Noctis’s gaze swept across the table where we were gathered. “So,” he began, his tone all business, “for our next course of action, I propose we return to Riverwood. Finnian can then complete his reading of the scrolls.” His eyes flickered towards Adrix, who offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. “I’ll also contact the guild to inquire if there’s any information regarding the peculiar behavior of the creatures. The rest of you can take this opportunity to rest.”

Turning to Finnian, he asked, “What’s your estimate on the time needed to finish reviewing the scrolls?”

“I will require a minimum of two days to complete my analysis and compile my discoveries,” Finnian responded, his expression studious.

“Understood,” Noctis affirmed. “Then, the rest of you, please take a two-day respite. We will reconvene at my residence two days following our return to Riverwood. I will send a dispatch with the specific time the day before our meeting.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” I remarked. Finally, a chance to get back to the forge. Those daggers had been sitting half-finished for far too long. I could practically smell the incandescent steel and hear the rhythmic clang of the hammer already. Two days should be just enough time to get them polished and ready for sale. Perhaps I’d even start on that new broadsword commission. I definitely had work awaiting me.

With the strategy set, we all quickly made preparations. Thankfully, Noctis managed to secure passage for us in a merchant’s wagon heading towards Riverwood. We departed at dawn, and the journey, blessedly uneventful, brought us back to the familiar town by nightfall.

The next morning, I rose before the sun, eager to lose myself in my craft. I picked up the twin daggers, admiring the intricate vine carvings that snaked down their polished lengths. The hilts, perfectly sized for smaller hands, felt well-balanced in my own. Liora’s face flickered in my mind. Would she even appreciate a new set? The thought sparked an idea, a way to make them truly special. My mind sifted through possibilities – a fiery enchantment? Too ostentatious for Liora. A chilling aura? Not quite her style. Then, the perfect concept solidified, something to enhance her natural grace.

Setting the daggers down with deliberate care, a thrill of anticipation coursed through me. I closed my eyes for a breath, visualizing Liora – her swift movements, her occasional need to slip from danger. When I opened them, my hands moved with practiced precision, tracing the air above the blades. A complex alchemy circle began to form, lines of shimmering energy weaving themselves into existence like threads of pure light. The atmosphere around the steel crackled, carrying the faint scent of ozone as mana surged from within me, drawn to the intricate design.

The circle pulsed with increasing intensity, its light casting dancing shadows across the workshop. I focused my will, not just on the effect I desired, but on the sensation of it – the fleeting shimmer of near-invisibility, the exhilarating rush of sudden speed. I imagined Liora striking, and in that instant, becoming a phantom, untouchable, before blurring into motion once more. This focused intent poured into the circle, and the mana within responded, swirling and condensing.

Then, the daggers began to react. The polished steel seemed to drink in the light of the circle, their vine carvings glowing with an inner luminescence, as if the very metal was awakening. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through the workbench and into my fingertips. The mana above intensified, forming swirling vortexes of opalescent color that mirrored the evasive and swift energies I was channeling. It felt like holding a miniature storm above the blades, raw magical power waiting to be bound. With a final surge of my will, I directed the energy downwards. The vortexes elongated, tendrils of light snaking down to touch the daggers. At the point of contact, sparks flew, and the humming intensified to a resonant thrum. The metal appeared to absorb the magic, the glowing carvings blazing brighter before slowly fading, leaving the daggers with a subtle, almost imperceptible shimmer – a silent testament to the power now residing within.

“Perfect,” I murmured, a satisfied smile touching my lips as I picked up the imbued daggers, their familiar weight now carrying a subtle magical resonance. I found a secure spot for them in my small storage room. The shelves there were lined with various enhancement potions I had brewed over time, their glass vials glinting in the dim light – a potion of stone-skin like liquid granite, another of eagle-eye clarity. A few cherished weapons also rested there – pieces I hadn’t been able to part with yet, like the short sword with a wolf’s head pommel I’d affectionately named ‘Fang.’ Sometimes, a weapon just felt right, crafted for a specific hand, even if that hand hadn’t found it yet.

There was a soft knock at my front door. I opened it to find a young girl, no older than nine, with tangled brown hair and wide, brown eyes that held a weariness no child should possess. Dark circles shadowed beneath them.

“How can I help you?” I asked gently.

“I… I need something,” she began, her voice quiet and almost strained, “to make someone… stronger.” Something in her demeanor stirred my concern. As innocent as the request seemed coming from a child, a prickle of unease traced its way down my spine. Something wasn’t right.

