It wasn’t often that Arandoros got out of the city, away from the hustle and bustle. Normally he was stuck in his forge after hours, trying to finish up the latest work order that absolutely had to be done the next morning. There were at least five of those every two weeks, and half of them simply looked to exploit his potentially fast production. He did his best to accommodate most of the time, but this was not one of those days. No, he had something much more important to do, and as his horse led him over the border between Eversong and the Ghostlands, a chill different than the sort he usually felt when in this area ran up his spine.
It was the chance of a lifetime, really. It had been over a century since he’d heard the man’s stories, but his father had told Arandoros many tales of working for Lord Silvercrest, Eliot’s father. And now he was about to decide whether or not he would take that mantle up again, though for the next generation. Those sorts of thoughts kept his mind occupied until he reached his destination, at which point he dismounted and tethered his horse off, smiling as he took a look at the place.
It was big, that much was certain, and more private. There were actual walls and not the shared public area in Farstriders’ Square that he’d been occupying for the last while. It was the same size as that area, but definitely cleaner, as though someone had prepared the place for him. “I’ll have to thank him for the courtesy,” Aran murmured to himself as he made his way toward the actual forges. He was certainly impressed by the quality, as well as how neatly the heating mechanism was stored. There wasn’t as much chance for impurities to fall into the flames, like had happened so often in Silvermoon.
Then came time to look over what materials he would have access to. The crates were stacked as high and wide as his total stock of raw materials his shop had, but there was that much of every material he could possibly think to need. “My my, the things I could do with you..” he murmured as he pulled a bar of Thorium from the nearest crate. “The things I very well may do..” He replaced it, nodding and smirking as he looked around.
“I could use you for weapons…” he started, looking to the first workstation. The second was larger, and when his gaze reached it, he spoke again. “You for the armor..” His eyes fell to the third, smallest one, and that smirk widened. “And you for everything in between.” Training, metals for different types of apparatuses, pendants that required refined metals. Plenty of different uses.
“Oh, Lord Silvercrest,” Aran spoke to himself as he turned. He’d been here too long, far too long for a lunch break. “You don’t know what you’ve offered me.” As he made his way out of the Silvercrest Blacksmith and mounted his horse, he couldn’t help the smile that lingered on his lips. “Here comes the future.”