Chapter 36

The locksmith was a smaller shop, nameless, yet labelled with a simple lock painted on a plaque of hanging wood. It was tucked into a shaded corner only accessible via a tight alleyway. If Maria hadn't been there before, the group would have been aimlessly lost in the older patch of town, a portion piled with quaint hutted shops and houses infested by an unruly swath of flowering vines that snaked through the old stone walls.

The crowds of shopping students was dead in the cracked streets, a few clean dressed loiterers that called the town their home barely paying the group the small price of a couple stares. Intrigued, yet ignoring the earthly fabrics Ronan was flaunting.

As soon as they entered the shop, the muggy heat of the outdoors dried out, and the subtle smell of flowers lingered in the small space. The shopkeeper popped his head up at the faint jingle of bells, carefully sheathing the knife he'd been sharpening and placing it in a drawer behind his counter. With a wave of cal
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