“A potion to make someone stronger,” I echoed softly. “I might be able to assist with that. Come in and have a seat on the chair over there.” She shuffled inside and perched on the edge of the offered seat, her small hands fidgeting in her lap, her right leg bouncing nervously.

I knelt down in front of her, wanting to meet her gaze at her level. “Can I ask why you need this potion?” She looked away, her attention fixed on some unseen point on the wooden floor. “How about this,” I offered, trying a different approach. “I was just about to have a snack. Would you like to join me?”

She gave a weary nod, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

“Great,” I said, offering her a warm expression. I retrieved the loaf of bread I’d bought and sliced off a few generous pieces. Adding a couple of crisp apples to the plate, I handed it to her and settled down on the floor opposite, eating alongside her.

Finishing my apple, I turned my attention back to the girl, offering a soft smile. “My name is Lyra,” I said kindly. “What’s your name?”

Her reply was a mere breath, “Clarissa,” as she consumed the final piece of bread.

“Wow, that’s such a lovely name,” I said, trying to sound as genuinely friendly as possible. “I’m so glad to meet you, Clarissa.” She offered a slight, hesitant upturn of her lips in return. I let her finish the rest of her apple slices in comfortable quiet, sensing she still needed time.

After a few silent moments, I inquired softly, “Are you feeling a bit better after having something to eat?”

She slowly nodded. “It was good. Thank you for the food.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I replied warmly. “So, you mentioned wanting a potion to make someone strong. Why is that?”

“I want to be strong to help my mom,” she stated, her voice still quiet but holding a hint of determination. My heart ached a little at her words.

“Oh my,” I said gently. “I’m sure your mom thinks you’re very strong already. She probably thinks you’re the strongest person she knows.”

“Yes, my mom does think I’m the strongest,” Clarissa affirmed, her gaze dropping to her lap, “but I have to be stronger for her.”

“Why do you have to be stronger for her?” I prompted, trying to keep my tone neutral and encouraging.

She looked up at me, her small face serious. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked, covering half of her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide and a little fearful.

I paused for a fraction of a second. “I can’t promise that I can keep any secret, Clarissa,” I said honestly, wanting to build trust through transparency. “But I can promise that I’ll listen carefully, and I’ll do what I can to help you, if you tell me.” I offered her a warm, reassuring expression.

“Okay…” she breathed, her hand still hovering near her mouth. A long moment of silence stretched between us, filled only by the gentle ticking of a clock on the wall. I waited patiently for her to gather her courage.

A wave of sympathy washed over me as Clarissa’s small voice trembled, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. “My mom…she’s very sick,” she whispered, her lower lip starting to quiver. “It’s just mom and I.” Tears welled up in her brown eyes, brimming over and tracing paths down her pale cheeks. “I’ve been trying to earn money to help,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “But the collectors came…and they said if we didn’t pay…they would kick us out of our home.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Clarissa,” I said softly, my own resolve hardening. “You’ve been incredibly brave and strong already, just trying to help your mom. I promise you, I can assist you both. But you won’t need a strength potion. First, I’d like to ask an acquaintance of mine, someone with healing skills, to take a look at your mother.”

Her eyes, still glistening with tears, widened slightly, and a small, hesitant smile flickered across her lips, a fragile bloom of relief. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Also,” I continued, wanting to address the immediate threat, “how much money are these ‘collectors’ demanding?” My internal calculation quickly tallied my available funds – it would be a significant portion of my savings from the last several commission, but Clarissa’s safety was paramount.

“One hundred silver,” she said, her voice barely audible, the flicker of hope in her eyes seeming to dim slightly as she spoke the amount, as if it were an insurmountable sum.

“I can manage that,” I said firmly, offering her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure everything out, Clarissa. Now, I’ll need you to give me your address so I can find you after I get the healer.”

She readily provided the address, her small hand clutching mine for a brief moment. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice a little stronger this time, before turning and heading out the door, a sliver of hope finally visible in her small figure.

I made my way towards Noctis’s residence, knowing Liora and Finnian were staying there. The afternoon air was warm against my skin as I walked. The guard at the gate, a different one from my last visit, greeted me with a friendly nod and led me to the sitting room. A moment later, Liora came through the doors, her blonde hair practically reflecting the bright afternoon sun. “Hi Lyra, what did you need help with?” she asked, her usual cheerful demeanor present.

