The next few days passed uneventfully. Classes were going well, and Cane divided his time between Sophie and the smithy, working with Jonas just like he had since the first time he'd picked up a hammer.
With two days off and no training scheduled by Elohan, the team decided to visit the capital, enjoying some well-earned leisure time after the recent mission.
Relen and the estate staff were waiting when the rift opened early the next morning. Though many arrived, the special welcome was clearly for Cane and his group.
"Young Master," Relen greeted with a respectful bow. "We've prepared breakfast before your meeting with the Artisan Guild. There's also a special dinner presentation tonight."
Cane smiled. "Looking forward to it. How's your family settling in?"
"My wife loves the cottage, young Master. And my daughter—she gets into everything." Relen sighed with a weary sort of fondness. "I try to keep her out of the main buildings."
Cane chuckled. "Let her explore. These grounds could use some excitement. This is her home—not just the place her father works."
Relen nodded, visibly touched. "I believe your friend Nina is arriving this morning."
"Good." Cane turned slightly. "Relen, this is my mentor and close friend, Jonas Ironfist. Treat him like my much older brother."
Relen smiled politely. "Of course. Welcome, Mr. Jonas."
"Just Jonas. I'm a blacksmith, not a gentleman." Jonas glanced around, taking everything in until his eyes locked on the estate smithy. Without a word, he started walking toward it.
"Don't even think about it," Cane said, falling in step. "I already gave you my other smithy."
Jonas raised a brow. "Why 'much older' brother?"
Cane deadpanned. "Because you are."
"Ten years, give or take," Jonas grumbled.
"Exactly."
Cane led him to the estate forge, already stocked with rare alloy bins and pristine tools.
Jonas whistled softly. "Your alloy work as a metallurgist is incredible." He sifted through the bins, running his fingers across carefully labeled metals. His attention suddenly shifted. "What is that?"
Cane followed his gaze to the hulking war dog lounging near the door. "That's Spud. Moriwynn brought him in. He kind of… protects the place."
Jonas crouched slightly and held out a hand. Spud padded over, sniffed, then accepted a pat on the head. "He's the size of a pony."
"I wouldn't recommend riding him. Come on, breakfast is waiting." Cane tugged his mentor away from the forge.
They found Clara already at the table, practically glowing.
"My mum brought me here once to get these," she said, eyes fixed on the plate. "They're so good."
Cane took a breath—thin cakes with strawberries and cream, lightly sweetened and warm. "They outdid themselves."
He slid into a seat beside Sophie. "What's your plan today?"
"Nina's coming by. My mum has a few more dresses heading to auction." Sophie smiled. "She'll be glad to see you."
"I see your mum all the time."
"No, I meant Nina." Sophie gave him a knowing nudge.
Jonas picked up on the tone. "She's the one from the Olivara Auction House?"
Sophie nodded. "Back when Cane first arrived, she was just an assistant. Now she's head of special services."
She didn't say it, but everyone knew Cane's refusal to work with anyone but Nina had directly influenced her rise.
Nina arrived shortly after breakfast, greeting Cane with a warm handshake before hugging Sophie. "It's nice to see everyone. I hear the lot of you are being knighted at the autumn banquet next week."
"Not me," Cane replied, though he planned to be there to support the others. "What do you know about the Artisan Guild?"
"They can be a bit… difficult," Nina said diplomatically. "Why do you ask?"
Cane explained the situation—Jonas's upgrade, the meeting ahead.
"In your case, I doubt they'll do anything but nod and say thank you." She turned to Jonas with a warm smile. "Not going to introduce me to your handsome friend?"
"I don't have any handsome friends."
"HEY!" Fergis protested from the far end of the table.
Cane chuckled. "Nina, this is Jonas. Mentor and 'much older' brother figure."
Nina smiled brightly. "He doesn't look much older."
Jonas grinned. "See? That's what I've been saying."
"I'm visiting my parents later if you want to come." Fergis lingered nearby as Jonas and Cane waited for the stablemen to prepare their coach.
"Is this your odd way of inviting me without actually saying so?"
Fergis nodded. "You picked up on that—good."
"Subtle," Cane added, giving Jonas a sideways glance. "What are you doing today?"
"Going to break that smithy of yours in properly," Jonas announced.
Cane snorted. "It's already broken in—but help yourself."
