Magni Legendsmith was raised in a clan that measures a life by what still stands after you are gone: gates that outlast wars, weapons whose names are still spoken, stone cut with a maker’s mark and a prayer. He learned walls and blades the dwarf way, and learned that both are promises. Zammonkerr the Forgemaster found him in the work itself — not a vision of fire, but a weld that should have failed and did not. Magni took the vestments without putting down the hammer. A cleric of the Forgemaster does not leave the forge. He makes the forge holy.

He wants more than another good sword. He wants works of magic worthy of the clan vault: steel and stone bound with prayer, relics that will outlive the mountain’s name. The hold has ore and tradition. The road has star-metal, ruined forges, and secrets no anvil at home has tasted. He left under a half-spoken vow — return with a masterwork, or do not come home calling himself Legendsmith.