Chittera Province

Cleora blinked, caught off guard by the ambition in his tone. "A forge of that scale?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "Jolthar, that's not a small undertaking. It would require skilled professionals, a large workforce, and an enormous amount of gold to fund it. Where do you expect to find the resources for such an endeavour?"

Jolthar's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "I have a plan," he said cryptically, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

Cleora tilted her head slightly, curiosity evident in her eyes. "And what, pray tell, is this plan of yours?"

Before Jolthar could elaborate, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the compartment.

A moment later, Roblan burst into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

"Mother! Mother!" he called, his voice trembling.

Cleora immediately stood, her calm demeanour replaced by concern. "Roblan, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked, moving toward her son.