Over four years had passed since Cragthor became a “proper smithing apprentice”. The man whose hammer Cragthor tried to steal was the only survivor of the lightning strike oh so long ago. Apparently, metal magic was a bad matchup for primordial electricity.
Cragthor had learned much over the years, from how to properly wield a smithing hammer with only three fingers, to speaking human words correctly. Cragthor had also learned that sentient and/or sapient Abominations were not unheard of, but people rarely met them as they had a tendency to keep to themselves in the Swamplands.
“It’s not that they’re minless beasts or nothin’, it’s just that there ain’t nothin’ we needs from them, nor they from us, so it’s perfetly unnerstanable that we all just keep to ourselves and whatnot,” Cragthor’s Forge Master would say. The Forge Master would also say strange things about the metal being alive, and that only the True Fates would dictate who could be a proper smith, but he stopped after Cragthor passed the “Smithing Affinity Test”.
The SATs consisted of a written test about the application of various metals and what they would be used for (black iron for armor and shields, silver and gold for jewelry and enchanting, copper for kitchenwares, and so on), and a practical test of forging and smithing said materials. Unfortunately, Cragthor failed for four years straight, but the Forge Master saw potential in them and decided to teach them everything he knew anyway.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
And so time came to pass. Forging, cooking, word speakin’, clothes making and mending, and other countless skills and general knowledge about life and living in the Capital city. And many stories of life there as well. Stories of the Forge Master’s own journey as an apprentice, and how he cheated to pass his SATs, not that he was ever caught, of course.
“Although, I do think that my own teacher knew, which is why he always tested me in his own little ways, like mixing up black iron and pig iron on the shelves, adding copper to platypantium, and… huh. Now that I think about it, he might’ve been an idiot. I’ll have to ask him next time we meet.” The Forge Master reminisced one day.
———----------------------------------
Anyway, Cragthor had finally passed their SATs, and with their new clothes that made them look like a plague doctor, they set off to the capital, to work for the Forge Master’s master. And though the trip would be long and hard, we can sort of skip over that part and say that Cragthor made it safe and sound to the capital, and was immediately sent to work under the Forge Master of the Capital, who we’ll just call “ForMa” for now.
Executive dysfunction hit the Author hard just before the deadline, and now he’s scrambling for inspiration he knows will not return until it is too late. And so the chapter is posted.