Chapter 14: Working Smarter, And Harder

Chapter 14: Working Smarter, And Harder

Landar

The next day, I went to work. But I was forced to choose between working with Oswald, and working in the forge because of our trips to the temple for the next few weeks. I chose that day to work in the forge. I had some frustrations I needed to work out, and my new, larger body needed to be put through its paces.

The coals were easy work. I was tall enough now to use the shovel to fill the basket and then dump each load into the feeder. That gave me nearly five minutes between each load that allowed me to rest and recuperate. The work also went a lot faster, and in an hour, the smith was done with his work for the day.

He called me and his apprentice son over when it was done, and I found he had two smaller anvils laid out for us on the other side of the furnace. It was in the sun, but the day wasnt too hot with light cloud cover.

Since we finished early today, I wanted you both to work on a small project of your own. The smith said as he ran a hand over the two sets of small tools he left for me and his son. The son I now realized I was at a height with. I had thought he was much older than me, but now I could tell I was an anomaly for my age.

The smiths son selected a wind chime, something he wanted to give to his mother as a birthday gift in a month or so. And you, boy, what is it you want to try your hand at making?

I looked at the long piece of steel he had provided me, and I ran my hand over it, wondering what exactly I wanted to do with it.

I thought about what problems I was facing in my life. If my sister was in danger, surely as I grew up I would be in similar danger as well. On top of that, I wanted to help my sister out in her current situation. To protect her and keep her safe as little as I could.

That meant a weapon. One I could use.

There were only two close combat weapons I was familiar with back in my army days that werent also firearms. The army entrenching tool, which was basically a shovel with an ax head, and a hatchet which my unit had used for all kinds of interesting things both off and on tour in the sandbox.

An ax might be useful, sir. Particularly if Im going to be going outside the walls soon to learn to forage with the other kids. The smith smiled and patted me on the back.

A wise choice, boy. But difficult to make. Both of you have chosen hard builds. Dont worry, Ill be here to ensure the final product is at least useful. Cant have your first tool you ever make to break on your first attempt to use it. Would be bad for business.

He took the next two hours teaching us just how to prep the forge, and how to set things up so we could work continuously. Reheating a project from cold once youve started working could warp it. The warping wouldnt ruin the work, but it would take up extra time for us to reshape and reframe the metal then if we just worked on it until the forging part of the project was complete.

Lets start with you boy, Ill work with my son this afternoon. You have places to be, I hear. I saw his sons visible relief. The kid had been working since before I had arrived, and must have been exhausted already. He went off to clean the workshop, and then tend the stall as the smith took the long piece of metal and began to work it.

Once its nice and molten, Ill be using the hammer. Youll put it in the forge and back to the anvil using these tongues. He showed me the large metal grippers and handed me thick leather gloves. Dont worry, I have two Strong quality healing potions in case of emergency. Havent had to use them yet this year. He squinted at me through shaggy eyebrows as he cleaned his bald head with a rag that came away black as tar. Dont make me waste them on you.

I agreed, and we began working. First, he did the work heating the metal rod and rounding it on top of itself, folding it over and over until it was a single brick of half molten, soft metal. Alright boy, take the tongues.

I did so and held it steady on the anvil as he took two hammers to the metal brick. The first was a large hammer that compressed the metal down. Bits of blackened metal still as hot as the rest of it shed off the side. Thats the impurities being compressed out of it, he explained when I asked. The second hammer he used to reshape the head, prepping the brick for the next strike.

When the metal started growing dim, the smith removed both hammers and motioned for me to put it back in the fire. I heaved the metal with all my strength into the fire and held it there, resting on the coals until the brick returned to its nearly rosy coloring.

Thats enough, boy. Bring it back. I did so, and the process went on again.

By the fourth or fifth return to the fire, the flecks of black that were removed from the metal were tiny compared to what they had been. Then finally, several heavy blows in a row landed and nothing came out of the metal.

Good, its as uniform as we can make it today. Put it back in the fire and Ill shape it.

When I put the molten brick back on the anvil, he struck it with two smaller hammers, shaping and molding the metal into the rough shape he wanted. It was about the same size as my fist, perhaps a bit larger. First, he smashed it down to nearly a flat circle, then tapered the edges, removing most of the metal.

I occasionally had to reheat it, but the smith worked quickly, and within the hour the ax head took the rough shape I wanted.

At the end, he took the metal frame and drenched it in briny smelling water, sending plumes of steam into the air. Well sharpen it next time youre here, after work. Today, I think you have somewhere else to be, boy. The smith said.

Thank you. This will truly be helpful. The smith smiled and motioned towards the door. My father stood there, watching. I didnt know for how long.

Come along, Landar, we need to get to the temple.

