The shop we sought lay tucked away in a quieter corner of the market, a modest little building with a simple wooden sign, carved and painted with a careful hand. Simian’s Crafts. The letters were faded, bearing the marks of years under sun and rain, yet there was an undeniable elegance in their careful curves and lines. Josar pushed open the door, the soft jingle of a bell announcing our arrival, and stepped inside.


The air was warm and thick with the scent of metal, leather, and wood—a blend of materials that bore the unmistakable mark of a craftsman’s touch. The space was small and cluttered, yet not untidy. Tools lay scattered across tables, half-finished pieces gleamed in the morning light, and every surface seemed to tell a story of projects left mid-breath, awaiting their final shape.


Behind a broad workbench stood a man, his figure large and imposing, his presence filling the room even before he looked up. He was built like a mountain, with shoulders as broad as the doorframe and hands that seemed almost too large for the delicate work surrounding him. His skin was the color of well-worn leather, sun-kissed and weathered, and his hair was a deep, russet red, streaked with hints of silver. His eyes, when they met mine, were a rich, earthy green, steady and warm as they held my gaze.


“Morning, Simian,” Josar greeted him with a casual nod. “I’ve got a friend here who needs a chain for her locket. Think you could help?”


I felt a sudden, unexpected shyness in the face of his quiet intensity. He didn’t speak right away, merely taking me in with a calm, assessing look, as if he were measuring the weight of my presence, the purpose of my visit. Finally, he gave a small nod, his expression softening into something like a smile.


“Of course,” he said, his voice a low rumble, each word unhurried, deliberate. “What can I help with?”


I hesitated, glancing around the room before managing a small nod. “… I need a chain. Something simple, but sturdy. For a locket,” I added, holding it up as a faint warmth crept into my cheeks. His gaze shifted to the locket, his eyes sharpening with interest as he studied it, his focus so intense it felt as though he were reading secrets from the very metal itself.


“A fine piece,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if speaking to the locket rather than to me. He looked back up, his expression thoughtful. “I think I have just the thing. Wait here.”


Josar watches everything and leans against the workbench, watching with a soft smile. “Simian here is quite the artisan,” he remarked, a note of pride threading through his voice. “He’s makes everything from jewelry to furniture. Though he’ll never admit it, he’s the best in town.”


Simian chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s my loudest fan,” he said dryly, though his gaze softened. “But I do all right.”


With that, he turned to one of the shelves lining the wall, his hands moving with the practiced ease of a man who knew every inch of his workspace by heart. He sifted through small boxes, muttering to himself as he sorted through chains of various lengths and thicknesses. I watched in silence, captivated by the quiet rhythm of his movements, the way his large hands handled each delicate chain with a gentleness that belied their strength.


After a few moments, he returned with a slender copper chain, its links finely crafted and gleaming faintly in the dim light. He held it up, letting it catch the light, his gaze shifting between the chain and my face.


“Try this,” he said simply, holding it out to me.


I reached out, my fingers brushing against his as I took the chain, feeling the cool weight of it settle into my palm. It was beautiful, each link smooth and perfectly formed, and as I ran my thumb over it, I could feel the quality, the craftsmanship in every detail. It was a chain made to last, I realized, a piece that would hold my locket with the same quiet strength that Simian himself seemed to carry.


"This works!" I told him.


Simian nodded, a flicker of approval in his gaze. “A fine choice. Let’s get it set for you.” He took the locket and began attaching the chain with practiced ease, his fingers steady and sure.


When he handed the locket back to me, the chain felt solid, reassuring against my palm. I slipped it around my neck, letting it settle against my skin. The weight was comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected.


“It’s perfect,” I whispered, feeling a knot loosen somewhere inside me.


I pulled out some coppers and a three silvers and handed it to him. He seemed grateful he was getting much than what the chain had cost.


My cheeks flushed, warmth rising unbidden, and I stammered a quiet thanks again.


We said our farwell to Simian before we left his shop. Outside, the morning light had brightened, filling the market with a gentle, hazy glow. As we walked back to the main street, Josar’s easy smile made my spirits high.


“So, what’s next on your grand list of errands?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.


I chuckled softly, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “Just a few supplies for the inn. Nothing too exciting.”


“Well,” he said, flashing a grin, “maybe next time I’ll take you on the full tour. There are plenty of secrets in this town—stories, if you know where to look.”


"Maybe," I laughed.


As we reached the edge of the market, he paused, giving me a mock salute, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Until next time, Fauna.”


“Until then, Josar,” I replied, barely managing to keep the smile from my lips as he turned and walked away.