Benjamin Blacksmith Shop Novels & Stories

"It only knows the strike. It only knows the truth of the metal." He looked at the front row—a group of blacksmiths and silversmiths. "You know my father's name. Thomas Silas. You know the House of Aris has been selling you brittle steel and hollow gold for three years. I am the man who stayed in that 'dirt' to make sure the work remained true, even when my name was stolen."

Gabriella asked. “The blacksmith isn't an abyss demon, so your new alpha aura won't affect him. His power may seem a lot like that of an abyss demon, but he's far from one,” Margret replied. ~Present~ “Hey,” Gabriella said as she stepped forward. The blacksmith stood quietly, staring directly at Gabriella. Black smoke rose from his body into the air, and small sparks flew out in random directions. “Something is wrong here,” Derren said. “What do you mean?” Angela asked.

then a system notification appears in my front -A BLACKSMITHING PRODIGY HAS BEEN BORN, BAPTIZE BY THE FLAME AND UNYIELDING WILL TO YIELD TO ANY HARDSHIP, THE WORLD IS WATCHING YOURE GREATNESS AND SINGING A TRUMPET FOR THE FUTURE LEGENDARY BLACKSMITH!- -TITLE ADDED: APPRENTICE BLACKSMITH- GIVES 6DEX TO THE USER- -BONUS REWARD TO RESURFACING THE LEGENDARY BLACKSMITH PRODUCTION METHOD, THE HUNDRED REFINED HAMMER WILL BECOME THOUSAND REFINED HAMMER!-

" A man dressed in a vest rushed up to relieve the cashier. He was dressed clean compared to the blacksmiths, and I assumed he was one of the managers or assistant managers. "I'm sorry about that, sir," said the man. "Please follow me." He led us to the back of the shop through the forge. It had been a while since I had been in one. Strange enough, I enjoyed blacksmithing. It was a calming activity. There was just something about hammering the metal into the shape I wanted that centered myself. Each hit pulled me closer inside like a blanket folding in on itself. The man took us behind the forge into a room where they kept the invoices and documents for the Anvil. It smelled of older paper.

"Think with your head for once and not your—" "Drift," Sable said. Drift stopped. Sable looked at him steadily. "Go get the horses." Drift went. Caya watched him leave with the expression of a woman filing something away for later. Orren the blacksmith was at the south end of the settlement in a structure that announced itself half a mile away by smell alone — hot metal, coal smoke, the particular thick air of a place where fire was kept burning all day and most of the night. He was a small man, which surprised Sable every time even after three years of knowing him. Small and compact and completely unbothered by the heat rolling off the forge in waves that made the air warp. He looked up whe

"I was beginning to think I lost my way." We walked towards a store with a sign hanging crookedly at the front Don Blacksmith, etched in faded gold letters that had long since chipped away with time. The wooden sign creaked as it swung with the wind, one hinge barely holding on. The building itself was old, made of soot-stained brick, its front blackened with years of smoke and heat. The heavy oak doors were propped open with two large metal barrels to keep it from swaying in the wind. Inside, there was a glow of orange from the fire they used to forge metal. The shop smelt of molten metal and burning coal.

I pushed past the thick leather curtains of the primary foundry, the intense heat of the burning coal instantly warming my freezing skin as the smell of molten steel filled my lungs. Dozens of skilled blacksmiths were working diligently around the massive stone anvils, their muscular bodies covered in soot as they forged the defensive armor plates and the silver-tipped spears that our pack was famous for. I marched straight toward the center of the main workshop, my powerful aura immediately drawing the attention of the workers who quickly lowered their tools in deep respect.