***

Three clerics met me and my family at the front gate of the temple. The meanest looking of the three escorted my sister away. Another showed my mother and father away, while the third glared at me standing in the middle of the courtyard.

Youre filthy, before I could respond, a light suffused his hands and suddenly a wave of cleaning energy washed over me. A second later, I stood as clean as when I had started the day off. There, now you wont pose a risk to, well, everything inside. Come on, kid, follow me.

I found it much easier to keep up with the cleric in my new body. But it was still a chore. For every one of his steps, I had to take two. By the time we arrived at the small library room, I was out of breath, but not completely exhausted. A marked improvement, and an accomplishment I was proud of.

Do you need any help finding anything? He asked, and it was then I finally got a good look at him up close. He was younger, maybe in his late teens, early twenties. His fiery red hair and pale skin marked him out as someone with a northerner heritage. Not that it was rare, but it was uncommon compared to the brown-haired, browned eyes, and slightly darker skin tones I was more used to seeing.

Thank you, cleric. I bowed slightly. But I think I should be okay. Unless you have something specific you would suggest I study?

The young cleric hesitated for a moment. Depends. What do you want to learn? The things in here are all basic manuals, stuff you can find in public libraries in the noble district, or that merchants can purchase with coin. Nothing too impressive, and nothing forbidden or restricted. So I guess it all depends on what you want to learn, kid. He stared at me for a moment with an intensity that I had come to associate with people trying to discern my foundations of health or relative strength.

Mother Margaret said my mental and spiritual foundations are pretty good, while my physical condition needed work. I only recently grew to see what you see now. I used to be I showed him by holding a hand down about a foot and a half from my head height.

Oh, youre the runtI mean the sick kid. Well, good to see youre doing better. He coughed to cover his indiscretion. If you have both good mental and spiritual foundations, it means you have some mana to throw around. You could always look into cores if you want to become an adventurer one day. Or learn the basics of mana manipulation, if you want to go to the academy. Plenty of spell casters dont go that route, mind you, but most who get really strong do.

What about identification magic, or abilities? Things that can do what Mother Margarets little eye glass does?

The young cleric smirked. Very few things can do what her glass can kid. Thats the whole point of it. Its her sacred instrument, given to her by the goddess herself when she was blessed with her office. But yeah, there are other things that can do similar things, though with less accuracy.

He went to one shelf and pulled out a small book, then placed it in my hands. It was titled A Basic Primer On Magical Abilities And Skills, Volume 3: For The Edification And Instruction of Young Children.This chapter made its debut appearance via N0v3lB1n.

This would have been a noble kids textbook, then? I asked after reading the title. The cleric nodded.

Imbued Strike: Imbue a weapon, my hand, or other thing with mana, then shape that mana so it will explode in a specific way. Smiths like to use this to help them shape metal in finer detail, or so they can work with more exotic materials.

I closed the screen and found the room had gotten darker. The cleric had lit several candles as the sun had started to set. Before I could say so much as a thank you, the doors opened and my mother and father, looking haggard and exhausted, walked through.

Come Landar, lets head home. I didnt protest, as I stood and found my entire body more exhausted than I had felt in at least a couple of days.

***

That night my parents didnt say much about the process other than that it had been trying. We had a short, cold dinner, and then all retired for bed. The next day my father and I went to work like we always had before. I had to make the same choice, work in the forge, or work with Oswald.

I felt bad for leaving Oswald alone with the accounting but I chose the forge. I had a project and was finally making real progress. The smith had new work for us today, sharpening and treating knives with various types of oil after using the grindstone wheel on them.

There were twenty knives in total, and once I learned the process it went by quickly. But the first two attempts were near disasters and the smith was clearly annoyed from having to save his clients knives from my ignorance.

When I finally got one right he looked at it, grunted, and said Get back to work. Call me over when youre done.

About two hours later, I finished polishing the last knife.

He let me use the grindstone and gave me some of his extra oil. You learned to do it with knives, but hatchets are a bit trickier. You have to move the blade along with the stone not just side to side, but this way.

He showed me by applying the oil along where the blade would be, then running the grindstone slowly, and applying the blade of the ax. He showed me several times at slow speed, then had me practice as he corrected my grip. About half an hour later he declared youre ready. Get to work.

He left me to my own devices. To be fair, he had no way of knowing how much trouble I had gotten into in my grand dads old farm shop.

I examined the oil and touched it with my fingers. It had a similar feel to the ink from the other day. I wonder?

I took a tiny dab of the oil and infused it with mana. It glowed a bright yellow for a moment and then died as the trickle of mana dissipated. So it burns brighter, but doesnt stay as long as when I infuse ink. I examined the remains of my experiment only to realize that the few minerals inside the oil glowed particularly bright, but the oil itself suppressed the light.

