The darkness in Eni's eyes slowly dissolved, giving way to a soft, amber glow. She found herself lying on a bed covered in a coarse but clean fabric. Her head no longer spun, and the spasms in her stomach had vanished—her body felt strangely light, as if filled with warmth. From below came the rhythmic, heavy ring of a hammer against an anvil, accompanied by a booming, resonant bass singing in an unfamiliar tongue:

  "...Here we forge with all our might, and the battle waits ahead. Stalker chose a brand new diva, to the scouting he is led..."

  Eni rose cautiously. The wooden stairs creaked under her weight, the heat growing more noticeable with every step. Descending into a spacious hall that served as both a living area and a workshop, she froze. Before the forge stood a giant. Standing nearly three meters tall and encased in polished, gleaming armor, he looked like a living mountain of metal. Despite his enormous size, he moved with startling precision, meticulously forging some detail.

  Noticing his guest, the smith paused. The massive hammer lowered onto the anvil with a soft chime. "Ah! Child, you have awakened!" The smith's voice was deafening, yet it lacked even a drop of malice. He immediately offered a deep, ceremonial bow, his armor clanking melodiously. "Forgive my presumption for bringing you here without your permission."

  Eni took a step forward, adjusting her violet uniform. The smith suddenly became flustered; his helmet jerked aside, and a gauntleted hand flew up to cover his visor. "Oh, heavens... My apologies, young lady..." He was clearly embarrassed, averting his gaze to the darkest corner of the workshop. "But truly, it is not fitting for such a lady to travel in such an... economical outfit. Just a uniform and stockings... it is exceedingly bold, even for these times."

  Despite her recent collapse, Eni couldn't help but smirk. The giant's reaction was far too amusing. "I like how I look," she said flirtatiously, running her hand down her thigh. "It's comfortable."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The smith offered no reply, only a quiet, stifled gasp beneath his helm. Silently, trying his best not to look at her legs, he filled a deep bowl with fragrant, steaming stew and set it on a table near the anvil. Beside it appeared a glass of crystal-clear water. Eni didn't wait. She ate hungrily, feeling her strength return with every spoonful.

  "Um... Mister Smith," she said, wiping her lips, "why is your dining table right next to the forge?"

  "Forgive the cramped quarters," Bartolomeo (as he would later introduce himself) bowed again. "In my humble dwelling, there is little room for feasting halls. Everything is subordinated to fire and steel."

  Finishing her meal, Eni stood and straightened her clothes. "Thank you very much. I won't distract you from your work any longer; I need to go."

  "Distract?" The smith threw up his hands. "Nonsense! I would curse myself until the end of my days if I let a lady depart without proper aid. Wait here, I'll be right back!"

  He quickly vanished into a side room. Eni remained alone among hundreds of iron creations. Her gaze drifted over heavy gauntlets with massive square plates, elegant sabers, and heavy shields. But suddenly, she stopped. On a rack, separate from the weaponry, hung a corset. Black, reinforced with steel ribs, with tight lacing, it looked simultaneously like a piece of armor and an instrument of torture.

  Eni stepped closer. Her breathing quickened, and her fingers unconsciously clenched. She stared at it for so long, with such a strange longing, that her thighs began to tremble with a faint, nervous twitch. In her mind, images were already forming—how this corset would squeeze her ribs, how the cold metal would dig into her skin... she felt strange.

  At that moment, the smith returned, carrying a leather flask filled with water. He caught her contemplating the armor. "Do you like this corset?" he asked, a strange tension entering his voice.

  "I... No... Sorry, I was just..." Eni recoiled sharply, averting her awkward gaze and trying to hide her burning cheeks.

  But Bartolomeo seemed to have made the choice for both of them. He thrust the flask into her hands, and then, allowing no argument, took the corset from the rack and literally pushed Eni out of his house onto the doorstep. "Take it!" he said firmly, holding the door halfway closed. "Otherwise, you will suppress your true desires, and in this world, that leads only to ruin."

  He stood in the doorway, his helmet glinting in the sunlight. "My name is Bartolomeo. Remember this, child."

  "And I... I'm Eni," she replied uncertainly, clutching the heavy steel corset to her chest.

  "Farewell, Eni. I hope the steel protects you better than words ever could." The smith gave one final nod and closed the heavy door.

  Eni was left standing on the deserted street of the abandoned village. An unfamiliar, ringing silence filled her head. The Voice had been quiet for a long time now, and that frightened her just as much as the giant smith's sudden generosity. She looked down at the corset in her hands. Its lacing beckoned to her, promising a sweet, stabilizing pain.

  How many Sansa did you complete?