Sparks flew in all directions as the hammer repeatedly struck the Cobalt billet with the rhythmic ring of metal striking metal. Gharen had folded the billet what felt like hundreds of times in the creation of this blade; he was using this time to think, to replay events in his head and weigh the information out. Days earlier he’d returned to Nanawa mines, the scene of the explosion, figuring he would not have much time before the Brass Blades, Immortal Flames, or even the Sultansworn arrived.
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He’d removed his armor and changed into something less conspicuous; to the passing observer he looked like one of the refugee miners who were attempting to douse the few remaining fires that were still going. Hauling a bucket of water, he moved to where he guessed the explosion had come from. Gharen scanned the ground; the blast had done well to cover the evidence at its epicenter. But amongst the tracks, he spotted footprints in the dust and dirt that didn’t match the more recent tracks of the miners attempting to put the fires out.
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Kneeling down to examine the them, Gharen could see that they were lightly made, as if someone was moving with speed and intent coming from the flanks of where their scuffle had been. He surmised them to be Miqo’te or Midlander possibly, based on the size and weight of the print, and they were heading toward the epicenter of the blast. He followed the footprints until they emerged from the mouth of the cave again, this time heading away from the site. The steps now carried more weight, as if carrying something it had not before.
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Gharen plunged the billet into the forge, preparing to fold it yet again. Why in the hells had she been there? On its face, the facts pointed to betrayal, he had put members of the Resistance in contact with her at her request. Now the man who had intended to meet her has gone missing, and she had been part of the group that had ambushed them at the Nanawa Mines.
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His initial response had been one of raw anger, but then he started asking questions: why had they called for everyone to halt their attack? They were expecting something, or someone else, but by the time they realized this, things had already spun out of control. Then there were the foot prints he’d found at the blast site, her people seemed every bit as taken by surprise by the sudden blast indicating that wasn’t part of their plan. A third party? Who then?
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Gharen pulled the billet out of the fire with his tongs and placed it over the anvil and began the process of hammering it over onto itself again. It was only when he saw her step into his line of sight that the echoing ringing stopped, the hammer coming to rest against the glowing metal.
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Roen Deneith stood there, dressed in plain cotton tunic and breeches, with only a dagger at her side. She was not dressed in her usual paladin armor, nor had she come as one. One hand rested on her stomach, and there was a look of nervousness as she regarded him. But despite whatever her intent may have been, Gharen could feel his rage quickly rising even at the mere sight of her. He let out a low growl and looked to the doorway behind him then back to her. A part of him expected to see armed backup waiting outside.
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“What did ye do?†He demanded, jaws squared. His words were direct, to the point, and were filled with anger. He did not wait for her to answer as he turned and plunged the billet back into the forge. Perhaps he thought that continuing to work would cease the rising fury he felt within. He gave the bellows a pump, feeling the heat growing hotter from within the forge.
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"Master Gharen. I... we did not know." Her voice was quiet. Uncertain. "Are you alright? Did the man who fell... did he live?"
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Gharen withdrew the glowing billet, setting it back on the anvil again. "He'll live, likely with a limp." His hammer struck the metal once more. He glared at her accusingly, "Nae so lucky fer th' young man with th' crushed throat."
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"We thought... we were told that..." Roen bowed her head. "We thought we were going to find terrorists." She shook her head, her expression dark with sorrow. "I did not know we would find you. And the Resistance."
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His hammer answered her with an unforgiving ringing blow. "Aye then how'd ye know?" The glowing metal spat out more sparks. "An' what of Aylard, hmm?" Another strike. "What'd ye do with him?" A part of him knew he should not be this angry, but striking the billet was all he could do to keep from exploding.
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"I..." Roen looked confused. "Aylard... Greyarm? What of--" His words and strikes came fast, and the anger that fueled them made her flinch. Â "What did I do? I... I do not understand." She blinked rapidly and gave him a look of surprise and disbelief. Â "What do you think I did?"
