smith and smithery
Posted: Fri May 31, 2019 9:20 pm
67th of Ashan, Arc 719
Morning
The ring of a hammer against hot iron filled Kaelrik’s ears. He breathed in deeply the smells. Molten fire mixed with the tang of iron and the sweat of the men who worked it. A tension he hadn’t realized had embedded itself in his shoulders was loosened as the Lotharro found himself in his element. In this realm, where steel was forged and things were made, fire reigned supreme in its command over the work being done. Without its heat, without its blaze, nothing would be possible in the realm of a smith. At his approach, the flames in the forges burned hotter but he soothed them with the assurance that he would weave them into his works soon. Too hot and the careful balance of the forgework would be lost. Too cool and that same balance would be shattered.
“Finally! The forgewhisperer graces us with his presence again!” Kaelrik ducked his head and smiled at the blacksmith who commanded the work at hand. The man was not as tall as Kaelrik but he was twice as broad in both gut and muscle. His head was shaved bare but his face was covered in a finely groomed beard that was braided over his chest. The blacksmith folded his arms over his broad chest and fixed Kaelrik with a stare.
“Apologies. I was...well...winning back the heart of a lord.” The bald man arched an eyebrow.
“The news is true then? I’d heard that there were sightings of you at the villa of Lord Alistair.” Kaelrik had only been making infrequent stops in Miletos outside of the villa. He’d been hard at work both learning the secrets of alchemy and also trying to wrap his head around his role in his husband’s stately affairs.
“That depends on what news you’ve heard.” The blacksmith sniffed as he fixed Kaelrik with a stare that reminded the Lotharro very much of his father.
“Heard that our conquering lord’s wife went missing and that suddenly he has a new husband to call his own. Coincidence?” Kaelrik frowned.
“There’s been no foul play, if that’s what you’re implying. Zarik is alive as far as I know. He just...left. For reasons he didn’t make clear to me.” The blacksmith eyed Kaelrik for a moment before nodding.
“Then I suppose you’re here to tell me you’re leaving?” Kaelrik shook his head.
“I am actually here to continue working. I’m not a lord. At least, not a very good one. I don’t know how to run a lord’s household. But I am the son of a forgesmith. So I can bring glory to my husband by building and crafting things that are useful.” Kaelrik couldn’t quite make out the expression that the blacksmith gave him. It was a mix between caution, curiosity and disbelief. The forge had gone a bit quieter as the apprentices and journeymen around the complex paused in their work to observe the conversation taking place. After what felt like a tense pause, the blacksmith nodded.
“Alright then. Fires burn better when you’re around anyways, Elementalist.” Kaelrik let out a breath he’d been holding. He smirked and gave a nod of thanks. He hadn’t hidden the fact that he’d been a Defier. He’d used the full mastery of his powers to assist in the forging taking place around the complex. The blacksmith went to a rack and tossed Kaelrik an apron. The Lotharro placed it on, tying the strings in the back. He needed no prompting. He knew his role in the shop. He was to tend the fires, haul the ore, and lend a hand to the more seasoned apprentices where they needed it.
He went around to the forge fires and touched the tips of his fingers to each. The first he encountered, while eager and excited to get to work melting and blazing, was cooler than it should have been. Its music was languid when it should have been more robust. Kaelrik nudged more strength and vigor into the fires using his ether. He then went to the coal heaps, adding more to the forges. It was a series of simple tasks that helped to keep his mind off of bigger things that were weighing on him. He turned, preparing to go to the storeroom and retrieve some material for the more seasoned smiths to work with when the blacksmith clapped him on the shoulder.
“Come help me at the forge.” Kaelrik quirked a brow but did not argue. He nodded following until they reached an anvil. The smith handed him a pair of thick leather gloves and at first Kaelrik nearly declined. He needed no protection from the heat of anything but he reconsidered as he remembered the materials they were working with. Fire and heat might not be able to harm him but it still wouldn’t do to have metal fusing to his flesh.
“Grab the heavy hammer.” Kaelrik retrieved the tool easily enough. As soon as he turned around the blacksmith was hammering away at the shaft of a heated chunk of metal that was being gripped on one end by a pair of tongs. He pounded away at it repeatedly in silence before finally turning to Kaelrik with a stare.
“Strike where I tell you.” Kaelrik just nodded. The smith grunted and plunged the end of the metal bar back into the flames. He held it there until the bar was a yellow-orange in glow. He rotated the bar so that the hot end was nearest Kaelrik. With a light tap of a small hammer, the blacksmith nodded his head. Hefting the hammer, Kaelrik swung it downward until he both felt and heard the distinct impact of the head upon the metal.
“Again.” Kaelrik repeated it. The blacksmith rotated the metal bar. He tapped with his small hammer and Kaelrik swung his heavy hammer down upon the metal. This process was repeated, with the smith only pausing to plunge the metal back into the fire periodically so that the bar remained the yellow-orange glow on the working end.
