Two months before
"William!"
Bortez the blacksmith called out to his apprentice. A tall, well-built young man who was forging a long iron blade with a large hammer. The sound of the crash was deafening, rattling the entire dark, stuffy and hot workshop. He didn't stop. It seemed that he had not heard Bortez's call at all.
The blacksmith knew William didn't have a problem with his hearing. The young man's ears could be very sharp if he wanted to. Despite the sound of metal banging and also wearing earplugs, he could usually hear the call. So Bortez was sure that William wasn't hearing now not because he was deaf, but because he had returned to his bad habit: daydreaming while working.
So he called again, "William!"
This time the dark brown-haired youth stopped his work. The crashing sound subsided. He turned his head back, revealing his seemingly innocent face. "Yes, Uncle?"
"Your iron is still red! Still too hard to beat. What a waste of energy! Try heating again, wait until the color turns yellow. I told you a hundred times. Yes, I know you like banging but spare your energy for other works, and other important things too!"
"Yes, yes, Uncle, sorry. But, … tell me, apart from work, what other things are also important, for example?"
"Huh? You find out for yourself. Just look what your friends are doing out there!"
"Well … farming, raising livestock, looking for wood," William retorted. "Unfortunately, I've only recently realized that it's all boring."
Bortez nodded at the thought, then chuckled. "Yeah, you weren't wrong."
"But, there is one that isn't. Traveling with the girls in the village." William smirked. "Ah, yes, maybe I will. Uncle, can I take Muriel with me?"
Bortez glared as his daughter's name was called. "Now that I think about it, you'd better stay here! After all, this is the best job for you."
William just chuckled, then looked lost again.
It seemed that something was indeed bothering him.
Bortez gave up. "That's it, you better get some rest. That's enough for today."
William looked at him in surprise. "Shall we close early? How about the order of Master … Master Black—what's his name?"
"Mornitz? It's finished." Bortez pointed to a sword wrapped in thick cloth in the corner of the workshop. "He didn't ask for the scabbard to be made. He said a sword would suffice."
"Too bad. It's a good sword though."
"Good, because the iron is good, and the one who worked it is also good." Bortez chuckled, boasting a little. "Perhaps I'll make the scabbard as a bonus when I get back from Prutton. I don't think he'll be here in a few days."
They turned off the stove and cleaned up the tools, then sat on the terrace in front of the workshop, sipping the steaming spiced tea served on a small table. The drink was enough to quench their thirst as well as warm their body on a cold afternoon. Muriel, the only daughter of Bortez, had brought the drink earlier, but the girl had already left again somewhere.
Both of them relaxed their arms, back, and legs. Bortez looked at William who was lost in thought again. Obviously, something was bothering the young man. Several times William looked like he was about to open his mouth to talk, but he always kept it back.
"Anything on your mind?" Bortez finally asked.
William was pensive, before replying, "Uncle, you are the nicest person in the world after my mother. Your gift to us is immeasurable. You gave me a job and taught me many things. I am very grateful."
Bortez raised his eyebrows in surprise. Normally William was never this serious. The young man likes to joke.
"Yeah … it's because I don't have a son, William. That's why," he answered frankly. "I think you know that."
"Yes. You even said you wanted to leave this workshop to me." William laughed.
"I can't pass it on to my daughter, can I?"
"Hm, about that, why not? I think it should be possible. Yes, she's a girl, and a little frivolous, but she's smart, quick to learn, strong, and always trying hard. You should have more confidence in your daughter. I wonder why you always hesitate." William took a leisurely sip of his hot drink.
"Did you just talk to Muriel?" Bortez asked suspiciously.
"That's my own thought. After all, you should be the one discussing this with Muriel, not me. Don't you feel sorry for her?"
"Huh? Sorry? What do you mean?"
"You don't care about her."
"What are you talking about? I just don't want her to work like a man in a workshop! She should be doing something … mmm, a job, that she deserves more!"
"What kind of job?" William asked dryly. "Is there a lot of work options for us in this village, or even in Ortleg?"
"Hmm … no. But still … I mean … jobs that should be more suitable for women." Bortez scowled, before finally taking a deep breath. "Huh, okay, I'll talk about it later." He nodded as he regained his composure. "Yeah, maybe she'll be able to run this smithy later … with you. You know, soon you two will grow up, and I think it's about time you—"
"Uncle, I've been thinking too," William cut in as if he knew what Bortez wanted to talk about and so avoided him. The youth was silent for a moment, then continued, "I guess … I don't want to be a blacksmith forever."
"What? Hey, hey, just a minute." Bortez could hardly believe his ears. "What's this? It feels like just yesterday I heard you wanted to be the best blacksmith in the world. Why? What is it? Come on, you must be just bored. How about you practice making a good sword again? Yes? I'll teach you a few things later. Look, forging is only the first step, the most important thing is the next step, measuring the hardness and flexibility in every corner—"
"Yes, yes. Hard in the blade, flexible in the middle."
"Well, talking is always easy," said Bortez. "But you should know, that's where the art of making good swords lies. Adjust the proper cooling so that the hardness and flexibility of the sword can be formed. If the process is successful, grinding and the final process will be easier."
Bortez was always excited when he talked about sword making. He never hesitated to share knowledge. William usually always paid close attention to his words. But this time the youth's anxiety seemed to be unbearable.
"May I speak a little more, Uncle?"
"Hmm … of course. Please."
"I'm sixteen now, and I think I already know what I want to do with my life."
Bortez looked at him suspiciously. "What's that?"
"Become a sword warrior!" William raised his fist.
Bortez gaped at the young man's childish gesture.
Has this kid gone mad?