After he got down from his father’s embrace Ciaran looked to Mr burton. From material research to design and prototype Ciaran had spent so many hours at Mr Burton’s shop, and now the burly man stood holding a small wooden box. Inside that wooden box surely lay all his effort, it would even have a handle.
Even in his Joy Ciaran still felt that something was off, and he looked to the man for answers. Mr Burton smiled before opening his jolly mouth.
“Ciaran Andreas Realta, I Mathias Burton as a qualified association blacksmith who has attained the twelfth level of advanced mastership present to you… your proof and project that you have attained the rank of a first level apprentice smith.”
Mr Burton then gave the box to the boy, allowing him to open it as he continued.
“With your rank you are qualified to the following: first a registration under the blacksmithing association of. secondly you are qualified to seek further training under a qualified blacksmith. Thirdly you have fulfilled the legal requirements to inherit property as a commoner. Fourth, according to the smithing opportunities act you are now eligible to sell your products legally… fifth… sixth…”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Through Mr Burton’s ramblings Ciaran mainly focused on the ornate axe that now lay before him. the blade had many curves and curls on the edges while the body of the blade was round and bare of decor. The body of the axe head was decorated with some basic engravings, Ciaran’s favourite was the squiggly line he called a river. Ciaran was content with most of his axe, but he didn’t like the handle. The handle in all its dark, smooth and lovable nature took Ciaran’s eyes away from all his effort, but he couldn’t hate it either.
Other than decorations the handle also had on it a few lines of text, first was his name but below that was something else. ‘LEVEL ONE APRENTICE SMITH proof of qualification’ was engraved clearly on one side of the handle. It finally dawned on him how far he had come, to get any further he would need to use Aether. Ciaran didn’t like the thought of being stagnant for four years, but he decided to forget that and enjoy the moment.
That night Ciaran would have had his first glass of alcohol, if it weren’t for his mother’s protests, and his brother’s presence that is. but even without the burn of alcohol everything felt warm within the manor. It was not just the hearth that burned, nor the yellow that spilled out from lamps. Ciaran couldn’t put his finger on it, he just knew that he was happy, and that something deep down was content with everything in that moment.