It Was Good

They turned down the narrow cobblestone lane, the atmosphere growing quiet and still.

The buildings here were older, carrying the soot and character of early industrial Helmarte. Ernest pointed out various landmarks from his youth: a retired tool merchant's shop where he had purchased his first set of steel files at twelve, an old water pump that used to freeze every winter, and the small bakery where Hollen used to buy morning rolls.

At the end of the alley stood a low, heavy masonry building with a high brick chimney and a slate-tiled roof. A weathered wooden sign still hung above the iron-reinforced door: HOLLEN IRONWORKS.

Eleanor stood before the threshold, looking up at the modest façade. "This is where it all started?"

"This was the entire enterprise," Ernest said.

He reached into his inner coat pocket and retrieved a heavy iron key.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "You still carry a key to an abandoned forge?"