"Feel the metal as you strike it!"

Irwin grunted as he held the tongs with his left hand, bringing the hammer down on the chunk of Degnin Iron. It flattened at the top as the reverberations ran from his wrist through his arm.

Keeping his eye on the metal, he struck it again, forcing his weary arm to comply. He knew that Trimdir stood to the side, staring at him, and if he relaxed even the slightest, he'd start shouting again.

"Listen to the metal after you hit it. It rings like a bell if it's pure-"

Irwin heard a high tink that echoed after as Trimdir tapped a completed ingot onto an anvil.

"- and clanks if it's not."

A dull thud came as his hammer struck the iron, flattening it further, the sound coinciding with Trimdir's words.

"Like that."

I know already, Irwin thought as he gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the sensation of the hammer striking the iron and the ringing after. After another ten hits, he thought he heard a slight difference, but it could just be his imagination.

He had been hitting the same bloody piece of iron all afternoon, and besides proving he wasn't even remotely as strong as Trimdir, who could flatten it in a dozen hits, he wasn't sure he was really making any progress.

"Alright, enough," Trimdir finally said.

Irwin lowered the hammer, breathing raggedly as he felt the heat of the nearby forge wash over him. Sweat dripped from his forehead and ran down his bare back. If it weren't so hot in here, his pants would have been drenched by now.

Trimdir nodded as he walked forward and inspected the iron. "Alright. From now on, you will hammer iron for an hour when you arrive," the smith said, nodding. "As soon as you can flatten it this thin-" he held his fingers apart less than an inch, "-within an hour, we will continue."

And now you are going to actually teach me? Irwin thought, unable to hold the hopeful look from his face. Purifying couldn't just be hammering the iron.

"Alright, now go and bring everyone the metal they need. If you finish early, come back here and continue."

Irwin gazed after Trimdir, who walked away, heading towards his own forging area at the opposite side of the hall. After a few moments, he jolted out of his annoyed confusion. The smith wasn't joking… Grumbling to himself, rubbing his painful lower arms, he got his basket.

Filling it was more of a chore than the day before, his fingers barely able to grip hard enough to lift the ingots.

When he reached Lamia's, he grunted as he dropped her ingots off, causing her to look up.

"So, he's making you learn purifying, huh? Poor you," she said with a grin.

Irwin shrugged, not interested in being mocked.

"Ah, don't look like that! Trimdir is the best metal purifier in a hundred miles around Dregonda! Before all these surges happened, apprenticing smiths came from far and wide to learn from him. Sadly, learning purification is so incredibly tedious," she said, shaking her head in dismay.

Irwin couldn't hold back a snort before matching her grin. There was no denying that. He'd seen Trimdir do the same repetitive labor for days.

Lamia wiped a stray hair from her face with her calloused hand, and Irwin wondered about something.

"Does purifying only take hammering the metal until it's flat and rings?" he asked.

"What? By Yilda's ti- err… no, of course not!" Lamia said, looking around quickly before continuing in a softer tone. "That's just what you need to do to get familiar with a new metal and in your case, to get some muscle on those scrawny arms."

Irwin looked at his bare arms, which were starting to develop more muscle than he had ever had, then at Lamia's. There was no comparison. Her arms looked more like his legs.

Lamia's grin widened, and she raised and flexed her free arm. "Like what you see? Heh, continue like this, and you'll get strong soon enough," she said with a smile.

"So, what do I do after hitting it?" Irwin asked, again wondering if there was a double meaning to what she said or if she was joking.

"Ah, I'm not telling you! Trimdir wouldn't like it if I spoiled that, but…" she looked around, mock conspiratory. "But it involves your cards."

Irwin glanced at his hand, grimy and black from soot which obscured his three card-outlinings.

"Say, how is your reading going?" Lamia asked, her bushy eyebrows raised.

Irwin grimaced as he recalled he'd have to sit still and 'meditate' on another list of words that evening. Still, he gave her a thumbs up.

"I've managed to read the second book Trimdir gave me," he said as he recalled the odd book on hammers. He had learned about more different hammers than he had thought there would be needed for smithing. Still, he'd found reading fun and calming, even if it still took him great effort.

"That fast?" Lamia muttered. "What did Trimdir say?"

"He just gave me another book," Irwin said with a shrug. He had noticed the look of surprise in the smith's eyes, and he couldn't blame him. Without Ambraz's constant evening tutoring, he'd never have gotten even remotely close to being able to read even full sentences. Now his knowledge of words grew by a dozen every evening.

"Yeah, somehow that doesn't surprise me," Lamia said. "Now, git, before Trimdir sees I'm not working," Lamia said, raising her hammer, then staring at the cooled sheet of steel which looked to be a breastplate. "Ugh, cold again," she grunted.

Irwin walked away, leaving her to it, and wondering what he would have to do with his cards to help him purify the metal.

He didn't finish early, and his hands were barely able to close his coat as he left. It was almost a relief to step into the freezing wind. Almost. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the steely sky, noting the tiny flakes dropping. Another blizzard was coming, and he rushed through town.

