Glancing inside from a window, she could see the same Allan with his unusual focus. It was that kind of Allan she liked to look at. She already spent some time in the past, glancing at him from afar. Not getting bored at all by her spying.

Allan's focus was wielded into the already formed an image of the sword on the anvil. It had plenty of length and strength. He held the hammer with his right hand and kept going.

It felt good. He was enjoying his time.

Upon checking the rough idea of the shape, he knew it was more or less finished. With the meter and 30 centimeters in length and sharp tip and a small metal piece for the future handle. The broadsword was ready for sharpening. It was feeling more square-ish than Allan would like, so it would need to be solved from the sharpening. The broadsword was at least 15 centimeters wide, with a small decrease towards the edge. There was no curvature for this type of blade, as intended.

The sharpening so far has been done quite well. The black whetstone was the kind that worked better than anything for the sharpening in existence. After a few tries of this black whetstone, Allan found no damage or worn down section on it. From what he knew, Clayton had never once changed it, repaired it, or done anything to it since the time Allan found his little secret forge.

“There we go. Let's see what sort of methods I need for not only sharpening the edges. The whole process of the shape-shifting could be done with this according to father's work with it.”

Allan wanted to use it to get the better shape through this process. It would help him save some time with hammering if he became more proficient with this.

Holding the big piece of metal with his palms, Allan tried his best to figure out the best method to handle a big piece such as this. Tightening his grip with both palms, Allan pushed it towards the steep angle across the black whetstone.

Dust flew from the impact. Sword was struggling against the black whetstone but failed as every sword ever. It was eating the dust with no regard.

In gradual movement, Allan was pulling the sword across its edges down. The shape and a few millimeters of the mass were gone in a few moments. Second, by second, Allan kept going. Changing to the other edge, he did the same thing to this side as well.

He needed to get a better grip on the tip. What if it was not right and made the edge or tip too thin? It would lower the strength of the blade without a doubt. There is also a thing about the balancing issue that had to be maintained by Williams's expertise. It went better this time since the bigger pieces are easier to balance out since the mass is so big. Unlike the thin and light swords that were too fine for big mistakes.

Slowing down, even more, Allan made sure its edge was getting right angles. His biceps cried with misery after long minutes of continuous motions against the whetstone.

He cared little about it. The same about the noise this process produced. It was like metal against metal and it remained him of the sounds that sharpening stations did from his memory.

It almost felt like months or at least a year for him since he felt the smell of Clayton's shop. Although his evaluation of time had been messed up for quite some time already. For example, he has no clue how old he is. He could tell his body grew up. That is common sense from his memory, where he has seen himself in a mirror in the bathroom of his home.

Now, he felt mature. A bit like a year or two older, but that could all be the cause of the training for all he cares about. He has no idea what is the cause for what any longer.

Allan never thought he would feel this way about such things. Now, he was missing the time in Clayton's shop.

Alas, his forging could be done even at his present time. As the edges were complete, Allan felt an outline of his work through his hands and touch. He could feel the imperfections in this shape. They could be all resolved with the final sharpening with a steeper angle.

“Good! I never thought it would go as smooth as this. Working with this whetstone will be almost as fast as the sharpening station. I don't even need to care about its replacement. This is perfect.”

Allan was in an excellent mood. He even forgot a little about that ball of fire from his memory. It could be good to have that as well. Not worrying about fuel could save time and trouble. He would be able to set the forge up with ease. He could go all in creating masterpieces.

All he could do was marvel at this slab of stone that is the whetstone. For now, he was more than satisfied with the properties and results this thing has.

Finishing the final touches with the edges in a few strokes, Allan used almost 10 minutes to make sure the edges would be as best as possible. At last, the blade itself was finished.

Allan decided to make the handle next. He had already prepared a piece of wood which was wrapped around the extension of the metal. Wood wrapped around the small pieces of leather in its edges made sure it would remain tight. At the lower end of the handle, Allan secured it with a piece of small metal and sap, which would cause it to stay together.

Allan wished to see the finished blade itself. Although he had the vision in his head which went according to his touches, there could still be some negligible differences.

It would take a couple of months for him to be accustomed to this situation. Any normal blacksmith would end up in failure. If you asked them, they would not believe a blind blacksmith would make this in a single day.

Swinging it across the empty space and making sure it was secure, Allan was beaten. Finished, and tired to his bones. Time waited for anyone, and the sun was long gone beyond the horizon.

“Sarey? Are you here?” Allan all of a sudden asked out loud. Expecting the answer.

“What is it?” a reply sounded from the window.

“I knew it. If you want to watch, you can do so closer.”

“I am fine with where I am. It is too hot if I come closer.” She complained.

He turned around to the location of the voice. Not making his intentions obvious, since the eyes were easy indications of one's emotions. Sarey was confused since he couldn't read him at all.