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The hammer struck the billet again harder than before, cutting her question off. He turned and kicked shut the thick wooden door behind him. Gods, how he wanted to yell at her. "He's missin', I put ye in contact with him… he turns up missin', an ye show up with an armed ambush." His voice was barely controlled.
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He grabbed the tongs and plunged the billet into the fires again and worked the bellows. He was keeping his hands busy else it would have shook with anger. He'd gone over the facts in his head repeatedly and suspected that her group didn't know they were running into The Resistance. Then why in the hells was he so angry at her?
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"What do you think I did... Master Gharen?" Her question came slow, and her voice shook. "What do you think me capable of?"
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Gharen stopped the bellows but his grip never left the handle. "I can tell ye what it looks like on th' surface." He took a breath. "But tha' dinnae explain th' calls te stop th' fight, which indicates tha' ye dinnae know who we were… or th' fact someone circled aroun' durin' our scuffle an' took somethin' from th' supplies before they went an' exploded." He took his tongs and moved the billet, flipping it to ensure it is heated evenly. He gave her a hard look. "So I'll ask ye again, fer yer account o' things. What did ye do?"
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"I do not know about Aylard Greyarm, Master Gharen.†She stood there, stalk still and stiff, but with her chin lifted. “He sent a boy to set up a meeting with me. But he never showed. I waited for him at Fesca's Wash. I did not know he went missing." She sighed.  "As for the mines, Natalie got a tip. About smugglers who were possibly going to sell stolen ceruleum to terrorists. We thought we were looking into see someone threatening Ul'dah. That is what we were told!†She looked to him beseechingly.
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Gharen's jaw tightened as he moved the billet again and gave the bellows another pump. His eyes looked over to meet hers. "Who then provided tha' tip? Because if'n they took what I'm fairly certain they did, we've all got a whole other problem on our hands."
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"A miqo'te. I met him once. He called himself Cicero. That day, he called himself Rose.†Roen answered earnestly. “He had contacted C'kayah for this smuggling job. So C'kayah told Natalie, who then recruited me and one other to help. We were there to make sure the ceruleum was not sold to terrorists. But after fire... Rose could not be found."
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Gharen used the tongs to pull the glowing billet from the forge. He could feel his anger slowly abating, as he started putting puzzle pieces together. This Miqo'te, Cicero, was the likely thief and source of the explosion and resulting fire. And, there were other potential players. "What do ye know o’ this Delial woman?"
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Roen blinked, clearly surprised. "Miss... Delial? I met her while I was at Little Ala Mhigo. She helped me find out more about my mother's ancestors. Why would you ask me of her?"
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Gharen's hammer struck the billet. "Because she's the only other person who knew I'd be arranging fer ye te meet with Aylard. Unless o'course ye let others know?" His movements had become more rhythmic, more controlled.
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Roen shook her head,her own voice steady. “She told me she wanted to join the Resistance. That she found her current job tiresome and meaningless. She wanted to do something that was right. Her gaze drifted to the anvil in thought. “I let her know when I was going to meet with Aylard Greyarm. I thought she could meet him for a chance to join the cause for her homeland."
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"Did ye tell her where ye'd be meeting him?"
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"I did."
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Gharen reached for a thin plate of steel and inserted it into the center of the folded billet, bringing his hammer down on it a few times to lock it into place before plunging it back into the forge. This task allowed him to think. This Highlander woman had the time and the place; another potential ambush would be simple to set up and execute especially if he'd arrived early. And only few suns ago, "Miss Delial" had sent a missive, wanting to speak to him directly.
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He looked at Roen,"I'd be wary of any information ye share with Miss Delial. I have a feelin' she's nae as trustworthy as ye might think, considerin' she's want'n te talk te me now."
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Roen stared at Gharen for a long moment. Disbelief was clear in her eyes. "She-- but...†She shook her head. “Every word she has shared with me was that of encouragement and comfort.†Silence fell between them as she considered his words. Her deep frown betrayed her conflict and reluctance to believe him. "What will you do, Master Gharen?"
