Walking toward the forge he had visited the day before, Julian felt a small wave of relief.
It seemed like everyone had chosen to ignore his blunder during training, and for once, no one paid him any extra attention.
Kevin, the blacksmith, was too engrossed in his work to notice Julian's arrival.
Not wanting to disturb him, Julian stood quietly nearby, watching.
He observed as Kevin struck the heated metal a few times, then returned it to the blazing fire. After checking the temperature, the blacksmith brought the glowing piece back to the anvil, hammering it with sharp, precise movements before repeating the cycle.
It took about ten minutes for Kevin to finish shaping the metal.
After inspecting his creation carefully, turning it in his hands a few times, he finally looked up and noticed Julian, who had taken a seat nearby to wait.
"Don't tell me you're here asking for your swords," Kevin said gruffly, already returning his focus to the blade.
"I think I made it clear — you need to learn how to wield those sticks first."
He measured the edge of the blade against a small tool, calculating how much trimming was left to do.
Julian stood and spoke politely.
"No, sir. I saw the notice you posted. About needing help around the forge. I thought I'd try applying. Maybe learn a few things."
Kevin paused, squinting at him.
"I did post that, didn't I...? Must have been a while back," he muttered.
He scratched the side of his head, then shrugged.
"Fine. How about you start now?"
Kevin walked over to a stack of older weapons and grabbed a battered sword.
He tossed it toward Julian, who caught it awkwardly.
"We'll begin with sharpening blades," Kevin said, his tone firm.
"It's something you'll need to master. I'm not trusting you with our few ingots until you prove you can handle the basics."
He gestured toward a simple grinding setup — a large stone wheel attached to a pedal and band.
"First off, watch how I'm seated," Kevin said as he sat down.
"Take care of these tools. They're a pain to repair, and we can't replace them easily."
Kevin began pedaling smoothly, the wheel spinning faster until it reached a steady pace.
"Keep it spinning at this speed — constant, not jerky," he instructed.
"Then you push the blade's edge like this. Hold it from the back. Keep it at this angle."
He pressed the battered sword against the wheel at a perfect tilt.
Sparks flew in thin, steady streams as the blade kissed the rough stone.
"This way," Kevin continued, "you don't just make it sharp — you give it support. Keeps the edge from breaking when you actually use it."
Julian leaned in, watching closely.
It looked deceptively simple.
But he already knew... like everything else here, simple didn't mean easy.
Julian focused intently on Kevin's movements, trying to memorize every small detail.
The angle of the blade.
The steady rhythm of the wheel.
How the sparks danced when the steel kissed the rough stone.
Bit by bit, the grinding wheel chipped away at the metal, sharpening the edge without weakening it.
"Now then. Your turn," Kevin said, standing up after a few more passes over the blade.
Julian stepped forward, feeling a nervous flutter in his stomach.
He sat down, placed his foot on the pedal, and began spinning the wheel.
"A bit faster," Kevin instructed.
"And keep it constant. You start jerking the speed, you'll chew up the blade or warp the edge."
"Sure thing. How about this?" Julian asked, adjusting his rhythm until the wheel spun at a smooth, steady pace.
"Perfect," Kevin grunted.
"Now introduce the blade slowly. Same angle I showed you."
Julian carefully positioned the old sword and touched it lightly to the spinning wheel.
The first pass wasn't perfect — the blade wobbled slightly — but after a few more attempts, he started to find the right balance between pressure and patience.
Kevin, arms crossed, watched without saying a word for several minutes.
Finally, when Julian managed a full, even pass across the blade, Kevin gave a small nod.
"You're a quick learner," the blacksmith said gruffly.
"Blade's still not as sharp as I want it, but you didn't butcher it either. That's better than most."
Julian smiled a little, feeling a quiet surge of pride.
It wasn't easy — and it wasn't fast.
It took him nearly an hour to get the sword to a decent sharpness.
His legs ached from pedaling, and his fingers felt stiff from gripping the blade so carefully.
"Now," Kevin said, gesturing toward a wooden container nearby, "you'll keep practicing."
Inside were at least a dozen battered blades, each one dulled and scarred from use.
"Eventually, I expect you to sharpen a blade in under ten minutes," Kevin continued.
"Do it right, and maybe I'll raise your pay. But mess up..."
He tapped one of the heavier blades for emphasis.
"...and you'll pay for the materials you ruin."
Julian nodded, already feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him.
"If you find a blade too damaged to sharpen, don't waste your time. Bring it to me. I'll temper it before you wreck it more," Kevin added before turning back to his own work, hammering and shaping fresh weapons and kitchen knives.
Left on his own, Julian got to it.
At first, he thought the task would be easy.
The lighter swords weren't so bad — with enough focus, he could replicate the motion Kevin had shown him.
But then he reached the heavier blades.
Some were nearly half his size, forcing him to brace his whole body just to hold them steady.
His arms burned, his shoulders ached, and the grinding wheel suddenly felt a lot harder to control.
The real challenge wasn't just the technique.
It was having the strength — and the stubbornness — to keep going.
As evening approached, Kevin finally paused his work and turned his full attention to Julian.
Despite struggling throughout the day, the young man had stuck with it.
He hadn't complained, though he had taken short breaks here and there just to catch his breath.
Kevin could see the effort — and the determination — but he also saw the truth: Julian was still far from ready to handle the real demands of the forge.
The boy needed more than skill.
He needed muscle — and stamina.
"Julian, was it?" Kevin said, his voice firm but not unkind.
"Stop for the day."
Julian straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead, ready to hear whatever came next.
"I'll only say this," Kevin continued, crossing his arms.
"Work out. Get stronger. Even the weakest among us — Mrs. Suzi — is stronger than you."
Kevin's mouth twitched, as if holding back a grin.
"Spend more time tomorrow training. Tell Emma to get you some weights and teach you how to use them. Trust me — if you start working out, nothing you do here will feel hard."
Before Julian could answer, Kevin gave him a solid pat on the back.
Not enough to hurt — but enough to remind him that strength mattered here.
"Sure thing, sir," Julian said, nodding.
"I'll ask her tomorrow if I see her."
He meant it, too.
Today had been an eye-opener.
Doing the forge work had made him realize that strength wasn't just about fighting monsters.
It was about surviving every single day.
"I just want to earn enough to live comfortably," Julian added, feeling a small but real determination building inside him.
Kevin simply nodded, satisfied.
The two of them walked toward the dining area together.
Tonight, the atmosphere was different.
A crowd had gathered around a massive campfire, where a large boar was roasting slowly over thick, crackling flames.
The rich aroma of cooked meat filled the air, warm and heavy.
Julian's stomach growled loudly, and he couldn't help but gulp when the scent hit him full force.
It smelled better than anything he could remember in a long time especially after having worked so hard.