Blacksmith Wage Novels & Stories

I wanted to look as normal as possible. “So, I heard you're a blacksmith. How long have you been a blacksmith if you do not mind me asking?” I asked him. “I became an apprentice at the age of six and learnt everything from my master then. I stopped a few years ago when I noticed there was no high need for a blacksmith and became a technician instead,” he explained. There was something that bothered me though. He still had not told me the pack he came from. I knew he wanted to keep his pack a secret but I could not hire someone whom I didn't know which pack he was from or if he came from an enemy's pack.

My whole armor cost me exactly 1 pound sterling at the smithy. No, it’s no bargain. You have to keep in mind that here in the Dark Ages, 1 pound is a whole lot of moolah. It’s actually equivalent to approximately 60 days of grinding for me. To those of you who don’t know game-speak, let me explain. Grinding is the cycle of defeating monster bosses, collecting silver and items, and buying gear.

What if he’d used some other compound and the bullets weren’t really silver at all? She considered what had happened that day so long ago when she’d thought Ragnar was close on her trail and she’d found a smithy working at his anvil, his large, sinewy hands pumping the bellows to heat the fire. The sign hanging above the blacksmith’s shop in the Arizona town proudly advertised his skills: wrought iron work, horse shoeing, wagon fixing, wagon wheels, pulling teeth. But all she’d cared about was whether or not he could make bullets. Silver bullets.

he scratched his head, “We need someone to do the heavy lifting around here and you seem to have some muscles or maybe fat in there.” Was I just insulted? “Oh! I thought as much,” I looked at my hand. In my real life, I wouldn’t have much problem with working hard. Avri has such soft baby hands that I don’t think she had ever done any hard lifting all her life. I guess her best bet would be her bulky body. “How much would I get paid?” I questioned raising my hopes a little. “Hundred bucks per week.” “Are you kidding! Is that some kind of modern day slavery?”

"Anything! Something! 'Hey Lola, my life is falling apart, maybe come over?' That would have worked!" I leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I thought I could handle it." "Handle it? You're being blackmailed by a teenager." "He's not a teenager. He just graduated. He's nineteen." "Oh, that makes it so much better." I closed my eyes. "He's paying me." Her brows shot up. "What's he paying you?" "7.25 an hour." Lola choked on her wine. "Minimum wage? He's blackmailing you for minimum wage?"

As if sensing my thoughts, he sighed. "I have to spend a few days in the workshop. Chief has ordered all-new weapons to be made." He explained. Nodding, I took a deep breath. "Are you being paid?" The shake of his head had anger boiling in my veins. "Then you are not to do it. How does he expect you to put everything aside and not pay you?" Sighing, father stood. "I have no other choice, Anna." "What about the other blacksmith?" I didn't understand why the chief just didn't have one of the other men do it?

She shivered and looked away. As they turned down another street, the entire block was filled with blacksmiths. Everywhere flew anvils and hammers, and the ping of metal rang throughout the street, each blacksmith seeming to echo the other. There were also clay pits with large flames roasting slabs of red-hot metal, on which they were forging horseshoes, swords, and all sorts of metal work. Caitlin noticed the faces of children, black with soot, sitting by their father’s sides, watching them work. She felt badly that the children worked at such a young age. Caitlin looked everywhere for a sign of Scarlet, of her Dad, of any clue of why they were here—but she found none.

Without saying a word, he walked back to where the villagers were gathered and watched as the blacksmiths checked out the metals. Out of the metals that were seen spread on the ground, the blacksmiths only picked out bronze, silver, iron, steel, and aluminum. They selected them and dropped them aside and turned to look at Ethan who was closely watching them. "I think these would be perfect to make ammunition" one of them said to Ethan who nodded and turned to face the spokesperson of the villagers. "Please, take those inside the cottage" he said to his men while looking at the spokesperson. Boston, George, and the other two blacksmiths took the metals inside while Ethan remained with the vil

“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.