Master Gregor Halford

Master Gregor Halford was not a man of noble birth, nor did he hold titles or lands, yet in the Dukedom of Virensha, his name was spoken with admiration and respect. He was the finest blacksmith in the region, a master of his craft whose blades had armed the soldiers of Virensha for decades. Lords and knights sought his steel, merchants paid handsomely for his wares, and even common folk who could afford one of his tools or horseshoes counted themselves lucky.   He did not forge weapons for imperial legions, nor did his name carry weight beyond Virensha’s borders, but within the dukedom, he was a legend in his own right—a man whose hammer had shaped the arms of Virensha’s defenders and whose skill had become the lifeblood of its warriors.   When Duke Samuel Greeve invited him to the fateful banquet, it was not as a mere tradesman but as an honored guest—a recognition of his invaluable contributions to Virensha’s strength and prosperity. Yet, what should have been a night of celebration became a night of horror, and Master Gregor Halford’s name was added to the long list of those slain in the treacherous massacre.   A Stalwart Figure of the Forge Gregor was built like an anvil—broad-shouldered, thick-armed, and strong as the iron he worked. The years at the forge had shaped his body into one of raw endurance, every muscle honed through countless hours of hammering and shaping molten metal. He stood slightly taller than most, his frame carrying the weight of a man who had never known an idle day.   His jaw was square and set with the determination of a man who believed in honest labor, his brown hair cropped short to keep from singeing in the heat of his forge. His skin, perpetually kissed by fire and smoke, bore the telltale signs of a blacksmith’s life—small burns, calloused hands, and arms thick with the scars of a craftsman’s trade. His dark eyes, though often serious, held a spark of warmth, especially when he spoke of his work or shared a quiet drink with those he trusted.   Unlike many of the noblemen he had served, Gregor did not stand on ceremony. His respect was given not to titles, but to those who earned it through skill, loyalty, and hard work.   A Man of Few Words, But Unshakable Integrity   Gregor Halford had never been a man of politics, nor did he waste words on idle flattery. He was direct, sometimes gruff, but always honest. He believed in the value of one’s work, in the simple truth that a blade was either strong or weak, just as a man was either trustworthy or not.   Despite his pragmatic nature, those who knew him well understood that his gruffness masked a deep loyalty to those he called friends. He had little patience for deception, but he had an even deeper distaste for injustice. He had been known to quietly repair a widow’s tools free of charge or slip a sturdy dagger into the hands of a young soldier too poor to afford a fine weapon.   He had no noble heritage, no great wealth, yet his presence was one of quiet authority. When Gregor Halford spoke, men listened.   Dressed for Work, Honored at the Banquet   At the banquet that would become his final night, Gregor had set aside his workman’s apron for something more fitting of the occasion. He wore a dark brown tunic with subtle bronze embroidery—a nod to the metal he shaped daily. His black trousers were of finer make than his usual garb, though still practical, and his boots, while sturdy, had been polished for the night. Around his waist, he wore a leather belt with ornamental smithing tools—a symbol of his craft rather than a necessity.   He had felt slightly out of place among the finely dressed nobles, but Duke Greeve himself had welcomed him as an honored guest, recognizing his contributions to the dukedom’s strength. It was not Gregor’s way to seek recognition, but he had accepted the invitation with quiet gratitude.   Betrayed in the House of Lords   When the assassins struck, Gregor Halford was no soldier, but he was no stranger to violence. He had fought before—not on the battlefield, but in brawls and skirmishes common among those who worked with rough men and dangerous tools. He was no fencer, no duelist, but he knew how to use his strength.   As the massacre erupted around him, Gregor did not hesitate. He overturned a banquet table to shield the young and unarmed, gripping a discarded dagger with steady hands. He struck down one of the masked attackers, driving the blade into the man’s throat with a smith’s unerring precision.   But the assassins were too many, and their cruelty knew no bounds. When the ape demon was summoned into the hall, Gregor found himself against a force he could not match. It crashed through the chaos, its monstrous limbs swinging wildly, and when it reached him, there was nothing he could do.   A single blow sent him sprawling across the blood-slicked floor. Bones cracked, pain flooded his senses, and in his final moments, he saw the banquet hall—the shattered remnants of Virensha’s nobility, the bloodied faces of those he had once shared drinks with, and the Duke’s lifeless body among them.   Then, all was darkness.   A Legacy Forged in Iron   The death of Gregor Halford was not one that shook the empire, but in Virensha, his loss was felt deeply. His forge, once filled with the steady rhythm of hammer on steel, now stood silent. His apprentices, many of whom had been trained under his careful hand, now bore the weight of continuing his legacy.   For the soldiers and knights who had wielded his blades, there was a quiet grief—an understanding that the man who had armed them, who had worked tirelessly to ensure they had the best steel Virensha could offer, was gone.   A small plaque was later placed outside his smithy, a simple engraving that read:   "He forged with skill, he lived with honor, he fell with courage."   Though he was not a noble, though his name would not be recorded in imperial histories, Master Gregor Halford’s legacy lived on in the weapons he made, in the warriors who carried them, and in the people of Virensha who remembered the man who had given his life among the lords he had once served.