1st Winter 514
The store seemed empty as Alija entered the blacksmith's, no living being in sight. It was a strange feeling for someone who was used to the playful chitter-chatter of Donovan, or the sound of Rals crafting something, metal and metal echoing in the room. There wasn't even a customer, examining the fine products in the show-room, some of which Alija was proud to call her own. But on that dark, cold winter day, not many ventured out, and those who did had set purposes and goals, not to be broken by interest in the metal tools the Armed Scholar had on display. Donovan had taken the day off sick, like many in the city, the cold weather getting the better of them. Rals had disappeared into the-room-behind-the-locked-door, a place that had always gripped the young blacksmith with interest, but never seemed inviting enough to enter. Or maybe it was just the fear of the consequences Rals would enforce if, or rather when, he discovered. That left Alija to run the store, although thankfully with little to do.
When she entered the actual blacksmith room hidden at the back, she realised that no one had ventured in there that season. The fire-place contained little but ashes, not even coal or wood lining the base. She set to work, piling on the fuel, before setting it alight. It took a few tries to get it to catch into flame, but before long a large fire was roaring in the place of what was nothing. Alija pulled out several tools, taking the broken sword in the corner. Might as well fix it if she had nothing else to do.
She examined the two parts. It was a clean snap, nothing too hard to fix. She rummaged through the forge, searching for the equipment she would need. A wire brush. She brushed both ends, scraping the dirt off them. Alija realised that most the actions were a habit, requiring little thought or planning. Now the ends were clean, she held them in turn into the fire, allowing the ends to heat up to an orange-yellow colour, before removing them. Her father had taught her a technique once, to join two parts of a sword. Taking the hot chisel, she made a slit, perhaps an inch or two long down the middle, before separating the two halves a little. When she was ready to weld, they would slot into each other, forming a nice shape to secure. Dipping it into coarse sand after giving it a final brush, the two sword pieces returned to the fire to continue their heating.
The store seemed empty as Alija entered the blacksmith's, no living being in sight. It was a strange feeling for someone who was used to the playful chitter-chatter of Donovan, or the sound of Rals crafting something, metal and metal echoing in the room. There wasn't even a customer, examining the fine products in the show-room, some of which Alija was proud to call her own. But on that dark, cold winter day, not many ventured out, and those who did had set purposes and goals, not to be broken by interest in the metal tools the Armed Scholar had on display. Donovan had taken the day off sick, like many in the city, the cold weather getting the better of them. Rals had disappeared into the-room-behind-the-locked-door, a place that had always gripped the young blacksmith with interest, but never seemed inviting enough to enter. Or maybe it was just the fear of the consequences Rals would enforce if, or rather when, he discovered. That left Alija to run the store, although thankfully with little to do.
When she entered the actual blacksmith room hidden at the back, she realised that no one had ventured in there that season. The fire-place contained little but ashes, not even coal or wood lining the base. She set to work, piling on the fuel, before setting it alight. It took a few tries to get it to catch into flame, but before long a large fire was roaring in the place of what was nothing. Alija pulled out several tools, taking the broken sword in the corner. Might as well fix it if she had nothing else to do.
She examined the two parts. It was a clean snap, nothing too hard to fix. She rummaged through the forge, searching for the equipment she would need. A wire brush. She brushed both ends, scraping the dirt off them. Alija realised that most the actions were a habit, requiring little thought or planning. Now the ends were clean, she held them in turn into the fire, allowing the ends to heat up to an orange-yellow colour, before removing them. Her father had taught her a technique once, to join two parts of a sword. Taking the hot chisel, she made a slit, perhaps an inch or two long down the middle, before separating the two halves a little. When she was ready to weld, they would slot into each other, forming a nice shape to secure. Dipping it into coarse sand after giving it a final brush, the two sword pieces returned to the fire to continue their heating.