Allan sat there before his table for some time. Thinking of all the possible and simplest routes he would find worth the try. The very first and at the same time the last mixing he had done couldn't really be called a success. In fact, it was a rather complicated method, but what forging method was easy for the first time? None.
Writings, as well as his father's countless moves from his spying endeavors, made it somewhat passable knowledge. However, when one was doing it for the first time by oneself, it would be nowhere near perfect. That was unless one was a complete genius. For Allan, it was more of an exciting experiment back then. Expecting to succeed was already beyond his sense, and the basic thing of even starting was fine for him. A failure was, after all, a normal thing for such an experiment, and he indeed made quite a few of them. Although he didn't know these mistakes, or how exactly wrong he was.
Making a stride for throwing knives was easier said than done, and his overall impression of the mixing was only coming from the book. For the most part, he wasn't that understanding of the mixing methods in broader terms. Such as usability in actual real-life expertise and forging itself. Normally, he would forge the knives one by one to see the general happenings of the mixing and learn from the mistakes in this way.
Right now, he had two kinds of choices, which had some positives. Trying things smaller first was always better, and Allan was the source of that since he was very young.
There was one basic that he didn't try, and that's the mixing of sheets of metallic plates. Thinner or lighter, they aren't like the ingots he used before. Here, and now, he has an abundant number of them in one wooden crate. Zigmund assumed some armor would be made too, but to his absolute lack of interest, Allan would never do them. At least he had no plan to, and the road to weapon-making was the kind of forging he loved more. Though, it didn't mean he wouldn't do some tries in some armors. He at least knew how they were made, and their general strengths and weaknesses.
According to Sarey, who mentioned these plates, they were pre-tempered and ready for further work. They came from manufacturers who made them in higher quantities. In town, or surrounding cities by people who had proper experience in it.
None of these things was the kind Allan wanted to waste time for. Using the bough ones would work much better in his current situation since he was a busy man. The training alone left him with half a day gone.
“Right... Mixing is all about the right choice. There are multiple boxes with a lot of types of them, and as far as I know, the properties of Scorching Ore, as well as Nigh sky ore would be perfect for each other. Hmmm... Alright. Let's go with them. Not like I have anything to lose with a try.” Allan decided and grabbed two boxes that had names carved into them. It made his choice simpler, and at least he knew what was in his hands.
He laid out the content of the boxes on his worktable and plates were packed in a piece of paper for them to not scratch or something. That was a bit unnecessary, but Allan didn't find it strange that much.
On his left was a tough textured piece of a metal plate of Scorching Ore. It had a distinct red color but remained on the rather rough side of the coin when it comes to even processed metal. On his right was a pure black metal plate with a much harder, and visibly shinier surface. Named Nigh sky ore. It was like its surface, where it had many minerals inside while still remaining the color of deep black. He felt it fine with his fingers and even assumed the shininess, but he can't guess that alone.
To Allan's knowledge, this piece felt much smoother because it had a different density, toughness and was harder to work with. That means it would become a very hard-to-shatter weapon if hammered correctly. On the other hand, the red one was less dense. Still tough, but easier to work with. Both could be usable in many swords and armor pieces, but both had a different kind of attributes.
Night sky ore was a mixture of many minerals and when forged, they would get purged and refined. The end result would be the black metal with no residual sight of the minerals, which was making the rough design. That didn't happen even with the pre-tempered metallic plates which were forged from ores. The cause was the hammering and not enough care put into the heat. Regarding that, Allan didn't need to know more. It would be redundant, as he had everything he wanted. Knowing the reason for everything, his mind couldn't process it all.
The research he had to learn about many ores came to one conclusion. It went over the head of many blacksmithing masters in the past. Ores were minerals and materials countless years old. Spanning ages older than human lives, their parents, grandparents, and even the nations. It was just plain impossible to say for sure how old ago they were even formed.
Forming and creating inside of the earth, they were outside of the human eyes or their knowledge. Incredible variables could add proportional effects to them, while many mountains were rich in specific ores, while others had different ones. It was the course of natural selection and no one questioned it too much. Perhaps it was like with the animals since certain locations had different kinds than others. Though, with the follow-up of the blacksmithing, many ideas came to different conclusions.
All because of the curiosity of man. Many could have been wrong and many would most likely be even correct. With the flow of the questions, mankind even questioned each other and went with what they believed to be right. Even though it could be wrong, it didn't matter when one felt right. It was a case of bias, and not knowing any better. This went on for a long time before the ages passed and new ones arrived. Blacksmithing itself went through many iterations, but fundamentally, few things changed.
