A Warlocks' Disguise {ArthurxFem!Merlin}

Chapter 19 - Merilyn

The early morning air clung to Merilyn's skin as she approached the forge, the sun just starting to crest over Camelot's rooftops. The streets were still waking up, the faint murmur of the city's heartbeat barely audible. The forge was quiet except for the rhythmic clanging of Gwen's father at work. Each strike of his hammer against metal echoed through the alley, and the familiar scent of hot iron and smoke filled Merilyn's senses, grounding her in the moment.

She had been waiting for this day ever since Gwen's father had sent word that her new weapons were ready. A week had passed since she had placed the order, and now the anticipation thrummed through her like an electric current. These weapons would be more than tools—they would be an extension of her, something to finally bridge the gap between the makeshift defenses she'd relied on and the warrior she was becoming.

As Merilyn rounded the corner, she saw Gwen standing outside, a warm smile spreading across her face as she spotted her. "You're here early," Gwen greeted, stepping aside to let her pass into the forge. "Papa's been up since dawn finishing them."

Merilyn's pulse quickened as she stepped inside the dimly lit forge. The heat from the fires wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, and Gwen's father looked up from his workbench, wiping his soot-streaked hands on his apron.

"Good morning, Merlin!" the blacksmith called out, his grin as wide as ever. He gestured toward the workbench. "I've got something special for you today."

Merilyn's heart leapt as she stepped forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the weapons laid out on the table. Gwen's father handed her the bowstaff first, and as soon as her fingers closed around the smooth wood, she felt the familiar, comforting weight settle into her hands. But this staff—this was something different. Something better.

The bo staff was even more breathtaking up close, crafted from a nearly black wood that gleamed in the firelight. It was solid and perfectly balanced, standing just below her chin in height—exactly as she had requested. But the true marvel was the craftsmanship. The sharp, metal tip glistened at the end, deadly and precise, integrated seamlessly into the wood. And as Merilyn ran her hands down the staff, she could feel the cold, reinforced bands of metal coiled around the shaft, providing strength where it was most needed.

She gave the staff a few testing spins, the wood moving fluidly in her hands, light enough to keep her swift and agile, yet sturdy enough to deliver powerful blows. Each twist of the metal bands added not only protection but also a sense of weight that grounded the staff, making it feel like an extension of her body.

"This is incredible," Merilyn breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't help but smile as the staff moved with her, responding to her grip and her movements as though it had always belonged in her hands. "It's perfect."

Gwen's father beamed, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Glad you think so," he said. "And I didn't stop there. Figured you'd need something to carry all your new toys, so I took the liberty of crafting a custom sheath for your short swords and the staff."

He moved to the side and lifted a sleek leather sheath from the table, handing it to Merilyn. The design was simple but practical—a sturdy rig that would allow her to carry both swords in a crisscross pattern on her back, with the handles positioned just above her shoulders for easy access. The sheath was fitted with an easy-release mechanism for her bowstaff, so she could draw it quickly without fumbling.

Merilyn ran her fingers over the leather, admiring the craftsmanship. It was more than she had expected, and it was clear that Gwen's father had put a lot of thought into the design. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "This is... more than I could have asked for."