“This is the striking color. Yellow-orange. Any hotter and you risk melting. The metal will turn white. Starts red, then glows orange, then yellow, then white.” He tapped an area on the bar with his small hammer and Kaelrik struck that area of heavy hammer. He could feel the strain of the labor in his muscles but he was glad for it.
“What you’re doing is called Striking. I think how it works should be obvious.” Kaelrik chuckled with earned a small smirk from the smith. He reheated the metal then positioned it on the anvil. Kaelrik didn’t know what they were making but he could follow direction easily enough. The motions repeated themselves. Kaelrik would strike where the blacksmith directed. The bar was flattened according to what the man had in mind. The metal would be reheated and the striking of its surface continued. Little by little, the bar began to take some semblance of a shape though the Lotharro still couldn’t tell what. Whatever the smith had in mind, he hadn’t yet shared it with Kaelrik, nor did he need to. He was content with the work at hand. Exactly how long they continued in that manner, Kaelrik wasn’t sure but eventually he began to see the shape of something familiar. As each strike of his hammer came down onto the hunk of heated metal, Kaelrik began to make out the shape of a hammerhead. The rudimentary shape was not too dissimilar to the one that he was holding in his hands at that moment. Finally, after a series of more strikes, more heating and more turning of the metal at the hands of the blacksmith, he raised a hand indicating that Kaelrik should stop.
“We’re done for now. You will continue working on this tomorrow. Every smith should know how to make his own tools. If you can’t at least do that, what good are you?” The blacksmith turned the hunk of roughly shaped metal a few times before nodding. He eyed Kaelrik.
Kaelrik was sweating. The muscles in his arms and chest felt thoroughly exercised. Even his torso felt as though he’d gotten a workout from the angles at which he’d been striking the metal. The smith eyed him for a moment.
“Well, at least you can follow direction. That’ll be all. The trial’s grown long.” Kaelrik glanced up to see that the glow of twilight was beginning to encroach upon the city. He blinked in surprise at having lost track of the time. Returning the heavy hammer to its place, Kaelrik hung his apron with a nod to the smith who set about dipping the metal into a trough of water. As he made his way out of the forges, covered in sweat, soot and ash from the atmosphere, Kaelrik felt good. He felt as though he’d earned something out of his time that day. While he knew he was only beginning to learn the very basics of how to be a proper smith, he had a start. That was something and Kaelrik could work with something.
Morning
The ring of a hammer against hot iron filled Kaelrik’s ears. He breathed in deeply the smells. Molten fire mixed with the tang of iron and the sweat of the men who worked it. A tension he hadn’t realized had embedded itself in his shoulders was loosened as the Lotharro found himself in his element. In this realm, where steel was forged and things were made, fire reigned supreme in its command over the work being done. Without its heat, without its blaze, nothing would be possible in the realm of a smith. At his approach, the flames in the forges burned hotter but he soothed them with the assurance that he would weave them into his works soon. Too hot and the careful balance of the forgework would be lost. Too cool and that same balance would be shattered.
“Finally! The forgewhisperer graces us with his presence again!” Kaelrik ducked his head and smiled at the blacksmith who commanded the work at hand. The man was not as tall as Kaelrik but he was twice as broad in both gut and muscle. His head was shaved bare but his face was covered in a finely groomed beard that was braided over his chest. The blacksmith folded his arms over his broad chest and fixed Kaelrik with a stare.
“Apologies. I was...well...winning back the heart of a lord.” The bald man arched an eyebrow.
“The news is true then? I’d heard that there were sightings of you at the villa of Lord Alistair.” Kaelrik had only been making infrequent stops in Miletos outside of the villa. He’d been hard at work both learning the secrets of alchemy and also trying to wrap his head around his role in his husband’s stately affairs.
“That depends on what news you’ve heard.” The blacksmith sniffed as he fixed Kaelrik with a stare that reminded the Lotharro very much of his father.
“Heard that our conquering lord’s wife went missing and that suddenly he has a new husband to call his own. Coincidence?” Kaelrik frowned.
“There’s been no foul play, if that’s what you’re implying. Zarik is alive as far as I know. He just...left. For reasons he didn’t make clear to me.” The blacksmith eyed Kaelrik for a moment before nodding.
“Then I suppose you’re here to tell me you’re leaving?” Kaelrik shook his head.
“I am actually here to continue working. I’m not a lord. At least, not a very good one. I don’t know how to run a lord’s household. But I am the son of a forgesmith. So I can bring glory to my husband by building and crafting things that are useful.” Kaelrik couldn’t quite make out the expression that the blacksmith gave him. It was a mix between caution, curiosity and disbelief. The forge had gone a bit quieter as the apprentices and journeymen around the complex paused in their work to observe the conversation taking place. After what felt like a tense pause, the blacksmith nodded.