Taking an ore into the flaming furnace and purifying it or heating it was about right. A workable scorching piece of metal would be the end of the first result. Hammering it down to one's wishes in order to pierce another human or an animal for hunts was the second end before the sharpening.
Allan knew these basic historical lessons from his father, but these weren't the kind that interested him too much. Clayton taught him a lot, and little Allan had a mind for a more individual approach to the forging. The kind which was raw, with not many distractions. History of ores and blacksmithing, in general, was the least Allan bothered to learn. At least to please his father.
The future and the present were the things the young boy found most exciting. He couldn't wait until the day when he become older to make the dreams of forging legendary and vast weapons. Such a time, when he would forge whatever he wanted, and build status for himself, in the name of his father. That was at least what he believed in when he was younger. Yet, still young, he felt somewhat similar to that sentiment at an uncertain present. The teachings of his father weren't the kind he would forget, as that was his precious family.
That harsh truth and reality came to him much faster and unexpectedly as a released bowstring of a master of the bow.
Allan was now, free to do what he wanted, yet he was the kind to feel the pressure of his past problems. These things were constantly eating his mind, and unless he pressed his mind forward, he would long feel lost. It has been a while since he's seen something, felt his father's voice, seen the sunset, and so on. Visioning things in his mind were simple enough, but some things were better than others. It was only fortunate that his mind never went wild, nor did his personality.
He tried to act and go with the problems he discovered. Utilizing 36's teachings, he could get his eyes back while founding the home at some point in the future. It was small wishful thinking.
Blood forging could be an everlasting moment, after all, and from the hints it covered, it was the clue to get to that point.
The family would be an everlasting moment too, with memories coming even beyond that. If one would become immortal in the sense of the spiritual level of memories, one's legacy would come a long way.
That was a famous saying of who knows who, but it wasn't important. The truth it spoke could even be misspoken to many meanings. It was also a gateway to the insight into the path of immortality, but it wasn't anything the mortal lives knew. Life went with blood, blood came with life. Parents can appear and pass away. Repeating the cycle of mortality was never changing path since the universe came to be. Everything was subject to the end, even human hearts and the desires of lofty figures. The past could always become present, narrated by the future.
Through thinking, and remembering the past, Allan was touching his chin and playing with two plates on his table.
“What is the point of all this? I should go along and make a knife. A regular one with a single property. That or the option to short sword, or a more regular kind of blade. Such as the one that came from the hammer emblem.” Allan thought to himself, as he was considering what to make of them. One thing was knowing the start, but that stopped once he didn't know what to make of them.
With a rather uncertain decision, Allan went to the furnace. Checking it first before use, he then started the fire. Buckets of charcoal on top of wide logs of dry wood were about what he needed. The furnace itself was designed for the heat to go into the furnace's main chamber. There, it would become the hottest temperature.
Putting the blade or ores directly into the fire was a stupid and bad idea. Heat would be rather uneven, since the logs have many sections of the approaching heat, and the same would be for the charcoal. Some blacksmiths liked to go with charcoal only and it could work for them. It would require a ton of charcoals, so why make your life tougher with that, when the solution was simpler? Chamber acted as the core of the furnace and even heat was created through the simple use of designs. Using both wood and charcoal would then become optimal, no matter what.
It worked great and scorching heat was coming into the small cuts of clay chambers. Flames would sometimes go all the way inside, but so little it wouldn't make a difference. Some furnaces even included some openings for the air to enter the furnace, but this one didn't have it. Allan knew why, and since he was already familiar with it, could work around it. For example, making special fire pits made of wooden logs. Like a triangle upwards or something along the many designs, Allan experimented with. Some would gush the heat fiercer towards the chambers above, which would produce more heat.
In that sense, time and heat depended on the skill of the blacksmith, and the requirements for the specifics metals. The amount of fuel and time would create the specific temperatures for all kinds of them. There was no simple way to get the temperatures correct, but master blacksmiths wouldn't lie if they told they would know the right temperature based on the feel alone.
It could be a strange way of forging and living, but when one is doing something that is considered their livelihood and years would pass after mastering their crafts, it wasn't strange to get this familiarity with the fire.
Allan was quite far away from attaining that kind of mastery of forging. Yet, he was also somewhat closer to that mark with each passing forging. After all, there was no examination of attaining some sort of mastery. It would be normal to become a master with enough reliance, skill, and sheer consumed time. Afterward one could become such an expert. Also, one could gain some recognition when selling their works. Becoming a master in that way was also a form of skill and technique.
