for granted there, and for a brief moment, she wondered if she would be able to do the same thing and break from the expectations that loomed over her own head.

A deep chuckle pulled Athi from her thoughts, and she was startled, blinking as the merchant seemed to relax in front of her. He pulled a dagger from the edge of the display she had been examining and set it before her. It was sleek with a leather-wrapped hilt, its blade gleaming with a sharp edge. “This one should serve you well, then,” the merchant said, handing her the dagger. “Balanced, durable, and easy to conceal. Soren made it herself.”

Athi glanced at the merchant as she took hold of the dagger. He was right; it felt almost natural in her hand, awkward only in the way that it was a tool she was not used to handling, though she could see and feel the craftsmanship in it. She smiled, sheathing it in the scabbard it came with. “I’ll take it, then,” she said, digging in her coin pouch to pay.

As they left the forge, Finn grinned at Athi. “Feeling any safer?”

She rolled her eyes, though there was no bite to the action. “A little,” Athi admitted, tucking the dagger into her satchel. Her thoughts, however, lingered on the female smith. “Perhaps Ardenholm isn’t as traditional as I originally thought,” Athi muttered to herself with a small smile.

Finn chuckled. “You should get out more, then.”

“I get out,” Athi argued.

“Leaving the library doesn’t count if you only go to the gardens and your chambers, Athi,” Finn pointed out.

She pursed her lips, remaining quiet as they wandered back to the castle, Athi’s mind churning with questions.