The quiet town of Cadman had never had experienced anything remotely exciting. Sitting on a major traveling road in a valley between two majestic mountains, the village remained hidden from most wandering eyes. The location served mostly as a place for travelers to stay, which meant not many people actually lived in the town. There were several families who had inhabited Cadman for several generations; they were the heart and soul of the quaint village.
Different shops and stands lined the main streets of Cadman, all selling wares to passing travelers. A boy sat behind the desk of one particular shop, his head lying down on the top of the wooden piece of furniture in boredom. The sign in the window read Blacksmith in hand-painted letters, indicating what the shop was prepared to sell. It'd been hours since the shop had opened and still no customers had come to call. The boy behind the counter, probably somewhere in his early teenage years in age, yawned for the tenth time.
"Briac," A stern voice erupted from behind the boy, shocking him from whatever thoughts he had been lost in before and casing him to quickly snap up his head.
"Y-yes, Sir?" The teen stuttered, trying to keep his composure. A middle-aged man stepped through a large wooden doorframe into the area behind the counter, filling up most of the small space with his protruding middle section. The man wore a stained work apron, black trousers, and a beige cardigan. He stood slightly above six foot in height, and a graying beard stretched across his plump, aged face.
"Falling asleep again, I see," The man's booming voice reverberated through the boy's head, making his eardrums hurt.
"No, S-sir!" Briac immediately sat up straighter on the stool that supported him.
The man pushed past his apprentice and made his way across the rest of the shop. Different tools, such as hammers, axes, and swords, hung from the old, wooden walls, and the smell of rusted metal hung in the air. The weather outside was overcast, which painted a bluish, eerie glow over the shop. A single candle smoldered on a stand next to Briac on the wooden counter, creating a brighter form of light.
The young teen's blonde hair nearly fell over his russet eyes as he looked at the small flame, a result of a belated haircut. His youthful face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were dirty as well, both from working everyday in the shop. When he wasn't managing the customers, Briac spent his time working on his apprenticeship with his master, Mr. Smith. The hours were long, and there was no pay, but the education was worth it. The Smiths allowed Briac to live with them as part of their family, which was more kindness than most apprentices were blessed with.
"I'm going to go run some errands, Briac," Mr. Smith announced. After getting up from his seat, Briac picked up the man's heavier coat and assisted him in putting it on. "I trust you to man the shop while I'm gone," the older man continued, running a calloused hand through his brown, thinning tresses.
"Of course, Sir," the boy nodded, his deep, brown eyes sparkling with youth.
"Marie is upstairs as always. I will not be long." And with that, Mr. Smith waved his goodbye and departed. Briac watched him go, his eyes following his master in the window until his hefty figure was out of sight. The boy looked upward, wondering if Marie, Mr. Smith's young daughter, would want to come down and keep him company. Dismissing the thought, Briac laid his head back down on the wooden counter.
He watched as droplets started to fall from the clouded sky, and water slowly started dripping onto the large glass window. This pre-winter weather was always a boring time for the apprentice, always filled with long days and dreary conditions. The boy's eyelids slowly began to shut as the minutes dragged on in endless dullness.
Suddenly, the main door of the shop swung open, causing the boy to snap awake from his short half-sleep. A traveler stood at the entrance, his wet, dark hair sticking to his forehead. The person appeared to be a young man, probably not past the age of twenty-five. Briac looked the traveler up and down, examining his tight-fitting black attire and long cape hanging from his shoulders, which fell down almost to his ankles. The stranger approached the desk warily, as if being unsure of his welcome. Briac shook his head lightly, trying to regain his thoughts.
"Welcome, Sir." The boy greeted in his accented voice. "May I help you?"
The stranger looked about, and then ran a hand through his soaked tresses. As he came closer, Briac could make out the exact color of his hair and eyes. Both were a brilliant blue, an odd for human traits to be.
"I need a sword," the traveler finally answered, revealing his deeply toned voice. "How long would it take to have one made?"
Briac lifted himself from his seat and ventured out from behind the counter. The traveler stepped back as the boy did so. Stopping at one of the walls that displayed many of the handmade tools, Briac lifted one of the swords from the hooks that held it.
"We have a few swords already made, Sir," the apprentice said, holding out the sheathed weapon. The man hesitantly extended his hand and retrieved the sword, then proceeded to examine it with uncertainty. He ran his hand over the embroidered, silver handle, which displayed the craftsmanship of a skilled artisan.
"This is very nice," the stranger observed, releasing the metal from its leather covering.
"That right there is a Falchion sword, Sir," the boy continued, a smile crossing his lips. The traveler stepped back and held the exposed blade before him, as if mimicking a sparring stance. Twisting his wrist several times, the traveler continued to evaluate the sword's worth and ability.