Similarly, some blacksmiths could also gain recognition as colleagues, masters, apprentices, amateurs, and so on by the other blacksmiths. People were always competitive beings and when considering the bigger picture of their hobbies, things could get heated up.
That could be almost said about anything. Even the martial arts weren't any different and could be even stranger and harsher in this way. One school may recognize another school for its inferior style. That or dramas, disputes, and even thoughts of insignificant ways of techniques would spark many encounters.
On the further spectrum of this were the pill makers. These kinds of Immortals were the loftiest, and they considered themselves too highly. Holding their chins side by side with the heavens was their usual schtick. Following the path of pills was anything but hard, and expensive. This sort of path was rare in the grand scheme of the Immortals. In that sense, when one could reach those heights in their lives, people beneath their position could become inferior in their eyes. That's how human ego, heart, and further loftier Immortal's lives went. Even though they came from the very same origin as any kind of mortal.
Cruel with honesty, crafty thanks to brutality, and power to shake the heaven.
Those words described human nature in the primal times of the Immortal pathways more than enough. Achieving victories was to some beings, more important than some so-called morality of their actions.
However, all of these issues were long outside of Allan's mind. He, who had a simple, yet focused mind, didn't watch anything, as his mind was his everything. At least right now, at this very moment. He didn't consider what others thought and felt himself to be the key to the future. It was a little beginning of his ego, which was rebuilding itself after going through the roughest part of his life. So far, that is, but that may be a story for another time.
Being bad or good, things could only change with more time, but that would be a future that could wait for anyone. The universe was always an indifferent, but hectic and mesmerizing, place of many wonders. It was caused by the lives inside of it, which made it a one-of-a-kind place that may be a conscious being to understand.
To some, what Allan experienced would be just minor turbulence. Although what his body met was anything but incredulous, and defined the fate beyond the heavens.
As he waited and thought for his forge to heat up, he sat in his chair, which he placed in front of the furnace. He felt great, nostalgic, and even disturbingly calm. So much so, that he felt his mind, body, and feelings that were only achieved in his forge.
His body was quick to the number of years spent, made into a temple of strength. His strength, speed, and reflexes were stronger than even a trained soldier with their eyes intact.
This curse, which he thought would make him depressed for the rest of his life, was met with unexpected situations. Even so, by an unlikely being. 36 was the one he assumed to be that change he needed, but the key to an opportunity was long somewhere else. Close, away, but not impossibly so.
Not into the vast universe, nor somewhere where Allan wasn't afraid to travel. Yet, he knew that there were many children who dreamed of reaching the high sky. Stars, and so on, beyond their reach. But there he wouldn't;t be able to guess was quite different, since that was impossible, even for immortals. The vast and endless universe was no place for anything normal. In truth, it was much more deadly and unkept for living. Those immortals that could live outside of the planets were the kind that went far into their lives and fate.
With these thoughts, Allan wondered about the previous life of 36 who always acted halfway insane and halfway like a lunatic. Not like it was not the same thing, but the amount of time he had spent talking to him was already plenty enough to know him. No mortal's personality could even come close to his strangeness.
Forcing shut his wandering mind, Allan got out of his seat and went back to his worktable. The heat was starting to become great, so it was about time to prepare the material according to the mixing.
Tossing the chair back beside the table, he sat down and put two piles of metal plates before himself. Allan assumed the position of a researcher at the moment and began to marvel at what would be the next action.
Allan considered the past many times when his father did his forging. Every time, he would use some weird methods, and it may as be the mixing in some strange and higher level of comprehension. However, that wasn't something Allan would guess since he didn't know even the beginner concept. His father sometimes made ingots stand on top of each other or sideways. Then he would put them in the furnace. He even had them crisscrossed or the same kind of plates that Allan had before him. Apart from these, the usual methods were the regular kind. Using a single piece of ore or metal would be more than sufficient in most cases.
“I can only try. It wouldn't hurt me to fail anyway since I have more plates than necessary.” Allan sighed and picked a few plates from each pile.
He went to the furnace with a few 2o centimeter-long segments of plates. Each layer had a different color of the ore according to Allan's plan. 1 piece of Scorching ore between 1 piece of Night sky ore and so on. Feeling the texture and heat with his palm, there was a time for the most important thing when mixing. Work with the right temperature and the metal itself for them to mix together. These two were the fundamental thing that mattered in the first order of the mixing. It's also one of the major things that allowed Allan to try it once again. It was all thanks to the last-minute gift from his father. A day, or two later, the war already started.