Jasmine had not seen the blacksmith Johannes for a long time. Looking at him now, she found that the other party seemed to have aged a great deal. Most of the hair on his head had become mottled with gray, and even his voice carried an unconcealable weariness. His eyes no longer held the sharpness and focus of a skilled blacksmith; instead, they were clouded by a layer of anxiety.
"Reporting to Milady, we brought this from home." Johannes bowed his head slightly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the dry firewood, completely unlike his former self who dared to look straight at Jasmine and speak with resounding confidence.
