They passed through part of the town, crossed the second of the stone bridges, and approached one of the few clusters of permanent structures, which lay roughly in the middle of the part of town on the far side of the river. Pran led Doc and Ralph directly to a whitewashed stone building which had black smoke wafting from both of its two chimneys. It was clearly a blacksmith’s shop.
Dismounting, Pran was about to show Ralph and Doc how to tie the horses up to a nearby hitching post before they entered the shop, but raised an eyebrow in mild surprise when he noticed that they obviously knew how to do so already. He said nothing, but led the way.
Once inside, Ralph was set to explore the wares hanging from the ceiling and walls, his face full of longing for the craft he loved, but Pran and Doc exchanged a wry look and steered him to the business at hand. The three almost bumped into a middle-aged, caped fellow, his hooded features averted. They scarcely registered the fellow’s presence, noticing only fleetingly that his attention was absorbed in some item which did not concern them. Politely, they walked around him.
The shop was owned and run by three brothers. They were Dwarves. When the largest of the three spotted Pran, his beard was split by a wide grin. To Doc and Ralph’s surprise, he bowed, as though such a thing came perfectly natural to him.