“I have a favor to ask,” I explained. “I met a little girl today whose mom is very ill. I was wondering if you would be willing to take a look at her.”

“Of course, I’d actually like to get out anyway,” Liora replied, a slight roll of her eyes. “Finn is just hopelessly buried in those scrolls, piecing everything together, so I can’t bring myself to bother him right now.”

“Wonderful, thank you so much,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. We quickly made our way to Clarissa’s house. It was a small, humble dwelling, but it had a cozy feel, clearly decorated with care. Clarissa led us inside and to her mother, who was lying pale and frail in bed. Liora immediately went to work. Her hands began to glow with soft, golden mana as it enveloped the woman. Liora concentrated, a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow as the light intensified then gradually softened. After several minutes, Clarissa’s mother stirred, color returning to her cheeks, and slowly sat up, a look of profound relief on her face. “Thank you so much for healing me,” she said, her voice still a little weak but clear.

“It was no problem at all,” Liora said with a warm smile. “Just take it easy for a little while, rest up, but the worst has passed. Make sure to dress warmly if you go out at night so you don’t catch a chill.” The woman nodded gratefully, and Clarissa began showing us towards the door. “When do th—” I started to ask Clarissa about the collectors, but before I could finish the sentence, the front door swung inward with a loud bang.

Standing in the doorway was a large, burly man, his arms crossed menacingly, a sneer on his face. “Where’s my hundred silver? You better pay up, or you’re out on the street today!” he growled, his gaze sweeping over us with disdain. Liora tensed beside me, ready to intervene, but I gave a subtle shake of my head.

I calmly reached into my satchel and pulled out the coin purse containing the silver. “Here’s the one hundred silver,” I stated, my voice even as I held it out to him. “You can count it if you wish.”

He snatched the purse from my hand and contemptuously counted the coins, his thick fingers clinking against the metal. “Everything’s here,” he grunted, stuffing the purse into his belt. “Got lucky this time. Make sure you pay on time next month and don’t fall behind again.” With a final, threatening glare, he slammed the door shut, leaving the small house quiet once more.

The little girl, Clarissa, thanked us again, her eyes shining with a newfound hope, and we stepped out of their humble home.

“Liora, do you mind coming with me to my workshop?” I inquired, a small smile playing on my lips. “I actually have something I’d like to give you.”

“Yes, I’d love that!” she replied enthusiastically. “Plus, I’d really like to see some of the weapons you craft.”

We made our way through the bustling town. The streets were alive with activity, people hurrying to and fro, their voices creating a lively hum in the air. Merchants called out their wares, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed from a nearby alley.

“Here,” I said, holding the door to my workshop open for her. “You can go first.”

She stepped inside and then just stood still for a moment, her eyes wide with admiration. “Wow, it’s even nicer than I imagined!” she exclaimed, slowly turning her head to take in the sight of the various armaments displayed on the walls and shelves.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, slipping into the back room to retrieve the daggers. I carefully placed them on my main workbench.

Liora followed me, her gaze immediately drawn to the twin blades. “Wow, those are beautiful! I’ve never seen daggers with such intricate decorations on them,” she said, her fingers practically itching to touch them.

“These are actually for you,” I said, my voice gentle. She picked up the daggers, turning them over in her hands, examining the delicate vine carvings. A look of surprise, then delight, spread across her face.

“For me?” she breathed. “Lyra, they’re wonderful! I… I feel a strange thrum to them, a lightness… I feel quicker just holding them!” Her eyes shone. “Thank you so much. I’ve never held daggers that felt like they were made just for me. Their weight, the balance… everything is just right.”

A warm smile spread across my own face. “I hoped they might help you slip through danger. I’m so glad that you like them.”

I noticed a subtle shift in the mana within the workshop, a faint tingling in the air that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Curious, I watched as a letter began to materialize in front of me, shimmering into existence as if pulled from the very fabric of the air. I reached out and took it. The familiar seal of Noctis was pressed firmly into the wax. The letter was brief:

Please come to my estate at two o’clock tomorrow to discuss the findings. Thank you sincerely, Noctis.

“Looks like you’ll finally get to see Finnian again,” I remarked to Liora, holding up the missive.

“Hey, we all get to get some answers finally. That was the whole point of all this,” she replied, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

“That’s true,” I agreed, a thoughtful expression crossing my face. “I just hope we’ll have a clearer idea of what’s going on and what we need to do next after our discussion.”