CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fred Gorman nearly wept when Thomas entered his shop, the latter’s garb and hammer seeming to ring the proverbial bell as if reinforcements had finally arrived. The Oakville smith looked as if he’d not slept for weeks, his hair looking wild, as if he’d encountered a ghost or banshee in recent days.
“You’re not wearing bracers of the Queen’s men, so I’m guessing you’re a village smith from a nearby region,” Fred said before smiling and nodding his head towards Thomas.
“I grew up well north of here before spending the last few months smithing in Glenwood. Been looking for… a change of scenery, I guess.” Thomas then took a moment scanning the assorted arms and armor hanging on the walls of Fred’s shop.
“My preferred art medium, you might say,” Fred remarked as he too sca