“Alright then. Fires burn better when you’re around anyways, Elementalist.” Kaelrik let out a breath he’d been holding. He smirked and gave a nod of thanks. He hadn’t hidden the fact that he’d been a Defier. He’d used the full mastery of his powers to assist in the forging taking place around the complex. The blacksmith went to a rack and tossed Kaelrik an apron. The Lotharro placed it on, tying the strings in the back. He needed no prompting. He knew his role in the shop. He was to tend the fires, haul the ore, and lend a hand to the more seasoned apprentices where they needed it.
He went around to the forge fires and touched the tips of his fingers to each. The first he encountered, while eager and excited to get to work melting and blazing, was cooler than it should have been. Its music was languid when it should have been more robust. Kaelrik nudged more strength and vigor into the fires using his ether. He then went to the coal heaps, adding more to the forges. It was a series of simple tasks that helped to keep his mind off of bigger things that were weighing on him. He turned, preparing to go to the storeroom and retrieve some material for the more seasoned smiths to work with when the blacksmith clapped him on the shoulder.
“Come help me at the forge.” Kaelrik quirked a brow but did not argue. He nodded following until they reached an anvil. The smith handed him a pair of thick leather gloves and at first Kaelrik nearly declined. He needed no protection from the heat of anything but he reconsidered as he remembered the materials they were working with. Fire and heat might not be able to harm him but it still wouldn’t do to have metal fusing to his flesh.
“Grab the heavy hammer.” Kaelrik retrieved the tool easily enough. As soon as he turned around the blacksmith was hammering away at the shaft of a heated chunk of metal that was being gripped on one end by a pair of tongs. He pounded away at it repeatedly in silence before finally turning to Kaelrik with a stare.
“Strike where I tell you.” Kaelrik just nodded. The smith grunted and plunged the end of the metal bar back into the flames. He held it there until the bar was a yellow-orange in glow. He rotated the bar so that the hot end was nearest Kaelrik. With a light tap of a small hammer, the blacksmith nodded his head. Hefting the hammer, Kaelrik swung it downward until he both felt and heard the distinct impact of the head upon the metal.
“Again.” Kaelrik repeated it. The blacksmith rotated the metal bar. He tapped with his small hammer and Kaelrik swung his heavy hammer down upon the metal. This process was repeated, with the smith only pausing to plunge the metal back into the fire periodically so that the bar remained the yellow-orange glow on the working end.
“This is the striking color. Yellow-orange. Any hotter and you risk melting. The metal will turn white. Starts red, then glows orange, then yellow, then white.” He tapped an area on the bar with his small hammer and Kaelrik struck that area of heavy hammer. He could feel the strain of the labor in his muscles but he was glad for it.
“What you’re doing is called Striking. I think how it works should be obvious.” Kaelrik chuckled with earned a small smirk from the smith. He reheated the metal then positioned it on the anvil. Kaelrik didn’t know what they were making but he could follow direction easily enough. The motions repeated themselves. Kaelrik would strike where the blacksmith directed. The bar was flattened according to what the man had in mind. The metal would be reheated and the striking of its surface continued. Little by little, the bar began to take some semblance of a shape though the Lotharro still couldn’t tell what. Whatever the smith had in mind, he hadn’t yet shared it with Kaelrik, nor did he need to. He was content with the work at hand. Exactly how long they continued in that manner, Kaelrik wasn’t sure but eventually he began to see the shape of something familiar. As each strike of his hammer came down onto the hunk of heated metal, Kaelrik began to make out the shape of a hammerhead. The rudimentary shape was not too dissimilar to the one that he was holding in his hands at that moment. Finally, after a series of more strikes, more heating and more turning of the metal at the hands of the blacksmith, he raised a hand indicating that Kaelrik should stop.
“We’re done for now. You will continue working on this tomorrow. Every smith should know how to make his own tools. If you can’t at least do that, what good are you?” The blacksmith turned the hunk of roughly shaped metal a few times before nodding. He eyed Kaelrik.
Kaelrik was sweating. The muscles in his arms and chest felt thoroughly exercised. Even his torso felt as though he’d gotten a workout from the angles at which he’d been striking the metal. The smith eyed him for a moment.
“Well, at least you can follow direction. That’ll be all. The trial’s grown long.” Kaelrik glanced up to see that the glow of twilight was beginning to encroach upon the city. He blinked in surprise at having lost track of the time. Returning the heavy hammer to its place, Kaelrik hung his apron with a nod to the smith who set about dipping the metal into a trough of water. As he made his way out of the forges, covered in sweat, soot and ash from the atmosphere, Kaelrik felt good. He felt as though he’d earned something out of his time that day. While he knew he was only beginning to learn the very basics of how to be a proper smith, he had a start. That was something and Kaelrik could work with something.