Okay, now thats interesting. I whispered, considering my options.

I infused the rest of the oil, rubbed it on the ax blade. I then started kicking the weight wheel at the bottom of the grindstone that gave the stone momentum and speed. It took almost a full minute to get it up to a good clip, then I touched the still glowing ax head to the stone, just as the smith had shown me.

Sparks flew in orange and yellow cascades, far more than I was ready for. I pulled the blade back off the stone and inspected the metal that had touched it. That part of the blades edge that had contacted the stone was as keen as Id ever seen. The rest was untouched, and the oil was practically gone.

What I did with the oil made the metal more malleable, interesting. I thought as I moved more slowly and braced my arms for when the edge touched the stone again.

It was quick, and sparks flew in every direction, but I moved the ax head just as I was shown. About thirty seconds later, I stopped and took a quick look at my work.

The ax head was sharp along the blades edge, but the edge wasnt as straight as it should be. At some places it was thick, at other places it was thinner.

Is this your work, boy? The smith asked, taking the ax head from my hands. He had stayed behind, watching me from just a few feet away while I worked.

Yes, sir.

Got my son working on cutting the pieces out with a stencil and chisel. Left him to come see what youre up to. You did good for your first try at an ax. But the blade isnt as uniform as it should be. That takes a steady hand. Something that comes with time and practice. This will serve you well for about a month and then the blade will have chips and cracks in it so bad itll be unusable.

I sighed. What can I do to fix it, sir?

Sir is it? The smith smiled down at me before kneeling and running his finger along the edges. I see what you did here. You added some mana to the oil, right? I nodded. Thought you might do that. Happens with those who can use it. Me and the boy dont have mana, you see, but Ive seen it enough in merchant boys who want to learn a trade, or in the higher class craftsmen who work with nobles that I know the signs.

He touched the oil off the rag I had used to apply it and rubbed it between his fingers. You infused the minerals. Interesting choice. He kneeled there, considering the blade and the oil on his fingers in quiet contemplation for a few moments.

Why sir? he looked at me as if he had forgotten I was there. Why is it interesting? I was just experimenting, sir. I didnt know what I was doing.

He smiled a broad, knowing smile. Boys, always getting into trouble. Infusing the minerals softens the metal for a short time. But once the oil dries, and the minerals are left behind coating and protecting the ax blade, it hardens them. Making the blade stronger. Usually not by much, but every little bit helps.

He lifted the ax head to show me, grabbed a metal tool and chipped a small fragment off the blade where it was thin and uneven. Then he tried to do it where it was thicker and the tool itself bent slightly instead.

What you did strengthens it, but its not invincible. I use oil I buy from a hedge witch on the guards weapons like your fathers spear head. Not that he ever uses the damn thing. It gives them a bit of an edge against some bandits and monsters they sometimes face. But its low quality oil. She infuses the oil itself, you see, not the minerals. Her work helps the weapons hold an edge better, but it doesnt harden the metal itself. Just gives it a better protective coating than regular oil.

You know, Im not really interested in becoming a smith. Not professionally, anyway. Oh, dont get me wrong sir, you and your son do amazing work and the profession is honorable. I am more than grateful for your efforts and lessons. But

But its not the calling of your heart. He said, smiling and nodding. Tell you what. You give me six vials of this oil to use every week. he pulled up a small vial of oil that was about the size of my palm. And Ill fix this blade and then make you another weapon of your choice when you grow older. Everyone with authority needs a weapon, and I have a feeling that the son of a Guard Captain who can use mana without burning up is going to be going places.

It was a deal, and it only took the smith thirty seconds on the grind wheel to fix my mistake. When he handed me the ax head, it was shining as if it had just come off the factory floor.

Next we need a wood haft. We can get one from the pile of scrap over there. He pointed to the pile of scrap and cast off wood chips that my father regularly took from before it was burned by the smith for fuel. But this fine of an ax head I would hate to waste on trash wood. The smith scratched his beard in thought.

Ill keep my eyes open for something better. Ill try to bring something tomorrow, I said, and the smith clapped me on the back.

Good lad. Now, about them vials.

I had him show me the oil the hedge witch infused, and I tested whether I could reinfuse them to have both properties. After some experimenting, I found that I could. But it took a lot out of me. I could infuse regular oil by the bucket much easier than augmenting already infused oil.

When I told the smith this, he told me he didnt need buckets full. Just the vials he had ordered from the witch. So I finished infusing the one vial for the day. It nearly emptied me. I had to rest after that. I still helped clean the shop, and Id still help the smith do his daily work. But he agreed to do other simple projects, teach me about the process, and provide me basic materials free of charge as long as I provided the vials.

I thanked him, and by the time I was done, my father had arrived.

It was time for some more reading.