They boarded the coach, taking in the view as the capital slowly came to life. The ride was short; the estate sat near the edge of the merchant district. In Arisia, merchants never lived above their shops. The second floor of each building was reserved for elite customers—where nobles and royalty waited while their orders were seen to.
Jonas gave a low whistle at the sight of the Arisian Guild. It spanned three city lots and rose four stories tall, built from solid brick. A golden fountain out front sprayed high into the air, featuring two mermaids with exaggerated proportions.
"Mermaids really look like that?" Jonas asked, eyeing the statues.
Cane shook his head. "No. In human form, they look like anyone else. Otherwise… well, the tail's the only real difference."
"I shouldn't be surprised you know a mermaid," Jonas said dryly.
"Two, actually. Neri's the one I escaped the slavers with. Her half-sister teaches at the Academy."
Before Jonas could respond, he frowned. "What's going on here?"
A small group of men stood in front of the guild's entrance—older, refined, not the sort to be seeking evaluation.
Cane stepped off the coach onto the red cobbled path just as two of the men hurried forward.
"Sir Cane!" The older one bowed low. "Rolon Yensi, President of the Artisan Guild. This is my colleague, Moris Fel. Welcome."
Cane returned a modest bow. "Just Cane is fine. A pleasure to meet you both. May I introduce my master—Jonas Ironfist."
Jonas gave him a side glance at the formality. "Pleasure, gentlemen."
"Jonas has been at craftsman level for years," Cane continued. "He personally taught me everything I know about smithing. He's here for his official badge."
Rolon's eyes widened. "He's your teacher? Well—of course, of course."
"Small problem with the paperwork. We were attacked by slavers on the way here and separated. His credentials… are likely lost at sea."
Rolon waved it off. "No matter. We're honored you came, Master Jonas."
Jonas cleared his throat. "Still recovering, but thank you. I'd be interested in a tour."
Rolon and Moris both lit up at that. Cane sighed silently.
"We'd be happy to show you around," Rolon beamed. "It really is something special."
Jonas ignored Cane's glance. "Also, my first act will be to promote Cane to journeyman—though truth be told, his work exceeds anything I've ever seen."
Moris nodded and stepped away, returning moments later. "We'll have both badges prepared during the tour."
They began at the top and worked their way down. The fourth floor housed artists with no clear niche—glassblowers, sculptors, carvers.
Each time Cane complimented something, the artist would immediately offer it to him, refusing payment and smiling like they'd won a contest.
Cane didn't notice, but Jonas did. His apprentice had become an important figure despite his youth. To be acknowledged by him was more than praise—it was validation.
The third floor was for merchants. Both men feigned interest and smiled politely, though neither lingered.
It was the second floor that held their attention. This was where the blacksmiths displayed their craft. Aproned men and women stood at their tables, straightening as Cane approached. Their eyes lit up when they heard Jonas was his master.
Cane took his time, complimenting and critiquing with equal care. One table caught his eye—a lump of blue-silver metal resting in the center.
Even without touching it, he sensed the unique fusion of crystal and metal. "This is beautiful. What kind of crystal?"
A middle-aged man answered. "Found it in an active crater—kyanite and silver."
Behind him stood a younger woman with dark features, hiding beneath an oversized hood.
"What do you plan to do with it?" Cane asked.
"No idea. It's unworkable. The fusion is brittle—shatters easily."
"Could you do something with it?" the hooded girl asked quietly.
Cane recognized the melodic tone—merfolk blood. "I could."
"Soriah… We can't ask Sir Cane—" the man started, flinching under Rolon and Moris's glare.
"I'd love to," Cane said gently.
He reached out with the ringworld, letting all three aspects rise. The air brightened with starlight, and silence fell as they watched, awestruck.
The guild faded from view. Cane stood surrounded by molten rock, fire licking a glowing blue crystal. A low hum vibrated in protest as the heat consumed it. One fragment remained, fused with silver, stubbornly clinging to shape.
That vision faded, replaced by a peaceful sea of silver and blue—fluid and serene, like fish darting through shallows. Cane remembered the mermaids at the fountain. He began to shape the metal.
He purified it first, then shaped it into a single cresting wave. A mermaid danced atop it—joyful, free—her form unmistakably Neri's.
When he was done, the world stilled.
No one spoke. The silence stretched, breathless and wide-eyed.