Blacksmithing Seattle Novels & Stories

The forge was hot and loud, but I was fascinated by the process of making jewelry—the same jewelry that Wendy wore every day. “This is incredible,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the noise. “How long have you been doing this?” The head blacksmith smiled, wiping sweat from his brow. “Since I was a pup. My father taught me, just like his father taught him.” I jotted down notes as the blacksmiths explained their work. They made a pair of earrings that day, delicately engraved silver with a lapis lazuli gem in the center. The head blacksmith boxed it up and handed it to me on the way out.

It had been a very taxing day. Kieran and I shut the car doors and I looked over to a workbench filled with scrap metal. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion as I noticed swords and metal work spewn over the table. It was as if someone had abandoned a bunch of metal projects and left them down in the garage for another time. "What's this?" I asked, feeling confused as I observed the bits of metal and what looked like pieces of jewelry and other metal work. "Oh, uh… when I have spare time I like to do some smelting and metal work," he explained, shuffling his feet with a sheepish look. I couldn't help but spin around to look at him with surprise. He made all of these?

They held no value in my eyes, unworthy of even a bronze coin from my pocket. However, I did have a dedicated blacksmith village that had pledged their allegiance to me long ago. Currently, they reside in the City of Light alongside Iris. Iris managed the core business and had expanded her ventures to include weapons and armor shops as part of her business endeavors. Indeed, while I couldn't recruit those local blacksmiths, my requirement wasn't for new weapon or armor creations. Rather, I sought skilled artisans for repairs and servicing—a crucial need in times of war. These exceptional craftsmen, blacksmiths, and armor makers were invaluable assets in any conflict.

“Our local blacksmith is a very mysterious Slayer, full of surprises, but a good fellow. He isn’t from around here but everybody adores him just the same. Oh, and have I mentioned he’s blind?” “Blind?!” Temujin and Aki echoed. “Oh yes, that’s right. Completely, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t challenge him to a spar though on account of that, for he can put any able-bodied Slayer to shame. Also, he very much prefers a simple and private life.” “Oh, I’ve heard of this blacksmith,” Sasha jumped in. “He’s the one who makes most of the blue Slayer suits by cooking the tree-drops in a stove. Somehow he knows how to combine fire and wind techniques.”

Now here he was a full grown man of probably twenty five now trying to get me in better shape than I was when I was his age. Marius returned, his facial expression had changed… it was tighter and even more focused than he had been. He nodded once at Damon. “We’ve got a possible lead. There’s a low profile blacksmith in Amber Brook reportedly sold a batch of trinkets to a rogue five days ago. The same style. No permits.” Damon’s gaze sharpened. “Trinkets? They’ve never used trinkets before, do you still think it’s a part of the ring?”

"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."

[System Message: You have watched Old Copper's display of the hammering technique ] [Due to your affinity for blacksmithing from the 'Crafting Master' Class, you have learned the skill ].

The ruined, roofless warehouses of Port Mercer, and the thirty-two souls gathered around the old brick kilns. He described the moment they opened Kat’s trade chest, the tears in the eyes of the young woodcutter as he held a hand-forged hickory-handled axe for the first time in years. "They aren't just surviving down there anymore," Theo said, looking around the full table at the sun-darkened faces of blacksmiths, woodcutters, gardeners, and travelers bound into one unyielding family. "They're swinging our axes to cut timber for new roofs before the autumn rains hit the bay. They're using our spades to turn the coastal soil. The coast is building again, and the road between us is open."