Blacksmith Wage Novels & Stories

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.

A while later, under Quincey’s guidance, Andrius found a shop. “You want to rent a forge?” The owner glanced at Andrius and said, “A hundred silvers a day, or sixty for half a day.” Silvers... Andrius was stumped. He did not have any silver on him

“Two and a half.” “One hour forty-five.” The blacksmith rubbed his face. “You’re insane.” Michelle said nothing. He swore. “Fine. But you stay. If I leave you here alone and someone comes asking questions, I lose my licence. You stay. You don’t leave.” Michelle didn’t trust him enough to leave anyway. She nodded. “I stay.” He got to work. The forge roared to life, metal heating to red flame. Sparks burst. The air thickened with heat and smoke. Michelle sat on a stool against the wall, hands folded, mind sharp.

"If you were going to guide him and also be his sparring partner, you must be compensated. The Earl of Silverstone's wife is known for being generous. I'd say you could earn three to five silver coins a month." Travis' eyes were suddenly filled with a compassionate warmth. "To be honest, I don't take on just anyone as an apprentice, nor do I care much for that paltry amount of money. Three or five silver coins isn't much at all. But it seems there aren't many capable people in the Earl of Silverstone's family. I've heard that Oliver's martial arts are just average. If there isn't a rising talent, how could the title be passed on? Bring him to me. Three or five silver coins—it doesn't matter.

People came away from the spot with strips, slabs and gong mallets of meat, occasionally hung on wooden sticks perched on their shoulders. It was brought to Aki and Temujin’s attention that the village blacksmith had begun working on the armor they requested, as soon as he had received the pieces of dragon scale. The intriguing craftsman who had knowledge of fire applications wouldn’t be joining the festivities planned for the night, they were also told, in order to meet the deadline of three days or earlier.

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.

“Three percent, to be precise, it might change at noon.” “Interest is 12, still better than in most places. I must returned 145, 6 silver pieces, not counting tax rates and the cost of transporting the coins, the transfer fee when the king paid us, the silver tax, and the cost of processing the contract.” “True.” “It all sums up to three hundred silver pieces.” “Will you accept?” “I have nothing else to do. We have a deal.” The banker counted the coins and handed them to the woman. The craftsmen stood and waited for the costumers to come to them, most of them were working.

However, his expertise in forging iron and other minerals made it difficult for him to be replaced by other blacksmiths. As a baby, Berk was thrown away not far from where Bowen worked as a blacksmith. Bowen was a stocky dwarf with a long golden beard that was neatly braided. He loved creating and forging weapons for hours on end. His expertise was very well known throughout the human and non-human world. When he found baby Berk, who had nearly died of starvation, Bowen took him home. He gave the baby milk and carried him on his back when he worked. That's how Berk was raised. He became a skilled blacksmith just like Bowen, his adoptive father, The Genius Blacksmith.

Mira got out of the Jeep along with Griffin. “Miss Red, it was good to see you again,” The older man greeted her. To the others, he was just an old man working with the outlaws. To those who knew him, he was a well-known businessman. They called him ‘The Blacksmith’. Nobody knew his real background or real name. He designed, created, and supplied weapons—guns, bow and arrow, swords and anything that made it into a killing tool. He did this for the right price. Nobody did a free job anymore because everything was a business.

I said, and the miners stared at me with admiration. Damien took me to every department of the mine, and I saw men with bodies glistening with sweat, working very hard to get the gold. Others were casting irons for filling. "This is not easy. I appreciate you making an effort to make sure that I have a good necklace." I called out, and they erupted into cheers. "We enjoyed making it." They replied, and I beamed at them. "How much do their wages cost?" I asked Damien, and he shrugged. "Depending on the gold produced It ranges from 500 to 1000 dollars upward."