Chapter 47 Gearing Up for the Far North

### Chapter 47: Gearing Up for the Far North

The crisp morning air of Salevo carried a sense of urgency as Trill, Bren, and Lyra set out to prepare for their journey north. Despite the city's bustling energy, their thoughts were weighed down by the growing complexity of their mission. Malgrin's reach extended further than they had anticipated, and they needed every advantage they could muster for the treacherous journey ahead.

---

Trill's first stop was a renowned blacksmith, a massive stone workshop nestled in the heart of the crafting district. The air inside was thick with the metallic tang of molten steel and the rhythmic clang of hammers.

A burly blacksmith with arms like tree trunks greeted them, his gruff voice booming. "What can I do for you?"

Trill stepped forward, laying his sword on the counter. "I need this reforged, stronger than before. And I'll need armor that offers protection without hindering mobility."

The blacksmith studied the weapon, his eyes gleaming with approval. "This is good work already, but I can make it better. As for the armor, I have just the thing—light yet reinforced with enchanted plating. You'll move like the wind but withstand a dragon's claw."

Trill nodded, his gaze steady. "How long?"

"By sunset," the blacksmith said confidently.

As the deal was struck, Bren wandered to the shop's display of enchanted gear. Her eyes landed on a beautifully engraved map case. The intricate etchings hinted at protective magic, a valuable asset for their expedition.

"How much for this?" she asked, lifting the case.

The blacksmith gave her a shrewd look. "That's no ordinary case. Keeps maps protected from fire, water, and time. Two hundred gold."

Bren raised a brow but handed over the coins without argument. As she slung the case over her shoulder, she caught Trill's approving glance.

---

Lyra, meanwhile, had taken a detour to the city's stables. The stablemaster, a lean elf with sharp features, greeted her warmly.

"I'm looking for mounts capable of handling the northern terrain," Lyra said. "Something strong, fast, and reliable."

The stablemaster led her to a pen containing a pair of massive, fur-covered creatures with powerful legs and curved horns.

"Mountain dire rams," he explained. "Built for icy slopes and rough trails. They're expensive, but nothing better for what you're planning."

Lyra inspected the beasts, running her hand along their thick fur. "How much?"

"Three hundred gold each," the stablemaster replied.

Lyra smirked, crossing her arms. "Two hundred each, and I'll throw in a favor from the Blade Breakers Guild."

The elf hesitated but ultimately agreed. Lyra handed over the gold and arranged for the mounts to be delivered to their inn.

---

Back at the inn, Trill was approached by a familiar face. One of the street kids from the little thieves' guild stood by the door, fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?" Trill asked, kneeling to the child's level.

"We found something," the child whispered, glancing around. "Information about Malgrin. One of his allies is meeting someone in the north. A merchant. Big deal."

Trill's expression hardened. "Where did you hear this?"

"Rumors in the undercity," the child said. "They say it's happening near Icehowl Pass."

Trill handed the child a small pouch of coins. "Good work. Tell your boss I'll remember this."

The child nodded and darted off into the crowd.

---

Later that afternoon, Ares arrived at the inn, his presence as commanding as ever. He carried a weathered satchel, its contents rustling as he set it on the table.

"I hear you're heading north," Ares said, his tone neutral.

"We are," Trill replied. "And I'm guessing you want to come along."

Ares gave a slight smirk. "You're sharp. The Ashura have business in the north as well, and your group could use someone who knows the terrain."

"Do you know about Icehowl Pass?" Trill asked.

Ares's smirk faded, replaced by a serious expression. "I do. It's a treacherous route, but if Malgrin's forces are meeting there, we can't ignore it."

"Then you're in," Trill said, extending a hand.

Ares hesitated but ultimately shook it.

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Vas A. Belich arrived at the inn, his fine clothes contrasting sharply with the rugged adventurers. He carried a rolled parchment and a satchel jingling with coins.

"Trill," Vas said warmly. "I've been looking for you."

"Vas," Trill greeted him. "What brings you here?"

Vas unrolled the parchment, revealing a formal contract. "My father's fortress lies to the north, and I need an escort. Your guild's reputation precedes you, and I trust you to get me there safely."

"And the pay?" Lyra asked, stepping forward.

"Generous," Vas assured her. "Five hundred gold upfront, with an additional five hundred upon arrival."

"Why the fortress?" Bren asked, her tone skeptical.

Vas hesitated, his confidence faltering. "There's unrest in the region, and I need to secure my family's holdings. It's… complicated."

Trill studied Vas for a moment before nodding. "We'll take the job. But understand, our mission comes first."

"Understood," Vas said, relief evident in his expression.

---

As the group gathered their supplies and prepared for departure, the weight of their journey loomed over them. The far north promised danger, but also answers. Trill adjusted his new armor, feeling its enchanted plating hum with energy. Bren secured the map case at her side, her determination shining in her eyes. Lyra tended to the dire rams, their breath visible in the cool night air.

Ares stood off to the side, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. "The north doesn't forgive weakness," he said. "Are you all ready for what's coming?"

Trill met his gaze. "We've faced worse. And we'll face it again if we have to."

With that, they set off, their party larger and their resolve stronger. The mountains awaited, their secrets shrouded in ice and shadow.