"Don't say that," Berlion whispered, his brief words slipping out.
The young blacksmith was quiet and sparing with his words, spending most of his time immersed in his work without a sound. If there wasn't any work, he would just sit on the chair in the corner, staring at the furnace.
"There is no need to be modest. Excessive modesty is a form of arrogance. With your skills, if you went to Sea Blue, you could have orders lined up until next year," Winters said casually. "I still don't know where your hometown is? Berlion."
"To the north."
"The Empire?"
"Yes."
"Where in the Empire?"
The young blacksmith raised his head to meet Winters's gaze for a moment before quickly lowering it again: "Solingen."
"You are from Steel Castle? Little Berlion, I had no idea!" exclaimed the old blacksmith, surprised. "No wonder your craftsmanship is so good, coming from the famed blacksmiths of Steel Castle."