Forged Destiny [Book 3: Ch. 6]

It was the first time I'd forged something in what felt like weeks.

There was something beautiful about working with metal. Maybe I was biased, but I certainly thought there was. The metal would come out cherry red from the fire, and then spark as I struck it with the hammer. It would slowly yield, forming the shape I wanted.

It would be rough, however. Very rough. I was working on my breastplate, but no one would have recognised it as being that. The silvery metal was now black and marked, with pocks and raised spots all across it, an uneven and puckered surface from a hundred or more strikes. Scale, ash and soot clung to it, too, making it an ugly and dirty thing.

It would remain that way until long after it was heat treated, only revealing the gleaming steel beneath once I took a file to it. Back in Ansel, I could remember people unfamiliar with the craft looking horrified at the bumpy, ugly and rough things my father forged. I also recalled their faces turning to awe when the outside was ground away, revealing smooth and shining tools capable of withstanding incredible wear.

I shook my head at the nostalgia, my hands moving automatically to draw the plate out and check it.

[...]

"Hmm, you're looking good," I said, talking to the armour like it was an old friend. "How does that feel? You're at least twice as thick now. Twice as heavy, too…"

[...]

I worked in silence for another thirty minutes or so, bringing the armour out over a raising tool and hammering it into its curved shape. It was then another half an hour to planish it flat, rolling the steel between two wheels that pinched it together.

[...]

Well, Runes or not, this would be a lot stronger than it had been before. I put it on some tongs and lowered it back into the coals, waiting until it raised so hot it burned orange. Normally, that would have been the time to set it in a kiln for an hour or more to gather heat, before it would be quenched into water or oil.

Fortunately, I could skip that step. I drew it out instead, gripping the edges and closing my eyes. My hands heated, bringing it up to temperature. That was only the first stage, of course. I then had to focus on one of my first Skills – Heat Treat. It was part of a duo, Heat Treat and Quench. The knowledge behind it was of hardening and softening of parts of the steel, but the basic rundown was that one hardened, and then the other softened.

Once the armour glowed orange, I reversed the flow – using Quench instead. It hissed in my hands, steam billowing off it. Fire licked out too, burning in the air for a moment before it was snuffed out by all the oxygen being stolen away.

[...]

I had an armour-shaped hunk of dirty, burned and rough metal. It looked more like it had been carved from granite, with all the surface of the rock still included.

Perfect.

Well, sort of perfect. One Skill I'd not gained was Instant Grinding, which meant that I'd need to file the whole damn thing by hand. That would take an hour or two, and would have exhausted just about anyone else. Luckily, I had Strength and Constitution in large amounts, the two Stats which would help me most, and thus the two Stats Blacksmiths across Remnant had been born specialising in.

"You'll be strong after this," I chuckled, ringing a knuckle against the metal. The tone it made was sharp, but not brittle. Good. That meant the metal had softened enough to absorb blows, rather than rejecting them. It wouldn't splinter and fracture.

[...]

I sighed, allowing my hands to file while my attention wandered.

[...]

The file I was working with paused.

[...]

"Ugh… back to filing I go."

[...]

It was an hour or so later than I finished the filing, and then excused myself from the forge.

—Forged Destiny [Book 3: Ch. 6]