Jack had gotten into the routine of training every morning before heading to smith at the guild. He wouldn’t train enough to become sore, but by the end of the day, with all the smithing he had to do, he’d be sore enough that the next morning he’d do slightly less training. There had been an influx of weapons on the first few days, the adventurers as eager as mice having heard that their weapons could be fixed by Chief Bloodwall’s son. Some believed that he would imbue the weapons with greater skills, but others just wanted the prestige of it.

Some mercenaries had even tried to approach him about potentially joining their party but both Alice and Don managed to protect him from them, batting the swarming mercenaries as though they were flies. Many wanted the son of Chief Bloodwall to join their ranks, but Don had made sure everyone got the memo that the boy was off limits. He had to wrestle one man away, the drunkard too belligerent to understand the common tongue.

‘Just my luck that such a prominent figure had to appear within the guild,’ Don thought. At first he thought that Jack had done it on purpose, but after spending some times with the boy he realised that he was just that naive. Don had been stressed out ever since finding out that Jack was Chief Bloodwall’s son. Sure the guild would receive more fame from the fact someone so great had joined them, but he also knew the kind of person Chief Bloodwall was.

The Butcher of Beasts was one nickname he had earnt, but there was another. Kinslayer. Chief Bloodwall had killed his family members years ago, but that didn’t mean he would kill his own son. They say that something had happened to force the brothers against one another, and after that, he allowed no one to disgrace the name of Bloodwall.

He had heard that many people had gone missing after speaking poorly about a Bloodwall, and though he hadn’t confirmed the truth of the matter, he wasn’t interested in finding out. Even if the Chief had slain his older brother for the title, no one had any idea about what had happened to the man’s children, and he had doubled his effort in protecting the wall.

Still, if he could treat Jack well, it would be more than enough for the guild. He owed Chief Bloodwall for all the mercenaries who had come from that area. Those who couldn’t make the cut to become knights for the Bloodwalls would often times find work as mercenaries. Those warriors were usually extremely powerful in comparison to their peers, often times several ranks higher than those around their age, and so they were easily able to gain money and fame through the mercenary guild.

Alice had a whole set of other worries. Jack was cute, and he had a high pedigree, as the son of Chief Bloodwall. He was also sweet and naive, and she couldn’t help but want to tease him, but if the boy fell for her it would be too awkward. She needed to behave like an older sister, but not one to covet. She remained somewhat distant from the boy unless he appeared to need help.

However, the boy looked like a little puppy who was lost. She couldn’t help but want to coddle him. ‘How troublesome!’ At least he wasn’t like George, who gave her the creeps.

Jack enjoyed the safety of the guild, the warmth of the forge, and the sounds of metal striking metal. He had managed to repair almost a dozen weapons already, and a couple of shields as well. Armoursmithing was very different to Weaponsmithing, and a smith practised in just Weaponsmithing would find it very difficult to Armoursmith. He was able to barely improve shields, so he offered the service, though it was mostly something he offered as a way to gain favour. Since it was only a slight improvement he didn’t charge much, but the mercenaries appreciated it.

After the smithing had died down a few days in, he had decided to bring along the sword belt he had bought. He placed it down on the anvil and then sat opposite it, crossing his arms and he leaned in to stare at it intently.

There was something about the hilt which called to him. Even as he slept, he could feel his body itch with a need to grab it and hold it. He had racked his mind about how to fix it, but it wasn’t something that he could do. As he inspected it deeper, he found that the blade was not made from a composition he was familiar with. He was sure there was cobalt in the blade, but that was the only metal he had managed to recognise. At a glance it seemed to be steel, but it definitely wasn’t.

He wondered when Smith Terry would return since he’d be able to figure it out, and if he couldn’t, then perhaps he’d know someone who could? After a long while of staring at it, he reached over to grab it. Something shot right through him, and he gasped. He blinked a few times and then looked down at the sword hilt gripped tightly between his hand.

“Hello?” he said to the sword, not knowing what compelled him to do so. The sword hilt remained silent, but Jack could feel as though it understood him. As he opened his mouth, Don walked in.

“Hey kid, are you busy?” he asked, looking around to see that Jack wasn’t working on anything at the moment.

“No,” Jack replied. “What do you need?” he asked, wrapping the sword hilt in some cloth.

Don noticed the sword, which had barely a finger’s length of blade on it. “What’s that? A broken sword?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “I’m going to try and repair it when I’m more confident.”

“They say a broken sword is either great luck or bad luck. What do you think?” Don asked, nodding his head to the sword.

“I think it’s good luck,” Jack replied, placing the sword into his pack. “Though it might bring it later, once I’ve fixed it. What do you need?” he asked, trying to quickly change the topic.

Don noticed that Jack wanted to veer away from the sword, and it wasn’t his place to ask more questions about it. Though curious, he decided not to trouble the young lad. “Since the smithing has died down, I was wondering if you’d be able to create daggers and swords for us. The two are preferred weapons for most mercenaries, and everyone carries a dagger in their back pocket.”

“I can do that,” Jack replied, his eyes shining.

“Well, that’s not all. Can you make weapons which are two part cobalt?”

“With some effort,” Jack replied. “My success rate isn’t high, but I think I could.”

“Even if you can create only one sword or dagger, we’d be more than happy to compensate you for it. We’ll give you less than market rate, but we’ll take into consideration the materials used. If you’re lucky, we’ll pay you more, if you aren’t, well…” Don shrugged his shoulders. “Even if it ends up costing too much, I’ll take it off your hands for something.”

“Alright,” Jack said, nodding his head. “I can do that.” He looked at the various rods and then began to work the grindstone before checking the composition of each rod. “I’ll need to create the rod first it seems.”

“You can use up to half the cobalt in the project. I’ll pray that you can make a few, but even if it’s only one, that’s fine.” Don smiled and saluted the young man.

Jack looked down at the materials he had. He had enough cobalt and iron around that he could easily made a hundred rods, even a few longer rods. Making so many would be troublesome if he didn’t use them all. Instead, he decided to make five rods. He melted the iron and the cobalt and poured it into a mould they had on hand. As he waited for the rods to cool and form, he looked to his sword once again.

He then looked around and found some gem powder. He knew that it was expensive, but if he could remake the sword, it would definitely bring him great luck. Still, this wasn’t his gem powder or his forge, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d need to reforge the sword. There was no need to rush. Even if he didn’t fix it this year, he could always give it a proper go once he was a proper Smith and not just a Smith’s Apprentice.

“I’ll try to fix you another day,” he said, sighing. He then thought about his father, wondering what he was doing back home. What of Sir Ozcar and his wife, Dame Keri, and their children. He thought of Sir Anthony and how he was doing back home too. They had promised to share a drink together, and he had fun the last time they had drank. Then he thought of Milly and whether or not she had received the soap that he had bought for her. He wondered if he should buy some more soap now that he was making a steady stream of income.