The City of Diener lay still and quiet beneath an ebony sky, wisps of smoke trailing up toward the stars that glinted overhead. A multitude of buildings huddle behind the safety of high walls, graduating in size and grandeur the deeper one travels into the city. Lone sentries patrol atop the walls, their breath carried away from them in faint clouds of mist, bundled against the chill of the night. While fires burn within braziers upon the battlements, the city below lies in darkness, its citizens tucked snuggling within their beds, unaware of what was soon to come.
~~~~~
A soft, warm light illuminated the small room, casting long shadows upon the walls which jumped and stuttered as the candle's flame flickered in the faint breeze. In the corner of the room, settled upon a single bed crafted from ageing and scuffed wood, sat a young woman in her nightshirt, a book resting comfortably in her lap. Long strands of fiery red hair tumbles wild and free about her shoulders, brow furrowed in conversation as her eyes scan the lines of text before her.
Below she could hear her father working in the smithy that took up the first floor of the building, the heavy clang of hammer against anvil filling the still night air with a rhythmic twang. Fia had long since learnt to sleep through such a familiar sound, yet for some reason it eluded her tonight; her mind restless. With a sigh she set her book aside and rose to her feet, wrapping her blanket around her as she padded across the floor and to her partially opened door.
The rest of the house lay empty and quiet. Her mother had passed some years ago, yet still the young woman could feel her absence, an emptiness that she doubted would ever pass and perhaps fuelled her father's long work hours. Slipping out into the hallway, Fia eased open the door that acted as entrance to the living quarters and cautious inched half way down the stairway that led to the forge below. Sitting upon a step, huddled beneath her blanket, she lay her head against the railing and watched her father work.
The warmth from the furnace chased away the cool night air, despite the open front of the forge, embers burning brightly in the dim light. Clang, clang, clang. Her father turned the piece of metal he was working on and set it back to the anvil. Clang, clang, hiss. The metal glowed red amidst the embers as all fell quiet again, the sound a dog howling in the distance echoing through the streets.
Fia's eyelids grew heavy as she watched her father force the piece of metal into shape with well-practised care.
~~~~~
A soft, warm light illuminated the small room, casting long shadows upon the walls which jumped and stuttered as the candle's flame flickered in the faint breeze. In the corner of the room, settled upon a single bed crafted from ageing and scuffed wood, sat a young woman in her nightshirt, a book resting comfortably in her lap. Long strands of fiery red hair tumbles wild and free about her shoulders, brow furrowed in conversation as her eyes scan the lines of text before her.
Below she could hear her father working in the smithy that took up the first floor of the building, the heavy clang of hammer against anvil filling the still night air with a rhythmic twang. Fia had long since learnt to sleep through such a familiar sound, yet for some reason it eluded her tonight; her mind restless. With a sigh she set her book aside and rose to her feet, wrapping her blanket around her as she padded across the floor and to her partially opened door.
The rest of the house lay empty and quiet. Her mother had passed some years ago, yet still the young woman could feel her absence, an emptiness that she doubted would ever pass and perhaps fuelled her father's long work hours. Slipping out into the hallway, Fia eased open the door that acted as entrance to the living quarters and cautious inched half way down the stairway that led to the forge below. Sitting upon a step, huddled beneath her blanket, she lay her head against the railing and watched her father work.
The warmth from the furnace chased away the cool night air, despite the open front of the forge, embers burning brightly in the dim light. Clang, clang, clang. Her father turned the piece of metal he was working on and set it back to the anvil. Clang, clang, hiss. The metal glowed red amidst the embers as all fell quiet again, the sound a dog howling in the distance echoing through the streets.
Fia's eyelids grew heavy as she watched her father force the piece of metal into shape with well-practised care.