The walk to the East Wing of the mansion was silent. The morning air was still cool, but the sun was rising higher, promising a hot day.
Eon, Liam, and Kaelen moved quickly, their shadows stretching long across the stone pathways. They passed through a heavy, ivy-covered gate that led to a section of the estate that had clearly been forgotten by time.
They stopped in front of a low, stone building. It was tucked away behind several large oak trees, almost completely hidden from the main house. This was the old forge.
The heavy oak door was swollen with moisture and age. Eon stepped forward and pushed. The hinges let out a high-pitched, rusted scream that echoed through the quiet trees. As the door swung open, a thick cloud of gray dust billowed out, making everyone cough and shield their eyes.
"It's been a long time since anyone stood in here," Eon whispered, stepping inside.
The forge room was a ghost of the past. Huge spiderwebs hung like curtains from the ceiling beams. A thick layer of soot and dust covered every surface, hiding the shape of the tools beneath. In the center of the room stood the great hearth, the forge itself. It was built of blackened brick, its wide mouth cold and empty. To the side sat a massive stone anvil, and beside it, a large tub for water that was now filled with nothing but dry leaves and dirt.
They spent the first hour preparing. A forge is not just a fireplace; it is a machine made of stone and wind. Kaelen climbed behind the large leather bags called the bellows. He checked the wooden frame and the leather skin.
"The leather is dry," Kaelen said, his voice echoing. "If we pump it now, it will rip."
Eon quickly used his Inventory skill to pull out a jar of fat they had taken from the kitchen. Kaelen rubbed the grease into the leather until it became soft and bendable. Meanwhile, Liam cleared the "tuyere", the pipe that carries air from the bellows into the heart of the fire. It was blocked with old bird nests and ash. Once the pipe was clear, the "lungs" of the forge were ready.
Next came the fuel. Liam piled the high-quality coal into the center of the stone hearth. He started with small pieces of dry wood and paper. Kaelen stepped forward. He didn't use a match. He held his hand near the wood and whispered someting.
Whoosh. The wood caught fire instantly.
Having removed their slave collars, almost all of them could use magic now, more or less. Most of them could only use basic magic like lighting a room or igniting a fire, or fill a glass of water with long chants etc.
So Eon wasn't surprised to see a smith like Kaelen using basic fire spell.
Kaelen then began to pump the bellows.
Hooo-pah. Hooo-pah.
The air rushed into the coal. The small orange flame turned into a bright, angry yellow. Then, as the coal began to burn hot, the fire turned a blinding white. The temperature in the room climbed so fast that Eon's skin began to sting. The smell of sulfur and burning stone filled the air.
"Now," Kaelen said, his face glowing in the firelight. "We prepare the iron."
Kaelen took several chunks of raw iron ore, dark, heavy rocks filled with impurities. He placed them into a thick pot.
"If we just heat the iron, it will be weak," Kaelen explained to Eon, who was watching every move. "We must melt it completely to let the 'slag', the junk, rise to the top."
Kaelen used long iron tongs to slide the pot into the very center of the white flames. They waited for nearly an hour. The heat was so intense that the air above the forge began to wobble and shake.
Inside the pot, the solid rocks began to change. First, they turned a dull red, then a bright cherry red, then a shimmering lemon yellow. Finally, the iron turned into a liquid. It looked like thick, glowing orange soup.
Kaelen used a small iron rod to skim the "slag" off the top. The junk looked like black glass floating on the liquid sun. Once the iron was pure, he was ready for the pour.
With steady, shaking hands, Kaelen pulled the pot out. The heat was so great that Eon had to cover his face. Kaelen tipped the pot, pouring the liquid iron into a long, rectangular stone mold. It hissed and spat tiny sparks. This created a "billet", a raw bar of iron.
Once the bar was solid but still glowing red, Kaelen flipped the mold. The heavy bar clattered onto the stone floor. Kaelen didn't let it cool. He picked it up with tongs and placed it on the massive stone anvil.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. Kaelen picked up the Adamantium hammer.
