@birdmaking
When Oceiros had learned this legendary blacksmith was a Corvian, he’d expected something more along the lines of the creatures living in the outlying forests, grisly four-winged beings with hollow grins. Not a literal half-bird, a gangling and haphazard meeting of parts.
Nonetheless, he was determined to find out if this creature possessed the art of soul transmutation, and more importantly, if she could teach it to him. He orders her brought to his private gardens, a nook of the castle filled with various plant life used in alchemy, most of them highly toxic. Even now he is sure there are eyes upon him from the higher windows, people who should not be watching.
“The Paledrake left us many wondrous gifts, did he not?” He turns the scale ring on his finger, pacing back and forth in front of her.