The young woman crossed her arms tightly across her chest, irritation written clearly across her face. This entire alley felt beneath her. The buildings were old and weathered, the street narrow and poorly lit—nothing like the grand, polished avenues and luxurious shops she was accustomed to.
Still, she followed her fiancé inside. Once something sparked his curiosity, changing his mind was nearly impossible. It was like trying to redirect a rushing river with bare hands.
A soft chime rang out as the door opened. Warm lantern light washed over them, carrying the faint, comforting scent of aged wood, machine oil, and polished metal. It smelled like an honest workshop, the kind where craftsmen spent long hours shaping things with patient, skilled hands.
Weapons lined the walls in orderly rows—swords, spears, daggers, sabers. Some looked decent enough. Most didn't. Nothing immediately stood out as special.
