As a pleasant shift, Baker’s Court smelled marvelous and set her stomach to rumbling.
“The street of steel?” she asked aloud when they passed the sign for it. “What is that?”
Several recruits around her, all huffing for breath, shushed her. Behind her, Wesson’s voice came soft and gasping. “Metal workers. Mostly blacksmiths. A goldsmith. Handful of weaponsmiths. Rumor is. One of them. Also does. Shields. Not sure. I believe it. Though. How could. One smith. Come up with. Enough metal. For. A shield?”
Taliesimon shrugged as she jogged. It all seemed so abstract. So fantastical. The idea that people actually used fire and stone hammers to shape metal? It had to be fantasy, didn’t it? How would they even find the metal for it? In all her life, she’d never seen so much as a scrap of actual
