Traveling as zamasu

The late morning sun baked the cobbled streets of Orario's Smithing District, the heavy scent of molten metal, soot, and quenching oil hanging thick in the air. 

Hammers rang like war drums across the maze of interconnected workshops, the Hephaestus Familia's signature symphony of labor filling every alleyway.

Hermes adjusted the feather in his wide-brimmed hat, his vibrant orange tunic and green vest making him stand out among the grime-streaked workers like a sore thumb. Not that he minded.

"Ah, can you feel that, Asfi?" Hermes spread his arms dramatically as they navigated the congested lane between forges. 

"The sparks, the sweat, the promise of innovation! Mortals bending raw earth to their will—it stirs the soul!"

Asfi Al Andromeda walked half a step behind him, her expression as flat as ever. She balanced a small, reinforced satchel against her side—the Familia's real reason for being here.

"Focus, Lord Hermes," Asfi said, voice crisp over the hammering. "You're carrying sensitive documents, not strolling through a festival."

"Sensitive documents," Hermes echoed, waggling his eyebrows as if they were code for something scandalous. "Blueprints. Contracts. Whispered rumors of groundbreaking enchantments, perhaps? It all falls under the grand umbrella of… opportunity."

Before Asfi could retort, Hermes's sharp eyes locked onto a nearby forge where a particularly striking Amazonian smith worked.

She was impossible to miss—easily six and a half feet tall, muscle layered onto her frame like steel cables beneath sun-kissed skin. 

Her leathers were scuffed from labor, her dark braids tied back tight. 

A series of intricate braids were pulled back tightly from her sharp features, highlighting the firm set of her jaw and her intense, focused eyes.

With one arm, she hoisted a steel plate onto an anvil that two men struggled to move between them.

"By the gods," Hermes murmured, his grin widening. "Now there's craftsmanship."

Asfi sighed. "We're here to deliver contracts, not to cause trouble."

But Hermes was already veering off course, his stride light as ever. 

He approached the Amazon with the practiced ease of a seasoned charmer, tipping his hat as he came to a stop just outside hammer-swinging range.

"Pardon the intrusion, mighty forge-maiden," he greeted, flashing his trademark smile. "But one must commend such magnificent strength. And here I thought the only heavy lifting in this district was haggling with suppliers."

The Amazon glanced his way briefly, unimpressed, but kept working.

They knew this must be one of Hermes' regular ploys.

"Careful with that one," one of the younger smiths whispered nearby. "Lyra doesn't do 'flirting.' She does arm-wrestling… with bones on the line."

Hermes's grin didn't falter. "A challenge and a mystery. Perfect combination."

Lyra finally spoke, voice low and steady. "You've got business here, pretty boy, or are you just getting in the way?"

"Business, of course." Hermes gestured vaguely behind him. "Official deliveries, high-priority contracts—very dull stuff. But surely even a warrior of flame and steel deserves… less tedious conversation?"

Before Lyra could answer, Asfi materialized beside Hermes, her expression the definition of done.

"Lord Hermes, we're on a timetable," she reminded firmly, tapping the satchel against her side. "You promised minimal distractions."

"Details, details," Hermes replied airily, though he took a subtle step back from Lyra's personal space. 

"But fear not, Asfi. My distractions are always in the pursuit of useful information."

"Or bruised ribs," Asfi muttered under her breath.

Lyra shook her head, lifting the steel plate with ease onto the forge. "You're lucky your assistant's got sense," she remarked. "Go deliver your papers, feather-hat."

"Of course," Hermes bowed playfully, retreating. "But the offer for lively conversation remains."

As they walked away, Asfi exhaled sharply. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming? Impossibly curious? I'll accept either," Hermes replied.

The next few hours settled into a familiar rhythm. 

They moved workshop to workshop, exchanging sealed contracts and discreet inquiries. 

Some blueprints detailed basic commissions—armor components, replacement parts—but others hinted at more ambitious projects: advanced magic item auctions, collaborative enchantment experiments, even speculative rumors of a breakthrough in adamantite refinement.

Hermes thrived on the gossip.

"So Ganesha's crew ordered bulk tower shields last week?" he mused after one exchange. "Reinforced for anti-magical impacts? Fascinating."

"Standard procedure," Asfi replied. "Their patrol routes brush against Daedalus Street. Increased smuggling attempts mean heavier defense."

"Still, patterns emerge," Hermes grinned. "Where there's reinforced defense, there's offensive escalation. An arms race is opportunity in disguise."

By early afternoon, the sun crept higher, the streets sweltering as forges blazed hotter. The satchel on Asfi's shoulder was lighter now, most deliveries complete.

"Last stop's down by the precision forge," Asfi confirmed, checking her ledger. "After that, we—"

Hermes held up a hand, his smile shifting to something sharper.

"Hold that thought," he said, eyes narrowing slightly.

Across the street, weaving through the crowds with quiet, eerie calm, walked a stranger who didn't belong.

Tall, lean, and oddly poised, the figure had unnaturally pale green skin and silver-white hair pulled back neatly, though strands framed his sharp, angular features. 

His expression was calm, his silver eyes sweeping the area like he was analyzing every structure, every moving object. 

His clothes—a simple white robe of unfamiliar cut—stood out among the soot-streaked workers and armored smiths.

"What in the…" Asfi trailed off, following Hermes's line of sight.

"He doesn't work here," Hermes murmured, gaze locked on the stranger. "Doesn't belong to any Familia I recognize, either."

The man moved with unsettling grace, unaffected by the forge's heat, the bustling workers, or the occasional shouting merchant. 

His eyes were unusually sharp, scanning with detached clarity. A few passing smiths gave him wide berth, their expressions wary.

Hermes adjusted his hat slightly, that familiar spark of curiosity igniting.

"Interesting," he muttered.

"Dangerous," Asfi corrected immediately. "Unfamiliar face, odd appearance, unnaturally composed. Likely a wildcard."

"Wildcards are opportunities, dear Asfi," Hermes countered smoothly.

Before she could stop him, Hermes cut across the street, weaving through the workers with ease. 

He positioned himself casually ahead of the stranger's path, timing his approach perfectly.

The stranger slowed as Hermes stepped into his peripheral vision, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments. 

There was no surprise in his gaze—only curiosity.

Hermes smiled warmly, tipping his hat.

"You may call me Hermes," he introduced smoothly, voice carrying just enough to be heard over the distant hammers. "God of Travelers, Messengers, and the Crossroads where all paths… meet."

The stranger's expression didn't change, but his brows furrowed a bit, like he was dissecting Hermes's words, his attire, his presence. 

For half a second, the surrounding noise seemed to fade, the crowded forge district reduced to a distant hum as they assessed one another.

Then, without a word, the green-skinned man nodded before shifting his gaze past Hermes, continuing on his path without so much as a reaction.

Hermes watched him go, his grin widening.

Asfi arrived at his side, expression tight with restrained irritation.

"You couldn't help yourself," she stated flatly.

"An unknown factor appears in Hephaestus territory," Hermes shrugged. "It would be irresponsible not to introduce myself."

"You think he's a threat?"

"I think," Hermes said, eyes gleaming, "he's worth watching."

They stood for a moment longer, the stranger's white silhouette fading into the crowd of soot-streaked workers and towering forges.

Asfi sighed, adjusting the satchel on her shoulder. "We've finished our deliveries. Let's go."

"Agreed," Hermes said, tipping his hat once more, eyes lingering on the path the stranger took. "But something tells me, Asfi… our paths will cross again."

Without another word, they turned, blending back into the bustling streets, the forges roaring behind them as the day pressed on.

End of Chapter 25

Did I mess up something or..?