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He shifted the billet in the forge, “I’ll talk to her. See what she has to say. Might see about put’n a tail on her, I’m nae sure.†He watched the metal turn bright orange with the heat. He’d long since lost count of how many folds he'd made in the beginning of this blade. This was likely going to be one of his best.
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"Also, I'd like fer ye te pass along a message." Gharen paused, turning back to Roen. He gave her a firm look, his tone darkening. "Tell tha' Miqo'te lass... Natalie was it? Tell her had it been anyone other than ye on the ground there she'd likely nae have walked away from tha’ fire let alone continued breathin' after what she did."
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Roen nodded, clearly conflicted. "I am sorry, Master Gharen. For all that happened."
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"Tis what it is." Gharen answered, resigned. His anger had completely faded. He returned to the task at hand.
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Roen regarded him for a long moment. "You thought I betrayed you," she said quietly.
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He stopped hammering the billet but his gaze didn’t leave it right away, "Initially, aye. Th' thought had crossed my mind, but th' events dinnae add up te tha', I needed te hear it come from ye te confirm tha' it was nae true."
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Roen took one step closer, despite the heated metal that hissed between them. "I would never do that. I would never betray you." She looked to him with a steady gaze, intent. "I just needed you to know that." She said quietly, stepping once more towards him.  "If you were to leave for Ala Mhigo… I did not want you to leave thinking I would do that to you."
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Gharen looked at her fora long moment then nodded. Newly arising guilt made him grip the hammer tight. "Aye lass. I thank ye," he rumbled low.
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They met each other's gaze for a moment longer, before Roen bowed. "I will leave you to your work, Master Gharen." She turned to leave, then glanced over her shoulder. "I hope you are wrong about Miss Delial."
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 Gharen kept silent on the matter of the Highlander woman, instead glancing at the cooled billet and shoving it back into the forge. He looked back to Roen, his hand on the bellows. "Aye lass. Take care o' yerself alrigh'?"
Â
Roen nodded. "Staywell, Master Gharen."
Â
He’d removed his armor and changed into something less conspicuous; to the passing observer he looked like one of the refugee miners who were attempting to douse the few remaining fires that were still going. Hauling a bucket of water, he moved to where he guessed the explosion had come from. Gharen scanned the ground; the blast had done well to cover the evidence at its epicenter. But amongst the tracks, he spotted footprints in the dust and dirt that didn’t match the more recent tracks of the miners attempting to put the fires out.
Â
Kneeling down to examine the them, Gharen could see that they were lightly made, as if someone was moving with speed and intent coming from the flanks of where their scuffle had been. He surmised them to be Miqo’te or Midlander possibly, based on the size and weight of the print, and they were heading toward the epicenter of the blast. He followed the footprints until they emerged from the mouth of the cave again, this time heading away from the site. The steps now carried more weight, as if carrying something it had not before.
Â
Gharen plunged the billet into the forge, preparing to fold it yet again. Why in the hells had she been there? On its face, the facts pointed to betrayal, he had put members of the Resistance in contact with her at her request. Now the man who had intended to meet her has gone missing, and she had been part of the group that had ambushed them at the Nanawa Mines.
Â
His initial response had been one of raw anger, but then he started asking questions: why had they called for everyone to halt their attack? They were expecting something, or someone else, but by the time they realized this, things had already spun out of control. Then there were the foot prints he’d found at the blast site, her people seemed every bit as taken by surprise by the sudden blast indicating that wasn’t part of their plan. A third party? Who then?
Â
Gharen pulled the billet out of the fire with his tongs and placed it over the anvil and began the process of hammering it over onto itself again. It was only when he saw her step into his line of sight that the echoing ringing stopped, the hammer coming to rest against the glowing metal.
