Frosted Iron

”I know, it sounds... cliche and unbelievable, all at once.” Caiside shook his head, letting tension build before he answered Jiganos question. ”It took months. We were far east, and clear across the heartwoods. We knew it would be perilous, at least if we wanted to move with any speed, but... really, it was the strangest thing. The woods were silent as we moved through them. It was as if any living thing hiding in them was giving us a wide berth.” It was yet another thing that should have been a red flag, but at the time had just seemed convenient. ”Then, as we crossed into the northern territories, it was as if people had been waiting for us. He was recognized almost immediately, and we were led, by an ever increasing crowd, to the halls of the Wolf King.” Caiside paused again, letting the drama of the moment sink in. ”Reithdur was nearly the spitting image of the king, the lineage undeniable to everyone assembled.” A bright laugh left Caiside at the mention of hard to believe. It seemed there was little in either of their pasta that would be easy to believe, and yet he found himself getting sucked in by the promise just the same. Everything the bard described was fantastical, begging to be explained, to be questioned. ”So... were the people you traveled with from this crash landed vessel?” He was trying to make connections, and could only hope they were close to right. Caiside loved being right. Golden eyes watched closely as Jigano adjusted his technique, his own hands pausing until the other could catch up. Not that what they were doing at the moment was particularly hard. Heat, hammer, quench. Over and over. At least it was simple enough that they could focus on the stories but being shared. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;