I trained as a Smith when I was young. It was an honorable profession, handed down to us by our father. He had a Smith’s magic, which we inherited, but we were different, as he married an Elven mage.

I was restless, a wanderer, and spent more than two decades traveling the Worlds. In a tavern one night in the Great Marketplace at the Crossroads of the Worlds, a merchant put up his stall in the Market as stakes in a card game. I wanted that particular stall—and its forge—very badly, so I cheated and won. I never felt guilty. If you’re a fool, with a weakness for drink, sooner or later someone will take advantage of you. Just as a warning, don’t gamble with a mage.