Â
Roen Deneith stood there, dressed in plain cotton tunic and breeches, with only a dagger at her side. She was not dressed in her usual paladin armor, nor had she come as one. One hand rested on her stomach, and there was a look of nervousness as she regarded him. But despite whatever her intent may have been, Gharen could feel his rage quickly rising even at the mere sight of her. He let out a low growl and looked to the doorway behind him then back to her. A part of him expected to see armed backup waiting outside.
Â
“What did ye do?†He demanded, jaws squared. His words were direct, to the point, and were filled with anger. He did not wait for her to answer as he turned and plunged the billet back into the forge. Perhaps he thought that continuing to work would cease the rising fury he felt within. He gave the bellows a pump, feeling the heat growing hotter from within the forge.
Â
"Master Gharen. I... we did not know." Her voice was quiet. Uncertain. "Are you alright? Did the man who fell... did he live?"
Â
Gharen withdrew the glowing billet, setting it back on the anvil again. "He'll live, likely with a limp." His hammer struck the metal once more. He glared at her accusingly, "Nae so lucky fer th' young man with th' crushed throat."
Â
"We thought... we were told that..." Roen bowed her head. "We thought we were going to find terrorists." She shook her head, her expression dark with sorrow. "I did not know we would find you. And the Resistance."
Â
His hammer answered her with an unforgiving ringing blow. "Aye then how'd ye know?" The glowing metal spat out more sparks. "An' what of Aylard, hmm?" Another strike. "What'd ye do with him?" A part of him knew he should not be this angry, but striking the billet was all he could do to keep from exploding.
Â
"I..." Roen looked confused. "Aylard... Greyarm? What of--" His words and strikes came fast, and the anger that fueled them made her flinch. Â "What did I do? I... I do not understand." She blinked rapidly and gave him a look of surprise and disbelief. Â "What do you think I did?"
Â
The hammer struck the billet again harder than before, cutting her question off. He turned and kicked shut the thick wooden door behind him. Gods, how he wanted to yell at her. "He's missin', I put ye in contact with him… he turns up missin', an ye show up with an armed ambush." His voice was barely controlled.
Â
He grabbed the tongs and plunged the billet into the fires again and worked the bellows. He was keeping his hands busy else it would have shook with anger. He'd gone over the facts in his head repeatedly and suspected that her group didn't know they were running into The Resistance. Then why in the hells was he so angry at her?
Â
"What do you think I did... Master Gharen?" Her question came slow, and her voice shook. "What do you think me capable of?"
Â
Gharen stopped the bellows but his grip never left the handle. "I can tell ye what it looks like on th' surface." He took a breath. "But tha' dinnae explain th' calls te stop th' fight, which indicates tha' ye dinnae know who we were… or th' fact someone circled aroun' durin' our scuffle an' took somethin' from th' supplies before they went an' exploded." He took his tongs and moved the billet, flipping it to ensure it is heated evenly. He gave her a hard look. "So I'll ask ye again, fer yer account o' things. What did ye do?"
Â
"I do not know about Aylard Greyarm, Master Gharen.†She stood there, stalk still and stiff, but with her chin lifted. “He sent a boy to set up a meeting with me. But he never showed. I waited for him at Fesca's Wash. I did not know he went missing." She sighed.  "As for the mines, Natalie got a tip. About smugglers who were possibly going to sell stolen ceruleum to terrorists. We thought we were looking into see someone threatening Ul'dah. That is what we were told!†She looked to him beseechingly.
Â
Gharen's jaw tightened as he moved the billet again and gave the bellows another pump. His eyes looked over to meet hers. "Who then provided tha' tip? Because if'n they took what I'm fairly certain they did, we've all got a whole other problem on our hands."
Â
"A miqo'te. I met him once. He called himself Cicero. That day, he called himself Rose.†Roen answered earnestly. “He had contacted C'kayah for this smuggling job. So C'kayah told Natalie, who then recruited me and one other to help. We were there to make sure the ceruleum was not sold to terrorists. But after fire... Rose could not be found."
