The Volkova [Blacksmith XIV]

[Saber]

    For many crafters, business is their lifeline. It is their income, and the way that they make a living in the world. The amount of traffic, or the number of people which flows through their store, defines their richness as well as their standing among the other men and women who have the same skillset as them. A merchant’s traffic in his store, stall or even on his mat, is a true showing of their power and their influence on the world. Every sword a blacksmith makes becomes an adventurer’s tool for survival. Every dish a cook makes keeps someone from going hungry. Every cloth that a tailor threads keeps someone warm in the cold nights. The higher the quality of items a crafter can put out, the more traffic they will get because of their better equipment, food, or clothes than someone else. A crafter must be prideful in their work and must be ready to accept that someone may be doing better business than them. However, they must also know when to change and adapt to the flow of the market. Doing business, whether it is creating something, buying materials, or selling a finished product, is a trade only the best are able to master. The market is not a stable thing and it cannot be trusted one-hundred percent. Those which fail are the ones whom have not prepared properly for the shifts that can occur at any moment.



    However, many craftsmen have realized that it is not only the quality of one’s product that brings in customers, but also their reputation is a factor. Advertising a product and spreading one’s name can bring in people who may be interested in such things. Spreading rumors or paying someone to spread one’s name can also increase traffic, as people would become curious about what they have been told. Another way to increase traffic is to create a “secret ingredient” or call one’s creation process “one of a kind”. Though such things are not always reliable and it may actually bring the wrong kind of attention to a store. Most crafters put signs up and call out to people in the streets in order to try and bring them over to their stall. Some with the right skills create massive houses and put up their works in the windows. Yet, that may not always be the best choice because it gives the customer the ability to continue on with their day, as there are plenty of others that they can do business with.



    With only one sign (a symbol more like) sitting over the entrance to the building he was given by his master, a quiet blacksmith chose to not advertise or spread his name at all. He chose to let the clients come to him. There were many reasons for his choice, but the first was curiosity. A small, rotted building with a finely crafted symbol over the door would bring in those who were curious about why the symbol would be attached to such a rundown place. Once opening the front door, an adventurer would see plenty of life around the room, and after wandering around; two books at a desk. After being awestruck by the sudden change between the outside and the inside, they may realize they need something made, and that would be when they would write a note in the books for whoever had left them. The blacksmith would then create what they needed, notify the player, and let them retrieve it whenever they were ready. Such a thing would create a mysterious aura about the building, rumors would spread, and more people would learn of it. Due to the building being on the opposite side of London compared to the rest of the crafters, his traffic would only be composed of those who truly wanted equipment made rather than those who would waste his time. And time was precious.

[Saber]

    At first, the blacksmith’s building was empty and he had grown used to it. The books remained unmoved and he was forced to dust them off occasionally. Yet his patience paid off as one day when he returned from gathering materials and hunting, the books had been moved. Written across the pages, someone had made a request. The man grinned at the sight and set down the bins of coal and iron he carried, freeing up his hands. He pulled up his menu, opened a message box, and copied the requested item’s description into the blank space. He put the subject as the name of the weapon and made sure to type the description word by word. The request was from an adventurer and their needs were very specific, so the weapon requested would have to be created to match. Every person had a different play style and it was the crafter’s job to adhere to such a thing. As the crafter copied the description over so he could refer to it later, he began to visualize the finished product and formed an image in his mind. From the words and the image, it seemed this player was more of the slicing type. Agility and speed over brute force perhaps, but he did not know. The name, Capsule, was also a new one so there was no reference point for him to base any assumptions off. It seemed that the man would be working blind. There would be no variations today, no big ones at least.



    With the description copied, the blacksmith opened up the wall to expose the hidden staircase and carried his crafting materials through it. He closed the wall behind him and descended to the library hidden beneath. As he walked, the man whistled and hummed to himself in order to pass the time as well as to keep himself entertained. It was a boring life sometimes, living in a place full of books and shelves, but he made do with what he had. The forge he stopped in front of after a short walk was a perfect size for his caliber of work, so he didn’t dare complain. The books he was surrounded by were filled with knowledge a crafter could only dream of, and there were thousands of those books waiting to be read. The player was content where he was, so he dealt with the boring side of life with a smile on his face. His Master, Salvestro, had given him the greatest gift of all; a choice. The novice blacksmith had a choice to either further his skills as a blacksmith and become a true merchant, or leave the library and continue with his own adventures. There was no locked door, no promise, and no quota the young man was forced to meet. Salvestro had given his apprentice free-will and supplied the young man only with the tools he would need to succeed. What the man did with them was out of the Master Blacksmith’s hands.



    Now, as Saber stood in front of his forge, he was intent on entering a world he had dreamed of ever since he created the carving which sat above the front door of the building above. His store, which was named The Funeral Parlor after a group from an anime he watched after going to college, would be doing its first form of business today. He was primarily a Hunter, but Saber had come to realize that hunting and killing would not get him everywhere in this world. He needed to be able to handle the needs of others if he wished to achieve his goal, so creating this weapon would make or break him. If he failed then he would have to start from the beginning, and Saber had no time for such things. Success was his only option.