CRACK!
The first hit sounded like a lightning strike. Because the hammer was made of Adamantium, it didn't just move the metal; it compressed it. Kaelen began the process of folding. He hammered the bar flat, then heated it again until it was soft. Then, he used a chisel to cut a line in the middle and folded the metal over itself, like a piece of paper.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"Why fold it?" Eon asked, covering his ears.
"Every time I fold it, I am squeezing out tiny bubbles of air and bits of dirt," Kaelen shouted over the noise. "And I am layering the metal. A blade with a thousand layers is a hundred times stronger than a solid block."
Kaelen repeated this five times. The iron was now dense, pure, and incredibly tough. Now, he began to draw out the shape. He hit the end of the bar to make it move forward, creating a long, tapered point. Then, he used the slanted side of the hammer to create the bevels, the slanted parts that lead to the sharp edge.
Eon watched the rhythm. He noticed how Kaelen never hit the metal when it turned dark red. "It must be bright orange to move," Eon muttered to himself. "If it's too cold, it will crack. If it's too hot, it will burn and turn to sparks."
He felt like he was beginning to understand how smithing works.
The dagger was now shaped. It had a sharp point, a thick spine for strength, and two flat sides ready for grinding. But it was still "soft." If Eon tried to cut something now, the edge would simply bend. It needed the Heat Treatment.
Kaelen placed the finished blade back into the forge. He watched the color with the eyes of a hawk.
"Steel has a memory," Kaelen whispered. "I must heat it until it reaches 'Critical Temperature.' If it's a cherry-red color, then it means the metal is starting to get stronger.."
When the blade reached a beautiful, glowing red, Kaelen moved fast. Beside the anvil was a bucket of old vegetable oil.
"Cover your eyes!" Kaelen warned. He plunged the hot blade into the oil.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
A massive pillar of black smoke and fire erupted toward the ceiling. The oil bubbled and hissed violently. This was the Quench. By cooling the metal instantly, the metal gets stronger, otherwise all of this will be for nothing.
When Kaelen pulled the blade out, it was black and covered in burnt oil. He cleaned it off, revealing a gray, stony-looking metal. He took a file and tried to rub it against the edge. The file just slid off with a high-pitched skreeeee sound.
"It is hard," Kaelen said. "Too hard. If I dropped it now, it would shatter like glass. Now, we must Temper it."
He placed the blade near the edge of the fire, not in the center. He watched as the metal changed colors again, not from heat, but from the "temper." The gray metal turned a pale straw yellow, then a light blue.
"Blue is for springs. Straw yellow is for knives," Kaelen said. He pulled it away from the heat. The blade was now both hard enough to hold an edge and flexible enough not to break.
Finally, Kaelen spent an hour using a whetstone, a rough sharpening stone, to grind the edges. He used water to keep the blade cool as he rubbed the stone back and forth.
Swish. Swish. Swish. Slowly, the dull gray metal began to shine like a mirror.
For the hilt, Kaelen took a small piece of iron and shaped it into a "crossguard" to protect the hand. He slid it onto the tang (the back part of the blade) and then wrapped the handle in thick, dark leather. He hammered a small metal cap, a "pommel," onto the very end to balance the weight.
Kaelen held the finished dagger up. The sun, through the forge window hit the blade, and a line of light ran from the hilt to the tip. It was beautiful. It was a weapon of war.
He handed it to Eon.
Eon felt the weight. It was light, fast, and incredibly sharp. He touched the edge with his thumb, and it drew a tiny drop of blood before he even felt the pressure.
He was impressed by Kaelens craftsmanship. Although it was a lengthy process, but seeing and holding the final product made him form a smile on his lips.
Author note: How did you like this detailed smithing process. Do I make more of this type of chapter later, or should i just follow along the story as earlier, just fast-forwarding the details of behind the scenes crafts? Make sure to suggest your ideas.
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