“Thank you very much. With this I can finally get the forge running.”

  “Thank you for the order. By the way, Aneth asked us to tell you to talk to her if you make anything worth selling.”

  We say goodbye while I gaze in fascination at the warehouse full of material, comparing it to how it looked just a few days ago.

  “Alright, time to get to work. There’s still a lot of day left.”

  Lighting a forge isn’t an easy task. The first step is the base. I make a nest with wood shavings. The fire gem will be useful later, but it consumes too much mana to use throughout the whole process, at least until I’ve increased my capacity.

  I light the shavings and gently use the bellows to feed the flame. Once it’s ready, I add some pieces of wood and keep fanning the fire. Soon I have enough embers to start adding charcoal. Starting a fire from scratch and getting it up to temperature consumes a lot of fuel.

  By the time I reach the desired temperature, half the morning has already passed. I don’t have much material, so I decide to start with the simplest thing according to the book. A nail.

  The process is simple. I heat the end of one of the iron bars and bring it to the anvil. I’m grateful for the gloves I bought yesterday when I see the orange color of the metal.

  I hadn’t been aware of the hammer’s real weight until I started using it. Just a few strikes and my arm is already burning. I try to shape the tip, but my blows are imprecise, and I end up bending the tip and ruining the material.

  I have to cut the material and start over. I don’t give up. I try several times until I finally get the tip I was looking for. I can barely feel my right arm, but it was worth it. Still, I’m not done yet.

  The next step is cutting the material. Simple. Finally, I place the nail into the heading tool and hammer it until I form the head.

  At last, a success.

  Hammer Handling has increased to level 1.

  The message startles me, though I can’t pay it much attention right now.

  The nail isn’t perfect. It’s not even pretty and it’s a little crooked. But I made it with my own hands. And for now, that’s enough.

  Before I realize it, it’s lunchtime and my stomach growls. I set aside the gloves and the rest of the equipment and go wash up. Luckily there’s a well nearby where I can clean off the soot.

  “Ter!” my sister greets me when I return. “Want to eat together?”

  “Sure.”

  We sit under the same tree as always.

  “Did you get the forge lit yet?”

  “Yes, I even forged my first nails, though it took me a while. I lost count of the failed attempts.”

  “Be careful,” my sister says when she sees I have to eat with my left hand because I can barely lift my right arm. “But congratulations! I guess that officially makes you a blacksmith.”

  “Yes, even though it’s supposed to be the simplest thing to start with, and it still cost me a lot of effort. When I get better, I’ll make you something you can carry with you.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Of course! I want to be the first one you give something to.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to move my arm for a couple of days.”

  We both laugh while enjoying the food and the good weather.

  “I see you’ve been gathering wood from the forest.”

  “Yes, Father said it was fine as long as I didn’t use too much. Actually, the forest is too small to exploit commercially, so it’s good to clear it out once in a while so it doesn’t spread too much. He even sent a servant to help me.”

  “I see things are going pretty well. Looks like I’ll be able to leave next week without worrying.”

  “Yes. Honestly, it’s strangely satisfying to create something with your own hands.”

  “Well, I have to go back. Are you going to keep working at the forge?”

  “I’ll try. I added some powdered charcoal so the embers wouldn’t die out, but I don’t know if my arm can take much more.”

  “Alright, but don’t push yourself too hard. If you get hurt, it’ll be worse.”

  “See you later.”

  I return to the forge and stir the charcoal to reactivate it. I don’t know what I would’ve done without the gem. Maybe I can’t use it to light or maintain the fire, but a minimal mana cost lets me fine-tune the temperature much better. Without it, I think it would’ve taken me much longer to succeed.

  Fire Control has increased to level 1.

  I feel a growing euphoria inside me. I finally feel like I’m truly becoming a blacksmith. I never thought it could be this fun despite the exhaustion.

  I try to continue working, but as time passes I waste more and more material. I put out the forge because I’ve already accepted that tomorrow I won’t be able to make good use of the day. I should’ve listened to my sister.

  I gather the handful of nails I managed to make. They’re not perfect, but they’re good enough. I head back to the mansion happy and completely worn out. On the way, I try to loosen up my fingers. The hammer’s vibrations echo in my bones and increase the fatigue.

  “Hello,” I greet Mr. Porten when I arrive. “Do you think it would be possible for me to have a quick dinner and go to bed? I’m exhausted and can barely lift my right arm.”

  “Luckily your father and your brothers had to go out, and the young miss had an engagement.”

  “Did something happen? It’s unusual for them to go out at this hour, and it’s not the first time in the past few days.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s been more monster activity than usual,” he hesitates before continuing. “There’s been a breach from the water dungeon.”

  “Is it that bad? I know very few adventurers go there because it’s hard to recover bodies from the water, but I didn’t think it was that serious.”

  “I it’s not profitable for them. Even with missions, fighting in water is much more complicated. In most of the dungeon the water is at least knee-high, which makes movement difficult.”

  “Not many people are willing to risk their lives without profit.”

  “We’ll bring your meal to your room.”

  Porten is clearly ending the conversation. Normally these topics aren’t discussed at the table. Meetings are held in my father’s study. Needless to say, I haven’t been invited recently.

  I’m grateful to be able to eat alone in my room. There’s something I’ve been putting off. I don’t want to do it, but it’s time to look at my own stats again. I haven’t looked at them since the day of the baptism. I think I didn’t want to admit that I really was a blacksmith. My life changed that day, and not for the better.

  “Here goes.”

  I focus on myself, and a window appears floating in front of me with all my information.

  Name: Termin Briemen

  Class: blacksmith lvl 2

  Age: 10 years old

  Titles:

  Skills: swordsmanship lvl 3; hammer handling lvl 1; fire control lvl 1.

  Stats:

  Strength: 10

  Endurance: 10

  Agility: 8

  Intelligence: 9

  Charisma: 5

  Luck: 6

  Magical Capacity: 15

  Constitution: 9

  Talents:

  Eyes of the artisan lvl 1

  ??????

  ??????

  I’m surprised by the increase in magical capacity—when I first looked it was 5—and I’m glad to see hammer handling and fire control among my skills. It seems today’s work paid off. Not only that, I now have confirmation of my first talent.

  My gaze, however, is fixed elsewhere.

  I’ve finally reached level 2.