“It is hot around the furnace. You are used to it, so I guess it isn't a big deal for you,” she argued.

“I suppose it is a little warm. Anyway, can I take a bath and rest for the night?” Allan asked.

“Sure, I will accompany you. Tomorrow, you will have plenty of things to do.”

“I look forward to it.”

Cleaning up the smithy from his work, Allan rested the new blade on his worktable. It was heavier than anything he had done before. In its handle, it was at least 12 to 13 centimeters wide, with 1 meter and 30 centimes in length. All in line with the handle. It was reaching towards the straight and sharp tip. It was a sturdy and straight sword in its finest form. He also thought of adding an inward bend towards the thickest parts of the metal, but Allan ended up not doing so.

He was unsure how. It could lower the weight and put the blade in a more complex manner. However, the complexity was not proportional to the difficulty in his lack of sight.

Sarey helped him a little with the cleanup. Removing the mess was easier with her help after the furnace died out. Storing everything where it should be, they walked away from this day.

But, unknown to them, tomorrow would be a completely different experience. Allan was making sure the preparations were enough. All for the sake of getting stronger.

“How do you feel?” Sarey asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Are you not upset that I used your swords?”

“My sword? They are yours now.” Allan replied with a smirk.

“Hmmmm.” She hummed in approval as she led him inside the home.

Not spending all that time with small talk, Allan was dirty from the work and spar too. It was not that Zigmund bore the all attacks. Allan's defenses were not perfect by any means. Being hit, kicked, or shoved away with Zigmund's strength left him in a dirty state. Enough for forging, but he was unwilling to go to bed like this.

Quenching his thirst and stomach with some quick snack Sarey prepared from yesterday, they both moved towards the bathroom in a distant corner of the house. Allan was already quite sensitive to their house. He already knew a few things here and there. He could move fine by now alone. Although, the outside is a different thing altogether.

“When I think about it. I can use the residual fire from your furnace, am I right?” Sarey asked in wonder, as she wanted to prepare the bath. In order to heat up the water, a fire is needed. A custom system that could be used for heating the water is not possible, so there are cold water pipes outside of the house. They had big storage barrels for rainwater, as well as an occasional river if there was not enough rain.

Building it across the window and mounting dull wooden pipes made it into the barrel inside. In order to heat it up, Zigmund charged some money to some handyman from town to come up with a suitable method to heat up the water. He added fire and a thin barrel from plated steel. Custom crafted by fine blacksmiths, it wasn't cheap at all. A fire underneath heated the metal, so the water inside of it that was put there by pipes. They could then direct water to the bathing barrel beside it, not too far away from it.

Sarey was quite happy about this system. Especially in longer winters. She came back in no time after retrieving still scorching hot pieces of wood and some charcoal. Carrying it in a tougher bucket that could take the heat, she tossed its content under the box, where was space for it.

Lowering the handle by a window, the sound of water flowed inside the metallic barrel through the pipes from outside.

“This is quite a wonderful system as well. My father used something similar, but instead of doing anything so complex. He used the forge under the bathroom to get the heat up. Using the metallic pipes to get the heat transferred to the water pipes was quick and easy.”

“I guess that sounds good, too,” Sarey said without regard as she was checking whether she did everything right. The last thing is making a flood inside the home.

In a few minutes, the water was getting hot. Stripping down, Allan still felt a small amount of shame from it. Not like he needed to be afraid or anything. He was not used to this even though Sarey was a few steps from him.

She moved another handle to empty the barrel of hot water. From a small hole through a wooden pipe and into the bath barrel.

Allan begin his washing, but all of sudden, the splashing sound of Sarey entering the barrel alerted him.

He kept his mouth shut. Not expecting her words to be the truth. She said to accompany him, yet she meant it literary.

“I will wash your back. How about it?” Sarey said in an unbothered tone.

There was plenty of room in this bath barrel. Zigmund was, after all, a big man who had his priorities straight. A good bath for him was as important as enough food in his stomach. Who else in their right mind would spend money for such a complicated and precious system that is in this bathroom? Zigmund did.

“Uhm. Alright, I will do yours as well.” Allan said in return. Not trying to make it more awkward for him than it already is. Sarey thought little of this. Although she had never taken a bath with someone else other than her parents when she was little. She liked to do them alone now, with peace in mind.

She remembered little pieces of memories. When she was little, taking a bath with her parents when she was small. But that was a long time ago. It was a different circumstance.

Sarey felt no shame in this. Allan was blind, so why should she? Rubbing their bodies, they both cleaned themselves from this day. Not telling much at all.

“Hey... Since you said that, can you wash my back?” Sarey asked through the motion of finishing washing her hair.

“A-alright.”

Allan took a small towel made from cotton. It was better to wash the back with it than hands. He began to wash her back.

“Small...” He whispered to himself.

“What?” Sarey couldn't hear him from the splashing water.

“N-nothing.”