Lyra wiped her mouth gently, the warm glow of the dining hall lamps reflecting off her silver eyes.
"So, Master," she began, leaning slightly over the table, "let's put that aside for now. If… we… stay here, the wait will be long. To craft the sword you want—something powerful—even if the dwarves give it everything they have, it will still take at least ten days."
She paused, her expression turning serious.
"And we cannot afford to waste more time."
Nolan raised a brow.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, Master. I am," Lyra replied firmly, her tail flicking behind her.
Nolan nodded slowly.
"Alright. Good. Then here's the plan: I'll send Damian to the mountain to retrieve the Chimera head. He'll bring the scale to them as well. By tomorrow… we leave this place and head straight to the Elf Tribe Kingdom."
Lyra smiled softly.
"Yes, Master. That would be better. That would be great."
Damian shot up slightly from his chair, fists clenched in excitement.