[Saber]

    “Let us begin then…” A smile crossed Saber’s face and he tossed the coals, which were collected in one of his bins, into the raging belly of his furnace. Ash sprayed out in response, forcing Saber to step away. The black coals covered the dying flames and it took several seconds before they began to heat up. The fire was dying and Saber was forced to make several trips in order to refill his stocks. He had thought the fire would last longer than it had but that didn’t matter anymore. The coals lit and burned brightly, changing from black to red as they heated. The novice blacksmith stuffed his bellows into the side of the furnace and pumped pressurized air into the bottom of the pile, feeding the flames and causing the temperature to skyrocket. If he was outside, there was no doubt that his chimney would be alive with smoke. The thought of seeing such activity made the player chuckle a little.



    When the flames were hot enough, Saber grabbed a thick piece of iron ore he had mined early and opened the front door of his own personal piece of hell. Reaching in, the man set the ore right in the center of the fresh coals. He then shut the door and let the fire do its magic while he moved on to other things. As the ore in the furnace heated, Saber poured the remaining coals into their respective bin and did the same for his iron. He had three bins; one for coal, one for iron, and one he had designated for steel that he would create later on. There was a fourth, but that was a compilation of different materials that he used to create handles for his weapons. He generally left that bin alone and would do so again today for the time being. With his materials collected and organized, Saber moved to his tool table and collected the equipment he needed; a large and a small hammer, a chisel, a large and small pair of tongs, gloves, a safety apron, and a pair of goggles. He carried everything over to the anvil and swiftly put on the gloves, apron, and goggles as to ensure his safety while working. He had been burned a few times, and his shirt had a few holes in it as well. He didn’t exactly enjoy being torched.



    Glancing over his shoulder, Saber looked into his furnace and noticed that the ore was almost prepared. It had heated a little faster than expected but that was a good thing. Saber didn’t have to wait a long now. So, he grabbed the large pair of tongs and opened up the front door to the raging inferno. Heat washed over his face and the dry air caused him to cough hard. Once he got his breathing under control, he snagged the superhot iron ore and pulled it out from the pit. In haste, he placed the object on his anvil and began to hammer away. The large tool he held smashed the iron ore, slowly flattening and forming the object to the image Saber had in his mind. It would take time to create such an item, but patience was something Saber had for this part of his life, as it was a requirement. If it was one thing that the novice blacksmith knew it was that one had to work with the ore, not against it.



    But, Saber did have one concern; the curve. The weapon he was forming needed a curve to it, much like a talon and doing so was not easy. The man had only created straight swords and daggers so far for himself, and all of which had been smelted back down before he decided to experiment with any of them. Today would not only be a challenge for him to put out a liked product; it would also be a day where he would have to put an experiment into a product a player would be using. The thought of creating a crappy weapon made Saber worry, but he had no choice but to continue. The ore in front of him was already beginning to take shape; there was no going back. The blacksmith hunkered down and switched hammers, changing from his “clanger” to one which would be more precise; he was in it for the long haul.

[Saber]

    As Saber heated the ore once more, he took in a deep breath, inhaling the dry air from the furnace like it was fuel to the fire which kindled in his own chest. The half-finished weapon in the tongs he held lit like magma and before it could melt, Saber retracted it and turned to his anvil. This time, he placed the sharp edge of the ore down on the point of his metal tool. With the pick-end of his smith hammer, the player began to carefully tap and bend the weapon slightly around the anvil’s point. The ore flared at the motion and it showed signs that it may break, but Saber continued. With a steady hand, and a held breath, the blacksmith carefully curved the ore. He visualized the image of a hawk’s talon, visualized its curve, the perfection in the bend, and carefully transferred the image into reality. At first, the player curved the thicker base of the ore and gradually increased the arc as he moved towards the middle of the blade. However, as he moved a few inches up, Saber took much gentler swings at the object, but increased the number as he created a small wave in the blade. He didn’t get a lot of time to work and as the ore began to cool, Saber was forced to reheat it.



    The craftsman used the time spent on heating the object to see how much he had curved the ore, and as he mentally placed the image of the hawk talon on top of the weapon’s base; he saw that he was close. It would not be long now, but he would have to remain vigilant. The heated ore was fragile because of its shape, so Saber had to give it some tender, love, and care now. When he returned to the anvil with the nearly completed weapon, the blacksmith put all of his focus into mending the curve. His lungs burned as he held his breath, but he continued to work the metal. His world began to darken as the amount of oxygen in his body reached drastically low levels, but his focus sharpened. The hot orange object in front of him was the only thing he could see and with one final swing, Saber lifted the ore. Taking in a deep breath, the blacksmith returned from his zombie like state and grinned.



