"You can actually tell just by looking at it that it's galathrium?" Quinn asked, his voice laced with a genuine touch of surprise.
"Well, yeah, of course I can," the tall girl shrugged casually, adjusting her stance. "I'm a forger by trade."
Looking her up and down properly for the first time, it only then dawned on Layla and Quinn that the girl was wearing a heavy, soot-stained blacksmith's apron over her clothes. Furthermore, she sported a tiny, distinct logo embroidered onto the front—an image of a clenched fist positioned right in front of a hammer that was entirely engulfed in flames.
'Where on earth have I seen that specific symbol before?' Quinn thought to himself, wrinkling his brow as he racked his brain to trigger the memory.
