10th Day of Spring, 510 A.V. Hatot stood in front of the smithies, his head tilted back as his eyes were closed in silent reflection. Radris slept at the time, which was likely a good thing considering what he needed to do. Forging a Lakan was an important step in a Akalak’s life, and one that likely needed a calm heart, patience, and perseverance in the event that first attempts did not exceed. Radris was not well suited for any of such. Hatot had seen many Lakan in his time. He even remembered his father letting him hold the one he had forged when Hatot was but a child. Still, he had not the faintest clue as to what went into the Lakan, and exactly zero experience at the forge himself. He wasn’t sure if they would have the supplies there, or if Hatot himself, as initial stages of the whole Rite of Manhood, would have to gather the ores and essentially complete everything from start to finish. All Hatot knew for sure was this: His time for his Rite of Manhood was mere months away, and he had yet to even attempt even forging the essential tool required for the Rite. Hatot’s head slowly lowered, as a long breath was exhaled. His eyelids slowly opened, revealing that intense golden color in the iris’ of his eyes. With slow, long strides, he then walked in to the smithy, pausing for a moment to look around. Finally, his gaze caught the large Akalak slamming a hammer down along glowing hot metal, flattening it out over the anvil. What he was in the process of shaping, Hatot could not tell. Though the sparks that flew with each swing of the hammer, coupled with the intense passion upon the smithy’s face, foretold that it would be something great. “Excuse me?” Hatot said calmly to garner the smithies attention. “I am Hatot, and I come humbly requesting your guidance in the forging of my first Lakan.” |