    One last time, Saber placed his creation into the furnace. It heated quickly and Saber took it out just as fast. At the anvil, the blacksmith put in the final touches on the blade, sharpening the edge and fixing the point to give it a bit of a hook. Then, he focused on the base, rounding it slightly to create a firm handle which he could work with. He curved the base in a few places, creating a few indents for the user to place their fingers in. He also thinned out the space a few centimeters from the absolute bottom of the weapon, forming a small bumper so the user’s hand wouldn’t slip so easily. Before the ore could cool any further and force him to reheat it, Saber took his chisel and added his own little touch to the backside of the weapon; serrating a few inches near the tip. The weapon itself was nineteen inches in length, six reserved for the handle and thirteen of it being bladed. As Saber gave the final touch of smoothing the weapon with his hammer, thinning the blade slightly, he was proud of what he saw. After his final swing, the player dunked the hot metal into the trough full of water that was off to his right. The high temperature caused the water to turn into steam immediately upon contact, and Saber was forced to lean away from the cloud of hot air. When the weapon was cooled, Saber placed it onto his anvil and walked to his work bench. There, he pulled over a small urn and peered inside. It took a bit of digging, but after a few moments he pulled out an engraving tool.

[Saber]

    The final touch was something requested specifically from the client, so Saber would adhere to it. He placed the tip of the tool into the furnace, heating it, and then moved over to the weapon on the anvil. With very gentle care, Saber dug the image of a wolf into the flat edge of the weapon. Rather than just make a boring dog, Saber made sure to increase the amount of detail. He gave the wolf a small row of teeth, made a few marks to show its fur, and carved the ears so they were folded back slightly as if the wolf was glaring towards the tip of the machete. When one side was done, Saber reheated his tool and flipped the blade over. Using the initial image as a reference, Saber created the other side of the wolf’s face. When the base was finished, Saber added a few finishing touched to the head and then dipped the weapon into the water again to ensure the image wouldn’t change. Though, before he put the engraving tool away, Saber flipped the weapon up and exposed the bottom of the weapon. Very carefully, Saber inscribed the emblem of his store; a small coffin with a few minor details within its edges. The marking didn’t take as much work as the wolf head, but the finished product was something Saber was happy with.



    The blade itself was finished, but Saber’s work was not. He brought the weapon over to his tool table and gathered a few bottles around himself. He sat at the wooden stool and leaned forward close to his work. Very gently, the player began to polish the edge, cleaning off the black soot that had fallen onto the iron. Underneath all the ugly coating of brown and black, a lovely silver finish slowly came to life. Forming the weapon took time, but making it look just as nice took even longer. The rough hands of the blacksmith were forced to be gentle as they flowed over the blade. It was as if he was making love to the creation, and the thought of such a thing made Saber laugh. The blade had a soul inside of it, and with every touch, Saber could feel its heart pulse. It was a feminine heartbeat, and it had a very kind flow to it. As his fingers brought the beauty of the kukri out, he could almost see the woman beneath it. It was like a makeover almost and he could almost see the woman’s smile. Using a bit of metal tendering, the blacksmith placed a thin piece of leather over the handle to enhance the grip of the handle and used another tiny knife to cut it into place. With a bit of heating, Saber melted the leather to the weapon to ensure it wouldn’t come free very easily.



    Finalizing his creation, Saber took a few pieces of hard black leather and formed a holster for the kukri to sit inside of. He used a few rings of metal to help brace the leather together then carefully molded everything into one strong piece. Using his inscribing tool, Saber copied the image of the wolf head onto both sides of the holster and then cleaned it up with a light brush of polish. Just as he had done with the blade’s metal, Saber also polished the exposed iron rings that kept the holster as one piece, causing them to shimmer a little. When the holster was finished, Saber slid the kukri inside of it to ensure it fit. A gentle tap from the top metal ring against the metal handle was enough verification for the blacksmith.



    Closing the furnace marked the final movement to the weapon’s creation and as he realized it; Saber couldn’t help but smile wide. He drew the weapon from its sheathe and looked at his own reflection in the machete. At the sight, he felt a warm hand fall on his heart. It was a beautiful piece, and he couldn’t help but want to keep it all for himself. Yet, the weapon in front of him may have been his child; but it did not belong to him. The blacksmith returned the weapon to its bed and made his way through the library to the staircase. As he walked, he opened up a message box and typed in the recipient; Capsule. Then, he wrote a notification message…

"Capsule,

Your weapon has been created. Your payment will be three potions. Feel free to retrieve your weapon at any time. It will be in the urn to the right of the desk. Feel free to place the potions either inside the urn, or on the desk. I hope you enjoy your weapon and thank you for your business.

-Funeral Parlor Blacksmith”

When he was finished, Saber pressed the send button and opened the wall-door. He took one of the small urns which were used for decorations around the room and placed it to the side of the desk which was used as a sort of check-in area. The player slipped the weapon inside the large container and then placed the lid over the top. With his job finished, Saber made his way back into the stairwell and closed the door behind him. Hopefully this Capsule player would enjoy his work as much as he did.