[External P.O.V]
The rhythmic clang of hammer against metal filled the small village forge, a sound as familiar as birdsong to those who lived in Stonehaven. Smoke curled upward from the furnace, dancing in the crisp morning air.
A blacksmith's apprentice worked tirelessly, his lean frame bent over the anvil as sparks leapt around him. His name was Edric, and though he was but an apprentice, though almost finishing his learning, his hands moved with the grace of a master.
Even as a teenager, Edric's touch had been rather different than his tutor's. His hands—strong yet delicate—worked metal as if it was a mere extension of himself. His master, an old smith named Torman, boasted to his fellow villagers that Edric learned in a month what others struggled with for years.
As unlikely as such a statement might have seemed at first, clients of the experienced artisan—usually neighbors living nearby or merchants passing through in their journey towards the Eyrie would soon come to discover the truth of those words.
Knives and axes, hammers and pickaxes, nails and horse shoes, even the occasional sword though uncommon would be taken and remade into something their original self would pale in comparison too.
It was unnatural, and some were quick to notice as such, but mostly chalked it to the blessing of the smith, one of the seven or the old gods wherever there worship lied.
And if one—like Edric here— knew the full story. They would realise that they weren't so wrong as to think as such, after all the black haired and blue-eyed teen had indeed been reborn with a great gift.
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A hedge knight came into the shop at this very moment. The man was rough, his armor dented and worn, but his eyes gleamed with a certain vigor.
"Greetings lads, I got lost on my way to the Eyrie. I've heard from the folk here that your craft was pretty darn good," he said, interrupting the rhythmic clang of the smithy's hammer.
Torman, as the older man left his apprentice to his devices before gruffly demanding.
"What is you want, Ser?"
Resting his hands on the hilt of a battered longsword, the knight replied calmly. "I don't have much coin, but I do need ya to turn my old damaged blade into a reliable sword that won't let me down. I hope it can be done as soon as possible."
Edric's eyes scanned the man, before rapidly greeting him with a warm smile, and nodding. Torman replied. "You're in luck mate, the lad is fast and he's good. You sure you want him to repair that sword of yours? He can easily make ya a new one, and the price ain't to big compared to a repair, Ser."
The knight placed a handful of silver stags.
"Just a repair, not many smallfolk black smith know or have the equipment to make a longsword. Besides I've grown too damn attached to that thing." the man chuckled.
It was not much, but it would do for a simple repair. He would have charged more considering his apprentice's skill and the impeccable repair the boy would operate, but their shop had little renown and was barely known exept by the villagers who hardly had much money themselves.
Instead, he decided on the next best thing, making use of his experience in bargaining from his many years as an artisan.
"Sorry mate, I know you wont believe me but that's not enough."
His client raised an eyebrow, first mocking and then curious. The old blacksmith knew he was hard to believe and obviously intended to prove what he meant.
"Tell you what, since this is your first time buying from here I'll give you a little discount. In exchange I just need you to give a little heads up to anyone who asks where the blade comes from."
"Fine by me, as long as your craft meets the expectations you have raised."
"It will take me the day," Edric said. "Come back this eve."
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(A few hours later)
The knight returned, and when Edric placed the finished blade in his hands, the man's breath caught. The sword was unlike any he had wielded before—perfectly made its steel gleaming like polished silver, though rather dark in color, the edge so fine it seemed to hum in the air.
The knight tested it, swinging it through the air with ease. Shock and awe was evident on his face.
"Seven hells," he whispered. "How did you do that? turning my old scrap into this beauty. You sure this isn't new? This is the finest sword I have ever held!!"
Edric simply nodded. "You asked for something that won't fail you in battle did you not? Well here it is. Like my Master asked previously, all we desire is for you to spread the word if you meet any of your fellow hedge knights or anyone someone of notable importance. It takes money to keep our small forge up and running. Not even any unnecessary flattery, just that Edric of Stonehaven near the Eyrie made the weapon you now carry."
The knight's stunned expression soon turned casual. "Some flowery words from some small blacksmith don't you think? But then again you are no ordinary artisan."
The teen chuckled.
The man pressed a two shiny moons into Edric's palm to express his gratitude. "I like to think of myself as an honorable man. I now understand why your teacher said this would be too expensive." He expressed his gratitude. "For something this fine, this is all I can spare, but make no mistake, I swear before the Seven, I'll will speak of your craft."
"Thank you, ser." Edric wished the man.
"May the seven bless you on your journey"
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