Blacksmith Pay Novels & Stories

As they waited, Sethlzaar found himself wondering what his mates were doing back at the seminary and how Soartin was. The Blacksmith spoke little, using his words to give the briefest of instruction that Sethlzaar would at times find himself having to work his brain to understand. When the blacksmith considered the forge hot enough he plunged a metal into the forge, holding it with a pair of iron tongs, watching as it took on a similar glow as the coal. Then he placed it on the anvil and struck it countless times with a hammer, bending it to shape as he pleased. By the life of Sethlzaar, he watched as the blacksmith hammered and flipped the metal in different ways, and understood nothing of

he exclaimed. His admiration caught me off guard. I hadn't expected such enthusiasm for my design. "Can you make it?" I asked simply, avoiding his question. The blacksmith nodded vigorously. "Yes! Of course, but give me three days." Relief flooded through me. With this weapon, I would never again be as defenseless as I'd been when William attacked me. "How much will it cost?" I asked, already mentally calculating how much of my newly acquired money I could spare. "Two hundred dollars," he replied.

“I haven’t made weapons in many... many years.” “That isn’t the only reason,” I stated, watching the man lift the hammer again. “You didn’t want to work for them. Why?” The strike against the metal echoed loudly through the workshop before he answered. The Blacksmith took several seconds, focused on shaping the heated bar over the anvil as though deciding how much he should say. “Most people think every witch is the same,” he finally replied. “But they aren’t.” Another blow. Sparks leaped across the darkened floor.

"And I need work" "I don't have any coins to give you" "Food is fine" I tell him wiping my hands against my skirt, taking up a few metals in hand and carrying them to his furnace. The swordsmith watches me beneath his lashes, hammering away with his anvil as he molds the metal to his liking. "Dinner isn't until dusk" he grumbles. My stomach immediately begins to complain but I bite my tongue attending to the work at hand. That's fine" "Mhm, we'll see" The old man grumbles to himself.

From what regions did he come, and most importantly, what is he doing here in Miros, what does he need? His fingers trembled as he carefully took his measurements. “It will be ready by morning,” the blacksmith said in a hoarse voice. "I'll be back at dawn," the werewolf said calmly, wrapping the sword back in the cloth. His eyes glittered with silver sparks. You will receive a decent salary for your work. Zoran nodded, but then suddenly shook his head and spoke. - No need. I don't need a fee. But, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to follow you.

Anyone would think that Victor was playing a prank on them. "$4,000 should be enough, right? This is a $2,000 deposit. I want you to use your best alloy." Victor pulled out a stack of bills. Nothing was more convincing than cash. "You..." The boss was at a loss looking at the money. The guy wasn't there to mess with him? He was paying cash? "Can you do it?" "Yeah, we can, but we can't sharpen the blade." Making an alloy blade wasn't hard, there wasn't much skill involved. He was paying too much, though.

It was widely acknowledged that blacksmiths residing near the borders were among the finest, second only to those in the capital city. As soon as I entered the blacksmiths' workshop, all of them halted their work and converged around me, wearing welcoming smiles and displaying flattery in their demeanor. Their eager eyes gleamed with anticipation, almost as if they could see gold coins flashing before them, presuming I was a significant customer. They proudly presented their best weapons and armors, handling them delicately and appraising them as though they were priceless treasures. However, despite their enthusiasm, I couldn't help feeling disappointed.

“Forging in itself is not a difficult thing. That can be easily done.” Phoebe kept shaking her head, and she said, “It’s not as easy as you think. This volcanic metal isn’t normal metal, so it’s difficult to forge it. If you’re not careful, you’ll break it. Only an excellent swordsmith can do it well. Based on what I know, there’s a swordsmith like that in this area, and he’s the only capable one. His name is Brighton Cook.” Thomas remembered the name “Brighton Cook” deeply.

"I only have 50 silver coins to offer you, Eva, as I said at the start." Eva looked a little confused for a second before she remembered he had told her his budget was 50 silvers. "That's right... I'm such an airhead." She said as she bumped herself on the noggin. "I'm sorry. Let's call it 50 silvers then, as long as you promise to always use me as your blacksmith." She suddenly said giving him a thumbs up and a wink. Xolvion smiled and nodded. "That's a deal." He said looking into her blue eyes.

The daggers were smooth and sharp, it was cold and carried a lethal aura. "We'll take three of the daggers, twenty arrows and two bows, and this sword." The blacksmith nodded and placed the ordered items from the rest. "Three daggers:thirty gold coins, twenty arrows....: fifty silver, Two bows: twenty five sliver, One black grade sword: twenty five gold coins." The blacksmith list the prices of the weapons. Madeline frowned she had all but sliver coins, she had given all of them to Theodora and Fredrick.