Days passed by in a blur of working on practicing striking and wrestling with the unwieldy gauntlets, then striking with a hammer on unwieldy metal. Each day he managed to flatten the iron a bit more while his body changed. His arms thickened while his legs grew sturdy, and he noticed that he was becoming increasingly used to his Coperion Body. Though still the slowest of the youths in training, he was slowly creeping up on the pack as his growing strength became more and more apparent.

What was also apparent was his increasing appetite.

Three weeks after he'd begun learning metal purification, and probably only a few days from his goal of flattening it within an hour, Irwin sat in the tower's mess. A towering plate of food and a water jug meant for a dozen stood beside him. Daubutim and Jousithr sat opposite him, eating their own food.

"The rangers found and closed seven portals this week," Jousithr said as he poked a piece of bread and looked at Irwin. "Another increase over the previous. Worse, two of them were uncommon."

"How many losses this time?" Irwin asked as he swallowed a mouthful of dried meat before downing the salty stuff with a large gulp of water.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Two, one in each of the uncommon portals," Jousithr said. "Berling and Synthia will replace them, so our group grows smaller again. Worse, lord Bron has asked Hutch to increase our training to get us ready."

Irwin sighed as he continued eating. He knew both youths, one the son of a refugee ranger and the other the daughter of a farmer. They had been the furthest along in their training, both with uncommon cards, and it didn't surprise him they were chosen. What bothered him was that this meant that Daubutim and Pythin were now the best all around, meaning if more losses happened…

I guess that's why Pythin is training, he thought, looking at the empty chair beside Daubutim. Usually, Pythin ate with them, but today he'd grabbed food and ran to the training hall.

With a weary sigh, he glanced at Jousithr every so often.

The young lordling had started joining them when they ate a week or two ago. According to Daubutim, he was a bit of an outcast among the other lordlings due to his aversion to fighting and physical confrontation. His tendency to constantly talk about his odd experiments probably didn't help either. Irwin didn't mind, though. Not in the least, because Jousithr had a way of learning about almost anything that went on in the city.

"There's something else, though," Jousithr said, and Irwin blinked at the other's intense stare. "Another group of refugees arrived."

"They made it through the surges and the cold?" Irwin said incredulously. No new refugees had arrived for over a week.

"Yes, and there's more! They came from Tenproud!"

Irwin felt his skin crawl as he shared a worried look with Daubutim. Tenproud had been their initial goal as it was the closest to Estardon.

"Did Tenproud fall?" Daubutim asked cooly.

"No, but according to the refugees, it won't last through the winter."

Irwin glanced at his plate, the face of a young girl appearing in his mind.

"Jousithr, can you ask around if a girl called Megah is with the refugees?" he asked.

"You know people in Tenproud?" the lordling asked, a sad look on his face.

Irwin nodded.

"I'll ask around then. But…”

"I know," Irwin said as he stared at the food. His appetite had suddenly left him, but he forced himself to continue. He'd regret it if he didn't.

Another few days later, Irwin stood in the smithy, the handle of the hammer far more comfortable in his hand as he hammered as hard as he could. Gone were the wobbling wrist and the many misses or partial hits. The hammer slammed solidly into the iron, flattening it to almost the size it had to be. Irwin barely noticed, his arms working mechanically. He was weary, but not overly so, and he absently pulled his overly tight pants as he thought back to the morning.

Jousithr had finally gotten around to asking about Megah, and according to him, she wasn't with the refugees. Irwin wasn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that. After combat training, Hutch had told him he would be fighting Sebastian again the next day. The condescending smirk on the other youths' faces popped up in his mind.

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his worry and anger into another hit, enjoying the feeling of the hammer striking the iron. He was about to lift it again when he realized the sound of the impact had been less dull. It wasn't anywhere near the ring when Trimdir hit it, but it was too obvious to be his imagination.

Lowering the hammer, he carefully brought the glowing metal closer to his face and blinked. It was thinner than an inch! He looked around quickly, but he was pretty sure he hadn't been in for an hour yet.

Feeling a grin appear on his face, he put down the hammer and stomped towards Trimdir's office, taking the tongs and flattened iron with him. A look around showed that Lamia was grinning at him, giving him a big thumbs up.

Finally! Irwin thought as he knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

Irwin pushed open the door and grinned at Trimdir, who was staring at him.

"It's done!"

Trimdir's eyes widened, and he got up, taking the massive tongs from him and inspecting the rough slab.

"Indeed it is," he said, looking at Irwin with a gleam in his eyes. "Follow me."

Irwin stepped aside as Trimdir stomped past him, and he followed the smith back to the forge he'd been at mere moments earlier. Trimdir grabbed a hammer in passing, put Irwin's metal slab on the anvil, and struck it back into a squarish shape with a few easy strokes. Then he handed a startled Irwin the tongs again.

Don't tell me I have to do it again, he thought as he took the tong and stared at the thing he'd been hitting for hours.

"Now, listen closely," Trimdir said, snapping his fingers.

Irwin blinked and looked up. The smith's intense gaze drilled into his eyes.

"Have you ever removed one of your cards from your hands?"

