Timestamp
45th Spring, 522 AV
A thick layer of steel gray clouds hung in the air threatening rain. It was a credible threat, as rain in Syka came frequently, like clockwork. In fact, it was probably more consistent than clockwork would be in this wet climate. The rain was a part of that. For the moment though, conditions were as dry as they ever got in Falyndar. So, the young smith Antelokes kept about his work, although not without the occasional wary glance skyward.
The forge was burning coal, and it was burning hot. He’d spent much of his morning at the bellows to make sure the temperature was right. As a result, he’d developed a dull ache in his back. With a grunt, Antelokes rolled his shoulders and stretched to ease the pain. It would go away soon enough, it always did. Old timers complained about back pains that didn’t leave them so easily, but that was something he’d never experienced, and so he didn’t worry about it.
A stonework crucible—the same color as the clouds—sat on top of the forge. Antelokes cast a critical eye on its contents. Inside was a mixture of copper and tin, mixing together to make bronze. He had the mold ready for it, but he didn’t want to remove the mixture from the heat too soon. The individual metals needed to melt together completely to form a homogenous alloy. Bronze was an excellent material, but if he made it poorly than it would hardly do its job. And Antelokes wouldn’t dare show his face around Syka if he became known for distributing low quality product. Better to take the extra time to be sure, just in case.
Antelokes checked the mold for the umpteenth time, making sure no foreign materials had fallen in that could affect the final pour. He would need to grind and polish it anyways of course. The mold was basic, and even the best molds never turned out a completely finished item. Still, he liked to be meticulous. Unlike some people who tended to work here…
Antelokes shot a derisive glance at a pile of half-finished projects on one of the workbenches. The results of Artik’s last drunken run at the forge. The man didn’t tend to clean up after himself while intoxicated. Still, despite his failings the man was good. As good as just about anybody with a hammer and anvil. He didn’t show it off much, but Artik had real skill. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Antelokes turned away from Artik’s mess and checked his bronze again. It looked about ready. A voice called out from behind the young man, startling him.
“You are the smith yes? The newer one?” The voice was close. The speaker must have come quite near to him before calling out a greeting.
“Yes, that I am,” Antelokes answered, turning around. His eyes widened in surprise seeing the question’s source. The voice was that of a man, but this man’s skin was scaled, like that of the alchemist T’aidell. He also bore blue markings around his eyes. “My name is Antelokes. What’s yours?” he asked, overcoming his surprise and reaching out to shake the man’s hand.
“My name is Kajuntar, though you may call me Kajun.” Kajun took a few seconds to notice the outstretched hand in front of him, but once he did so he shook it lightly. “I spoke with my colleague, T’aidell, and she mentioned you.” Antelokes raised an eyebrow.
“Did she?” he replied. “I’ve talked with her before, yes. What did she say?”
“She said that you were ignorant and easy to lead along,” Kajun said in a matter of fact tone. He continued, barely pausing to let the previous statement sink in. “She also said that you displayed an interest in the geological sciences. That is why I came here. Is this true?”
Once again, Antelokes widened his eyes in surprise. Well, at least he knew T’aidell wasn’t one to hide her true judgements. There was something to be said for that.
“She said I was ignorant?” he asked, a little offended.