Gabriel stood in the training yard, holding the sword Roderic had given him. The morning light gleamed off the blade, casting long shadows on the ground. He ran his thumb along the edge, feeling the cold steel, the weight of it solid and reassuring in his grip. It was a fine sword, simple but well-crafted, and it felt like an extension of his own arm. He swung it a few times, testing the balance, the familiar sound of steel slicing through the air filling him with a sense of purpose.

Roderic watched him from the edge of the yard, a faint smile on his lips. Over the past years, he had seen Gabriel grow from a scared, grieving boy into a skilled young swordsman. The anger that had once driven Gabriel was still there, but now it was tempered with discipline, focused into every swing of his sword.

“You’ve come a long way, Gabriel,” Roderic said, stepping forward. “You’ve got the skill, but you still need to build more strength. Swordsmanship isn’t just about technique; it’s about power, too. Have you thought about how you’re going to get stronger?”

Gabriel nodded, sheathing his sword. He had been thinking about it for weeks, ever since Roderic had given him the real blade. “I want to work at the smithy,” Gabriel said. “If I can learn to forge weapons, I’ll get stronger. And I can earn some coin for when I leave.”

Roderic raised an eyebrow. “Leave? Where are you planning to go?”

Gabriel’s jaw set with determination. “The city. I want to become an adventurer. Join a guild, take on quests. I need to get out there, see the world, and find those orcs. I need to make sure no one else loses their home like I did.”

Roderic studied Gabriel for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. He saw the resolve in the young man’s face, the fire that burned in his eyes. It was the same fire that had driven him to train day after day, to push through the pain and fear. Gabriel was ready for the next step.

“Alright,” Roderic said, nodding. “Working at the smithy is a good idea. It’ll build up your muscles, teach you discipline. And it’s honest work. I’ll talk to Master Eamon, see if he can take you on as an apprentice.”

Gabriel’s face brightened, a rare smile breaking through his serious expression. “Thank you, Roderic. I won’t let you down.”

The next day, Gabriel followed Roderic to the blacksmith’s forge, a small stone building near the center of Calen’s Crossing. The forge was alive with the sounds of clanging metal and the roar of the furnace. The air was thick with the smell of hot iron and smoke. Gabriel’s heart quickened with excitement as they approached, the thought of working here filling him with anticipation.

Inside the forge, Master Eamon stood by the anvil, his massive arms bare, his skin glistening with sweat. He was a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a bald head, his eyes sharp and bright. He hammered away at a piece of glowing metal, each strike sending sparks flying. When he saw Roderic and Gabriel, he paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“Roderic,” Eamon grunted, setting down his hammer. “What brings you here?”

Roderic stepped forward, gesturing to Gabriel. “This is Gabriel, from Briarwood. He’s been training with me, and he wants to learn the trade. He’s a hard worker, and he could use some muscle. I thought you might take him on as an apprentice.”

Eamon looked Gabriel up and down, his eyes narrowing. “Hmm,” he grunted, rubbing his chin. “You’ve got the build for it, lad. Swinging a hammer’s no easy work. You ready for that?”

Gabriel nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir. I’m ready to work hard.”

Eamon snorted, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll see about that. Alright, you can start tomorrow. Be here at dawn. And don’t be late. I don’t tolerate slackers.”

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Gabriel’s face lit up with gratitude. “Thank you, Master Eamon. I won’t let you down.”

Eamon grunted again, picking up his hammer. “You’d better not. Now, off with you. I’ve got work to do.”

The next morning, Gabriel arrived at the forge before dawn, the first light of the sun just peeking over the horizon. He stood outside, listening to the early morning sounds of the town, his heart beating with anticipation. When Eamon arrived, he gave Gabriel a nod of approval.

“Good,” Eamon said. “You’re on time. That’s a start. Now, let’s see what you’re made of.”

Eamon wasted no time putting Gabriel to work. He started with the bellows, pumping air into the forge to keep the fire hot. It was hard, repetitive work, and soon Gabriel’s arms ached from the effort. But he kept at it, his jaw set with determination.

After the bellows, Eamon had Gabriel hauling sacks of coal, feeding the furnace to keep the flames roaring. Gabriel’s back strained under the weight, sweat pouring down his face. His muscles burned, but he pushed through the pain, refusing to stop. This was his path to strength, his way to prepare for the battles he knew lay ahead.

Days turned into weeks, and Gabriel’s body began to change. His arms grew thicker, his shoulders broader. The muscles in his back and legs hardened from the constant lifting and hammering. He moved with a newfound strength, his movements confident and sure. Eamon watched him with approval, seeing the potential in the young apprentice.

Once Gabriel had mastered the basics, Eamon began to teach him the art of forging. He showed Gabriel how to heat the metal until it was glowing hot, how to shape it with hammer and anvil. Gabriel learned to temper the blade, to quench it in oil or water, to sharpen the edge until it gleamed. He crafted nails, horseshoes, and simple tools, each piece better than the last.

Eamon was a demanding teacher, quick to correct Gabriel’s mistakes, but he was also patient. He recognized the hunger in Gabriel’s eyes, the need to prove himself. Under Eamon’s guidance, Gabriel’s skill grew. He forged his first dagger, then a short sword, each weapon a testament to his growing mastery.

In the evenings, after the day’s work was done, Gabriel would practice with his sword in the training yard. The weight of the blade felt different now, his muscles stronger, his grip firmer. He moved with a grace and power that had not been there before, each swing and thrust a reminder of his progress.

Months passed, and Gabriel’s reputation as a hard worker spread through Calen’s Crossing. The townspeople watched him with admiration, seeing the young man who had arrived as a grieving boy now standing tall and strong. He had earned their respect, not just through his skill with the sword but through his dedication and determination.

One day, as Gabriel stood at the anvil, hammering out the shape of a new blade, Eamon approached him, his expression serious.

“Gabriel,” Eamon said, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve been with me for nearly a year now, and you’ve proven yourself a fine smith. But I can see the restlessness in you. You’ve got the skill and strength. What’s next for you?”

Gabriel set down his hammer, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked at Eamon, his expression resolute. “I want to leave for the city,” he said. “I’ve saved enough coin. I’m going to register as an adventurer. Join a guild, take on quests. I want to see the world, to find the orcs that destroyed my home. I want to make a difference.”

Eamon nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I thought as much. You’ve got the fire in you, lad. But remember, the world out there is dangerous. More dangerous than anything you’ve faced. Keep your wits about you. And never forget the lessons you’ve learned here.”

Gabriel smiled, gratitude in his eyes. “I won’t, Master Eamon. Thank you for everything. You’ve taught me more than just how to forge metal. You’ve taught me how to forge myself.”

Eamon grunted, patting Gabriel on the shoulder. “Go on, then. Make your mark on the world. And when you come back, I expect to hear stories of your adventures.”

That night, Gabriel packed his belongings, his heart filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. He had saved enough coin from his work at the smithy to last him for a while. He packed his sword, the dagger he had forged himself, and a few essentials. The rest he would find on the road.

As dawn broke, Gabriel stood at the gate of Calen’s Crossing, looking back at the town that had been his home for the past few years. He felt a pang of sadness, but also a sense of readiness. This town had given him the chance to heal, to grow strong, but now it was time to move on.

Roderic was waiting for him at the gate, leaning on his spear. He smiled as Gabriel approached, clapping him on the back.

“So, you’re really leaving, then?” Roderic said, his tone light but with a hint of sadness.

Gabriel nodded, his expression determined.