Under the brazing heat emitting from the furnace of forge, the blacksmith continued diligently in his work unaffected by the concept of heat around him.
He relentless hammered on a semisolidified molten metal. His immediate environs was adorned with metal trinkets and works of metal descent.
While the blacksmith continued on his forge, a young lad, not a year older than eighteen stood by the corner. Watching with a distant glint in his youthful eyes.
While they worked, two shadowy figures appeared from the darkness and revealed themselves once they were in the shack.
" Lespitus, friend, are the tolls of life hard on you. " Myron said in a cheerful voice. The blacksmith looked up. His face wrinkled by labor and suffering, his bald hair reflecting nothing but the flames orange light.
Still continuing his work he replied, " Myron, I pull through by the teachings of Plitus. "
" Hahahaha, you still follow that rebel's philosophy, pray the general doesn't overhear your statement." Myron said rounding up his pleasantries.
The blacksmith lowered his gaze to continue earnestly on his work. A moment of silence hung on the air, before the blacksmith said again. " So what do I owe the visit. "
" I am here to bond a slave. " Myron replied blankly. A hoarse grunt bellowed. " Artupie, retrieve the binding cuffs, and chains. " With that order the young boy left to a tent beyond the shack.
" I believe, you normally received a hoard of up to fifty slaves on every expedition you attend. " Lespitus asked, " Since they all die, I don't see the option of you bonding a slave that would die anyway. "
Myron chuckled and explained." This one is extremely special, he is my key to creating an immortal elixir. " The blacksmith looked at Myron, then at the orange haired boy behind him.
" I can't see his face clearly but he looks too beautiful to be a slave. Ahhh, fate and it's vices. Also has the bloodline of Tiw, are you sure he didn't descend from the heavens. " Lespitus asked again.
" In the morning we shall see what he looks like, now, I need his unwavering loyalty. " Myron replied. The blacksmith faced his work again and added, " He would make a fine warrior, I see the God of War's physique in him. "
" He was of the barbarian God of war, Tiw, now he shall be of the Varethian God of war, Mars. " Myron added, studying the boy besides him.
" I wish my son could be like him, all the lad do is nothing but disappoint me immensely. " The blacksmith said, his voice burdened by regret. Myron chuckled lightly.
" His just a child, friend, they grow, they develop. Your son might not be as useless as you preach he is." Myron replied heartily, " he looks strong, strong enough to carry on your trade."
The blacksmith scoffed, " Stronger yes but exceedingly more stubborn. "
Silence donned on the shade, nothing could be heard but the whispers of the bitting wind. " Varethia is falling. " Myron informed with a deep sense of regret in his voice.
" Its Dominion is immensely vast, and unknown to its people, it has already been split into two fractions. " Lespitus explained, " With the attacks of the Barbarian tribes, The Gothic states and The Othridian Empire. Varethia would only last a few more decades."
Myron sighed, " A few more decades might just be a contradiction. This reclaim would be the last battle I am involved in for the sake of Varethia. "
As the talked, the boy, Artupie walks in with a sack of clanking metals. He drops the bag and retrieved, a neck and wrists cuffs; all connected by metal links.
" Leave them their boy and begone with you. Tomorrow you resume your assistance, get some rest. " Lespitus said to his son. " I would stay father, I wish to experience the bonding of this slave. " Artupie replied.
The old blacksmith dropped his sledgehammer and glared