Some say that a craftsmen's work reveals who they truly are. Well, Richard's final piece was masterful. His best yet to date, and that is saying something considering he's been at this for the better half of five decades.

He loves crafting, so much so that he used to say that he had dwarven blood in his veins. He used to say that, but everyone he told that too was long gone. Passed on, in Heaven he hoped.

The blade was black, had a beautiful golden wave pattern, and was able to cut through paper without any effort. Damascus. That was the type of blade this was.

Richard was old, he was already in his seventies so he didn't use traditional blacksmithing techniques. Like the ones used in the medieval ages. 

Instead he used modern machines to forge the sword. 

He disliked how much newer blacksmiths relied heavily on machines to help ease the process, but he was glad he took the time to familiarize himself with the process.

However, there was nothing like feeling the weight of a hammer in your hands and the blaze from the fire on your skin. Nothing but you and the material you were shaping into the ideal shape. Time and effort, alone with your thoughts and ideas. That is what Richard found appealing.

It might also be the reason he was alone in life. No kids, wife, or family. Just him and his work.

He sheathed the katana, no need to keep it unprotected. This sword was like his child, but Richard knew it did not belong to him. It was requested by one of his long-time customers.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The price of this katana would give him more than enough to pay his mortgage for the month. No one in the world needed a katana, not in this day and age.

People collected them. Mostly for display, but there were a few that wanted them for recreational purposes.

It didn't matter to Richard, all he cared about was putting his best effort into crafting what he could. If he did not like it, then he wouldn't sell it. That was his motto and allowed him to retain his customer base.

They knew that the quality they received was top-tier.

Be it wooden tables used for dining, custom-made sculptors made from wood, armor, or weapons. Richard did it all.

He quickly put the product in the box he was going to ship it in, and closed the lid. After he set it aside, it was already late in the evening so he'd take it to be shipped tomorrow morning.

Tonight he planned on finishing the novel he was reading. It was called, 'Lost' the story of a group of people finding themselves lost on an uninhabited island after a plane crash. Kind of like the television series, but not as entertaining. Still a solid read from what he read so far.

As Richard sat on his couch and read the book, time flowed smoothly. He felt himself getting tired, he wasn't as young as he used to be. There was one chapter remaining, about twelve pages. He wanted to finish it tonight, but he shrugged. The book was bound to leave him on a cliffhanger from the way the plot was moving so far.

No point in finishing it now, it'd just make him restless. Not knowing what would happen next was going to kill him, he knew that. So, he set the book down on the coffee table in front of him and laid back on the couch. Five, maybe twenty minutes. He'd rest his eyes for that long before getting up to head to his room. Not that it actually mattered. No one was waiting on him there.

Richard closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.