Ping. Ping. Ping. The sound of metal slamming against metal. Jason Burns brought his hammer down against the white hot steel on the anvil, shaping it into a blade.

His well-defined arms glistened with sweat from the light of the forge.

Jason was so intent on his task, that he had hardly noticed how exhausted his body was. He had been working with metal since he was 13, for four years now, yet his crafts could never match his master’s.

Of course they wouldn’t be as good. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

His master was a dwarf who went by Barnabas The Indomitable in his adventuring days. He was 277 years old, practically lived 4 of Jason’s human life times, and dwarves were known for being the most talented craftsmen as well.

There’s no way I’ll ever catch up.

Yet still his arms moved, slamming away at the anvil.

The door of the smithy flung open, pouring in the light of the noon day.

With an audible sigh, the newcomer said, “Kid, you're still at the forge?”

Jason couldn’t believe his master, coming in to work so late. No doubt he had spent the night drinking and whoring.

“It’s not kid. It’s Jason. Why do you refuse to call me by my name?”

“You’ll always be that snot-nosed kid who begged me to work 6 years ago. At least, until you prove yourself a man.”

“Huh, and how am I supposed to do that?” asked Jason, still slamming away at the anvil, trying to sound unconcerned.

“How else than by forging a piece of true worth, or slaying a giant monster.”

He knows that both tasks are impossible. A piece of true worth is probably a craft that’s finer than his own. What he can make with one eye closed and an arm behind his back I couldn’t create in years. And monsters? This city is so peaceful it’s ridiculous. He’ll never stop calling me kid.

“Don’t be so down, kid. Why don’t you relax a little? Kids your age should be goofing off instead of holed up in some dark smithy all day. It’s not as if you really need to be here.”

It was true, the smithy made most of its money with monthly commissions from the city’s militia and adventurer’s guild, so once those were done, not much else was left except for fixing the odd pot or pan from the neighborhood. And if they ever were in a bind, Barnabus would simply sell or make another one of his priceless works. That would usually have them set for a few months. Most days, Jason spent his days practicing his craft, fixing up pots and pans, or playing around in the backyard with Barnabus.

“Someone has to man the shop while you're gone.”

Barnabas sighed. He couldn’t help but fear that Jason was wasting his life chasing a worthless goal. He knew Jason thought his blades couldn’t compare to his own, but in no way did that mean that they were worthless. His blades were beautiful in their own right, only seen as imperfect when compared to the impossible mastery that was the dwarf’s. And for some reason, Barnabus was ashamed of that.

The truth was he had nothing left to teach the boy. He would only get better if he went forward on his own, without the dwarf’s shadow taunting him.

“I think it’ll be fine for one evening.” said the dwarf, trying to sound as if he thought Jason silly.

Abruptly, the boy stopped his hammering, placed the not quite blade to the side and said, “Fine.” He then grabbed a towel, his jacket, a bag with his things, and left through the back.

As Jason dried himself off, he wondered what Barnabas was thinking. Why’s he trying to get rid of me? We almost always got on. He must be scheming something…

Jason tried to think of what the dwarf could possibly stand to gain from his absence, but nothing came to mind.

I wish he would just get back to his normal self again. Pointing out my mistakes, and yelling at me whenever I would slack off.

For a moment, Jason doubted whether or not he truly wanted the old Barnabas back. Wait, wasn’t that awful?

Then he shook his of that doubt and reaffirmed himself, no, of course I want him back to his old self. He seemed happier back then…

Once Jason finished reminiscing, he toweled himself off, threw the towel on the bench behind the smithy, changed his shirt, put on his jacket, and slung his rucksack over his back.

I’ll grab some lunch at The Roadside and take a walk around the district. That should be enough to make old Barnabus happy.

He glanced at his green stamina bar, 183/340, and was glad he didn’t tire himself out too much.

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Where Jason lived, and where the smithy was situated was far off from the market district or any of the city’s entrances, so the areas were hardly hustling and bustling, especially at the time of mid-day where most everyone was either at work or in their homes. Though there was the odd group of kids playing around or pedestrian going by.

As Jason walked through the streets he’d known ever since he was a child, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, but also as if the world had become a much less fantastical place. When he was little, everything was far off and grand, but as he grew up, he realized how much more grounded and certain everything was. It’s not as if he had once had dreams of being a hero and then jaded by the impossible reality of such an existence, but that everything seemed to be possible when he was a kid, everyone always encouraged him saying so, but now his path seemed to be set, and he wasn’t upset by this fact, only at peace with the realization.

Jason arrived at the inn with a chime of an overhead bell. Most all of the tables were clear and Darcy O’han had just picked up an armful of plates and silverware.