Â
Gharen used the tongs to pull the glowing billet from the forge. He could feel his anger slowly abating, as he started putting puzzle pieces together. This Miqo'te, Cicero, was the likely thief and source of the explosion and resulting fire. And, there were other potential players. "What do ye know o’ this Delial woman?"
Â
Roen blinked, clearly surprised. "Miss... Delial? I met her while I was at Little Ala Mhigo. She helped me find out more about my mother's ancestors. Why would you ask me of her?"
Â
Gharen's hammer struck the billet. "Because she's the only other person who knew I'd be arranging fer ye te meet with Aylard. Unless o'course ye let others know?" His movements had become more rhythmic, more controlled.
Â
Roen shook her head,her own voice steady. “She told me she wanted to join the Resistance. That she found her current job tiresome and meaningless. She wanted to do something that was right. Her gaze drifted to the anvil in thought. “I let her know when I was going to meet with Aylard Greyarm. I thought she could meet him for a chance to join the cause for her homeland."
Â
"Did ye tell her where ye'd be meeting him?"
Â
"I did."
Â
Gharen reached for a thin plate of steel and inserted it into the center of the folded billet, bringing his hammer down on it a few times to lock it into place before plunging it back into the forge. This task allowed him to think. This Highlander woman had the time and the place; another potential ambush would be simple to set up and execute especially if he'd arrived early. And only few suns ago, "Miss Delial" had sent a missive, wanting to speak to him directly.
Â
He looked at Roen,"I'd be wary of any information ye share with Miss Delial. I have a feelin' she's nae as trustworthy as ye might think, considerin' she's want'n te talk te me now."
Â
Roen stared at Gharen for a long moment. Disbelief was clear in her eyes. "She-- but...†She shook her head. “Every word she has shared with me was that of encouragement and comfort.†Silence fell between them as she considered his words. Her deep frown betrayed her conflict and reluctance to believe him. "What will you do, Master Gharen?"
Â
He shifted the billet in the forge, “I’ll talk to her. See what she has to say. Might see about put’n a tail on her, I’m nae sure.†He watched the metal turn bright orange with the heat. He’d long since lost count of how many folds he'd made in the beginning of this blade. This was likely going to be one of his best.
Â
"Also, I'd like fer ye te pass along a message." Gharen paused, turning back to Roen. He gave her a firm look, his tone darkening. "Tell tha' Miqo'te lass... Natalie was it? Tell her had it been anyone other than ye on the ground there she'd likely nae have walked away from tha’ fire let alone continued breathin' after what she did."
Â
Roen nodded, clearly conflicted. "I am sorry, Master Gharen. For all that happened."
Â
"Tis what it is." Gharen answered, resigned. His anger had completely faded. He returned to the task at hand.
Â
Roen regarded him for a long moment. "You thought I betrayed you," she said quietly.
Â
He stopped hammering the billet but his gaze didn’t leave it right away, "Initially, aye. Th' thought had crossed my mind, but th' events dinnae add up te tha', I needed te hear it come from ye te confirm tha' it was nae true."
Â
Roen took one step closer, despite the heated metal that hissed between them. "I would never do that. I would never betray you." She looked to him with a steady gaze, intent. "I just needed you to know that." She said quietly, stepping once more towards him.  "If you were to leave for Ala Mhigo… I did not want you to leave thinking I would do that to you."
Â
Gharen looked at her fora long moment then nodded. Newly arising guilt made him grip the hammer tight. "Aye lass. I thank ye," he rumbled low.
Â
They met each other's gaze for a moment longer, before Roen bowed. "I will leave you to your work, Master Gharen." She turned to leave, then glanced over her shoulder. "I hope you are wrong about Miss Delial."
Â
 Gharen kept silent on the matter of the Highlander woman, instead glancing at the cooled billet and shoving it back into the forge. He looked back to Roen, his hand on the bellows. "Aye lass. Take care o' yerself alrigh'?"
Â
Roen nodded. "Staywell, Master Gharen."
