Beginning the Dance.
10th of Cylus
Unnamed Smithy, Hewnan Street, Nashaki.
The Scrolls of Anar Verse One, Nashaki, #5 Knowing when to drop the Hammer, or a quiet word.
W
aves of heat, today he felt it, the windows were closed due to strong winds. Not an unwelcome feeling, the first bead of sweat rolling down his cheek, his first time with just a single layer of clothes on since he had left Viden. Gusts rattled against the window shutters, but nothing rattled his concentration today. The smithy looked tidy, clean, the walls were still cracked in places and the stock was still piling up with no buyer, not that it stopped his employer making more and more endlessly. Several days of sweeping up, shovelling dung, learning the different grades of local iron, their temperature, and seeing the first mixes of steel, which was his next step up from Iron, and took much more work to be ready. He still hadn’t been allowed to make a sword. Kaladis was beginning to understand that discipline was important to being a blacksmith. Alinan had explained routine was important to create discipline, but “respecting the steel, ” was what Alinan was talking about now.
“When the steel doesn’t become what you want, work with it. Respect what it wants to be.”
As Kaladis watched and learned, he didn’t look like he believed Alinan. The Eidisi apprentice reserved comment for now.
W
hat had begun as a small tool, was slowly being reshaped to a small knife while Kaladis watched. Folding the metal, then reheating it, then hammering it to remove any impurities in the seel. As the smith was half way to finishing, he allowed Kaladis to take over. This was what he’d been waiting for. Taking his time, in no rush to fail, he picked a hammer. The end of the blade was already thick and upset, the apprentice began working on evening it out. Kaladis then went to work the metal finely at the end, but the smith soon corrected him, telling him to leave the point till last.“Hotter,” Alinan again corrected, letting the metal reach a lighter amber. He demonstrated half hits to make the handle of the metal smaller, using the edge of anvil to mold it, then glancing hits on the edge of the knife to sharpen it, evenly on each side to not imbalance the blade. As the metal was upset again by a mistake, he reminded Kaladis to slowly work it out. This wouldn't be a perfect knife, far from it. Kaladis was loving every bit, ever trill working on the metal no matter how it looked, it reminded him of happier times.
There was a knock at the door. Both doors this time. Which caused Kaladis and Alinan to look up. There would be no running from their visitors this time.
“Hotter. Carry on as I showed you.” Alinan remarked and walked to the front door, Kaladis managed a smile. Some of his icy demeanor was softening in this place, finding his feet in the desert lands, beginning to feel some measure of respect for the Qi'ora smith. Despite being engaged with his work he found himself looking up, to see the first customer he'd met in his ten trals here making weapons, hoping to understand more of this puzzling smithy.
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