Irwin's mouth fell open, and he stared stupidly at Trimdir. Asking someone to remove their cards or anything related to it was not done, and his brother had told him stories about it that still curled his blood. He licked his lips. Trimdir was unlikely to mean something bad… If the smith had wanted to, he could have harmed him many times already. So, did he mean what he'd done to reforge it or really remove it? Probably the first?

Trimdir seemed to sense his disturbance. The smith raised an eyebrow, then his right hand, which had a single card. "Like this," the smith said. A moment later, a purple-bordered card hovered above his hand. It depicted a heavily muscular arm with thick veins covering it.

Irwin stared at it and then nodded stupidly. Trimdir showing him his card was something he'd definitely not expected. Normally people kept it pretty close to their hearts. Then again, he'd never heard about removing the card like Ambraz had taught him, either. Maybe this was more common outside of Malorin?

"I can," he said.

"Really? Good, that will save us a lot of time," Trimdir said as his eyebrows rose. "So, you know the sensation you have when you touch a card? Try and do that, but without actually taking your cards from your hand.

"All of them?" Irwin asked, incredulous.

"Yes."

Taking a look at his hand and staring at the cards, Irwin focused on sensing his cards, trying to find his Fire Sensitive body, Eyes of Blaze, and Coperion Body cards. His first card was easiest, and as he focused his attention on it, he sensed it like a burning ember deep inside his mind. He was surprised to find that it had changed since he'd first gotten it. How he hadn't noticed before was a miracle, but now he almost couldn't ignore its presence. Oddly, his Coperion Body was the second he managed. He'd somehow thought it would be his second card, Eyes of Blaze, but that took far more effort.

Is it because I haven't used it enough? Irwin mused, thinking back and realizing it was true. He'd only really used its passive effect. Now that he could read, he should check out his own cards and perhaps even ask if he could read Daubutim's!

Five minutes later, he had a precarious sense of all his cards, though his Eyes of Blaze didn't want to cooperate.

"And now?" he asked, the strain evident even to him.

"You are sensing all three?" Trimdir asked, and this time Irwin could hear the surprise in the smith's voice. As if to mock him, the Eyes of Blaze faded from his mind.

"I had them," Irwin said, lowering his shoulders.

It took him another two minutes to get his second, stubborn card back into focus.

"Now," he whispered.

"Alright, you need to practice holding them far easier than you are now," Trimdir said. "But this is a great start. Now, I want you to hold onto this sense and strike the iron again. We will continue after you can flatten it to an inch while holding your cards focused."

"That will take hours," Irwin couldn't help but say.

Trimdir didn't even bother to respond to him but had turned and was walking away.

Irwin looked at his carded hand, then the iron, and finally grabbed the iron, gritting his teeth.

"You have one hour. After that, you need to bring everyone their materials."

Of course I do, Irwin thought as he sighed and brought down the hammer on the iron. Two strikes were all he managed before his Eyes of Blaze blurred away again.

I definitely need to practice this card more, he thought as he began focusing on it again.

When he finally walked away from the smithy, shivering as the cold wind blasted his hair back, he had managed ten strikes while holding all his cards in focus. He barely looked at the now overly familiar streets, but when he reached the tower, he noticed a group of rangers standing outside. They were staring at Myda, the head ranger who was speaking to them. She had an angry scowl on her face, though that had been normal ever since more portals appeared.

Curious, Irwin inched closer until he could hear while trying to stay out of her field of vision.

"Now, get ready for tomorrow. That's all," Myda snapped as she turned.

Realizing she'd just finished, Irwin watched the rangers move back into the town. He was about to leave when he saw one of the rangers head his way. Waiting until the tall, slender man with a quiver on his back reached him, he raised his hand.

"Hey! What's going on?"

The ranger took one look and snorted.

"Finish your bloody training and join us, and I'll tell you," the man snapped before aggressively shoving past him.

Irwin gaped after him, then walked into the building. I'll ask Jousithr tomorrow, he decided as he saw the ranger stomp away.

When he reached his room, he was surprised to see Daubutim and Pytin sitting at the table, staring at him. As soon as he saw their downcast faces, he knew something was wrong.

"Hey, there you are. About time," Pytin said as he waved him over. Daubutim's face was dull, but something in his eyes made Irwin's worry increase.

Closing the door, he quickly moved to the table.

"So… what's going on?" he asked without sitting down.

"Did you hear what happened today?" Pytin asked before shaking his head. "No, never mind. You never hear anything in that smithy. It's horrible… The rangers found a rare portal this morning near the Grinning Man's hilltop. When- When they went in to investigate it, demons flooded out! A rare surge! The ranger said there were Frozir twice as tall as the tallest man... Myda lost three of her rangers before they managed to flee."

Pytin's shoulders slumped as he stared at his hands.

"Lord Bron is sending out Basil and three guard squads to beat back the surge and hopefully close the portal."

Irwin thudded in his chair. It took him a few moments to realize Pytin was still looking at his hands, clenching them open and closed. There was something else!

"And?" Irwin asked, almost afraid to know.

"Pytin and I are assigned to one of the guard groups while Basil is gone. We leave on our first scouting mission tomorrow," Daubutim stated.

Irwin felt the blood drain from his face as he looked at his friend.