I must have just missed the lunch rush.

At the sound of the bell, Darcy turned to look at the newcomer. A smile erupted from her face when she saw it was Jason. He had known her since forever and, nowadays, didn’t know where to look.

Darcy had a pristine beauty that would have better suited a noble going to the magic academy rather than a simple server at an inn. Before, Darcy was just Darcy, but now she was Darcy.

Jason took a booth seat. He didn’t have to wait long; Darcy appeared at his side minutes later, “What’ll it be?”

“Uh, I’ll have the beef stew.”

“Sorry, we just ran out, how about chicken?”

“Sure.”

Still with that same radiant smile, she said, “be right back!”

Jason felt compelled to put his hand over his chest; her smile always made his heart go crazy.

She soon returned and slid into the seat opposite Jason. “Sooo, what’s up?”

And he proceeded to tell her how Barnabas was acting recently, repeating some of the things he had told her before.

“Maybe when he says a piece of true worth, he means something completely original, something that’s unique to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you’re always trying to copy him, right? Maybe he wants you to branch off and try your own thing?”

“How did you come up with that?”

“The words true worth just reminded me of a fairy tale I was read as a kid. Or maybe he does want you to kill a giant monster. You know how much adventurers revere monster slaying.”

It was true, they always spoke much of how big of a deal it was when so-and-so killed that A or B rank bounty.

“I think he only wanted you to relax a little. You know how hard you are on yourself.” Darcy couldn’t help but glance at Jason’s shoulders and arms. His physique was still clearly present under the layer of his jacket. He used to be such a tiny little thing, but now he was the biggest out of anyone their age. “Sometimes I go entire days without seeing you.”

A call from the kitchen snapped Darcy to attention, and off she went.

Jason enjoyed his talks with Darcy. She helped him see from a new perspective, which may not have always been right, but it did always help him see his problem from a wider lense.

Darcy returned with some food and drink not only for him but her as well. When he raised an eye in question, she responded, “I’m on my lunch break.”

Now that their portion of talking about Jason was done, it was time for Darcy to tell him how she was doing. Though Jason never asked the question specifically, it was simply how their conversations would flow.

Darcy’s older sister, Shannon, was an adventurer, and she would oft get letters of her journeys. Being an adventurer was certainly an attractive lifestyle, living by your blade for quests of all kinds.

But in truth, you had to be stupid, crazy, or crazy brave to actually pursue such a career. Not only were you risking your life, but you were also partially responsible for the safety of your party members. And the traveling and camping were hardly hospital endeavors. That’s why most people took peaceful jobs like blacksmith’s apprentice or restaurant waitress in cities.

Shannon was of the crazy brave variety. She always loved to fight, and was damn good at it. Her most recent adventure had her return some long lost descendant’s necklace back to the heart of a dungeon where a lich lay in waiting. But before she and her party could explain why they were there, the lich had already started monologing about the unfairness of life and how he would never forgive humanity for what they did to him. And of course a fight ensued. But once she showed him the necklace up-close, he started sobbing and crying invisible tears. Shannon had felt awkward the entire time, but the tank of their group, a half-orc who went by the name Skully (for the skull of a slain monster he wore as a helmet) just walked up to him and started hugging him and whispering words of encouragement like, “you did the best that you could. Your life wasn’t worthless.” It was a real sight.

They continued like this for hours, talking. When a customer had first come in, Darcy started to stand from her seat, but her mother who usually manned the front desk simply said that it was fine and that she would cover for her.

Once it was around mid-evening, Darcy told Jason about how everyone was meeting up to go stone skipping, and asked if he’d like to join them. Jason gladly agreed. It felt like he hadn’t seen them in ages. Though, in truth, it was only a few weeks. Everyone had become so busy with their apprenticeships and jobs.

— — —

When Darcy and Jason made it to the lake, they were greeted with waves and cheers from Monica, Darren, Selene, Arnold, and Thomas.

Monica had joined the church of Halone as a priestess in training. Darren joined the city’s watch. Selene became a secretary for some bigshot official. Arnold was training under his father as a cobbler. And Thomas was the garbage boy for the castle, but one day, he would be head chef.

It was crazy how changed yet the same everyone was.

The girls made one or two attempts at stone skipping and chatted for the rest of the evening. But the boys got into it and started competing. Three or four skips was average, and six or seven was pretty good.

Darren got 5, Arnold 3, and Thomas 4. When it was Jason’s turn, he picked up a sufficiently smooth stone, drew his arm back, and tossed it.

No one had noticed it, but as he drew his arm back, a glint of red light appeared on the stone.

Jason managed 12 skips.