"I have never seen a sword of this fashion," the stranger replied. He held the sword with two hands, the handle in one palm and the blade in the other.
"You must not be from around here then," the apprentice commented. "The Falchion is a very popular style of sword in these parts. The metal comes directly from the capital of Altea itself." The boy beamed with a toothy smile, as if expressing pride for his country.
"This territory is part of Altea?" The traveler's brilliant eyes suddenly met the boy's and glowed with urgency.
"Of course, Sir," Briac grinned. "Everything following the mountain to the east is the country of Altea." The boy pointed to the said landmark with one finger. "This here is Cadman, a town mostly for travelers."
Sheathing the blade again, the traveler looked about the room again.
"How far is the capital from here?" The young stranger inquired.
"I'd say about a three week journey by horse, Sir," the apprentice answered, smiling again. "How long have you been traveling, Sir? If you don't mind me asking."
"Several weeks, I'm sure," the stranger said quietly. "I left my home in search of Altea, but soon realized I had no idea which direction I should follow." Reaching into one of his pockets, the young man retrieved a wet piece of paper. Opening it, he handed the document to the apprentice. "This is all I've been following."
"This?" Briac spat. "This is just a sketch of a map, Sir," the boy flipped the paper in several different directions, as if trying to decide which way it was meant to be held. "Hyrule?" He finally read. "I've never heard of that place."
"It's a country not far from here," the young traveler explained. "It fell into ruin many years ago, but it is still my home."
"Can I ask why you left, Sir?" Briac questioned, lifting his gaze from the document to meet the radiant, cerulean eyes of the older man.
"They are reasons you could not understand, boy," the traveler chuckled, handing the sheathed sword back to the apprentice. "I will buy this sword from your master when he returns."
"Do you not trust me, Sir?" the boy's eyes displayed a sense of worry. "I am an honest apprentice!"
"No," the traveler laughed again. "I only wish to meet the master blacksmith for myself."
Briac nodded, gripping harder at the weapon in his hands. The apprentice then returned to his seat behind the counter, placing the blade on the wooden piece of furniture before him. Several minutes passed as the stranger continued to look about the shop, as if looking for another item to purchase. Both boys looked up when the front door suddenly opened, revealing a stout man in a drenched winter coat. Mr. Smith's eyes shot to the stranger ambling about the shop, and then to the boy behind the counter.
"This man wishes to buy one of our swords, Sir," Briac announced to the blacksmith, standing up from his seat. Mr. Smith's gaze fell to the young traveler again, who was now approaching him with an outstretched hand.
"My name is Caleb of Hyrule," The young man introduced, shaking Mr. Smith's cautious hand. "Your apprentice is a fine one, Sir," he complimented. "He is very nice young man."
"I'm Edan Smith," Mr. Smith replied in his husky tone, retracting his hand. "The owner of this shop." Stepping further into the small shop, Mr. Smith looked at Caleb once more before proceeding to the counter where Briac stood. "The sword, boy," the middle aged man ordered, outstretching his hand to the apprentice. Briac quickly obliged and placed the weapon in his master's waiting grasp.
"Perhaps this will be enough?' Caleb asked, placing a small satchel of coins onto the counter. Briac retrieved the money without hesitation, opening the leather pouch and curiously looking inside. His mouth fell agape, shocked by the amount of gold coins that lay within. The apprentice held the satchel open for Mr. Smith to see, which made the older man gain a surprised expression as well. The blacksmith's grip loosened around the sword, and Caleb took the opportunity to reach out and gently seize the weapon from him.
After attaching the Falchion to his belt, Caleb smiled, nodded in acknowledgment, and turned on his heel. He marched straight to the front door of the shop, opened the wooden entrance, and then ventured out into the pouring winter rain without another word. The blacksmith and his apprentice stayed in silence for only a moment longer.
"Something tells me I shouldn't have sold that boy that sword." Mr. Smith whispered, shrugging out of his coat and then placing it back in its spot on a nearby coat rack.
"What do you mean, Sir?" Briac inquired, his eyes following his master as he paced about the room.
"His eyes were like none I'd ever seen before…so dark and blue…" the older man looked away, as if lost in deep thought. Mr. Smith continued walking until he reached the large glass window, which was now hazed over with fog from the rain. Looking out at the street, he continued to murmur quiet thoughts aloud, unaware of the apprentice that was still listening. "Killer eyes…those were killer's eyes…"
Briac thought about the eyes of the stranger. It was true; the traveler's eyes had appeared brighter than any he'd ever seen before. Did that make them murderous? Apparently it did in the mind of Mr. Smith.
"I've never seen such eyes before…" the blacksmith continued to mumble. "Nothing good can come of this…"
A/N: it's finally fun to write again :D sorry for all the OCs...