Upon hearing Dean's words, the blacksmith got pumped up. He looked with excited eyes towards Dean. Somehow, the energy exuded by that buddy was something contagious. Before, he just wanted to sit down and rest for a while, but now he couldn't wait to start to forge.
The man went to see what Dean brought to him, inspecting carefully item by item and counting them. He reviewed his count a second time, then gave Dean a thumbs up.
"With my share taken, these materials are enough to make a short sword, more or less with the same length as this one on your back. What do you think?"
"That's exactly what I wanted!"
"I figured out. After all, a kid like you can't wield a long or great sword, but soon you will catch up. I see that your muscles are growing already, and so might be your strength." He gave a light slap on Dean's arms, chuckling.
Dean nodded his head, showing off his body like a bodybuilder, making the weirdest poses with a manly expression.
"What do you mean by 'growing already'? Don't you see my bear-like muscles? I could beat any man of this refuge if I wanted to!"
The man burst out laughing while walking inside the smithy, going to a corner. There, hanging on a leather strap, was that black hammer he was using the day before.
He took it from there, then went in front of him again. He offered the hammer solemnly.
"As I promised, here it is the hammer that I use every day to do my works. I hope it is to your liking."
Dean accepted that tool with resolute eyes. He was sure that it would be of good use.
"Don't worry." He spoke, analyzing carefully the state of the hammer. "This tool seems to be of good quality and well cared for. It's not too different from the one I use on The Forge, though it's slightly bigger. Anyway, thank you." He bowed to the man, showing his gratitude.
"You are welcome. After all, you paid for this. Also, you still need to show to me those techniques. I am curious to know if they have this much of difference in the northern smithy." The man went beside the anvil, crossing his arms and waiting for Dean to start to do things.
Apparently, he was willing to see everything, even the process of preparing the materials to start his craft.
Dean didn't bother by that. Actually, he liked to have someone to talk with when he was working. Before, at The Forge, he often conversed with his uncle. They both worked in anvils quite close to each other, so they could talk.
The boy began the process to refine materials. Meanwhile, he spoke to the blacksmith.
"Hey, I am curious about something. It is bothering me since the day I arrived here."
The man was surprised to have Dean talking to him. Actually, he was used to working silently. His father didn't like when people spoke with him when he was doing his work, so Frederick got the same habit as him.
He was kind of perplexed, but since Dean didn't care about that matter, then he answered right away.
"Oh, well you can ask. That's fine."
"You know, I came from an area where there weren't too many Dreads. There are some areas in the north where they just show up on specific dates. And our refuge had slightly more defenses than yours. So I was wondering how your folk survived all this time without any proper defense. I know that this place has a lot of Dreads around, after all."
Dean tried to make the most convincing lie that he could think of. He was still conscious about what his group thought about his refuge, so he wasn't going to talk about it with anyone that appeared in front of him, even though this person could have a good relationship with him.
Frederick was surprised again with that boy. He was utterly expecting a question regarding forge, but he came with something completely different.
"Oh, boy, you touched right on the wound, huh? I never thought you would be so insensitive..." Frederick spoke, joking around.
"Hehe, I am just curious." Dean shrugged.
The man sat on a chair, meditating for a while on that matter.
"Well, the thing is that we don't survive. We die." Upon hearing that phrase, Dean's heart throbbed and he felt a chill running down his spine.
"When there is a raid on our refuge, we take our horses and ride to the most faraway refuge that we find. They can whether kick us from there or help us to conquer our home again and rebuilt what is lost. If they kick us, we need to keep wandering for days until we can go back.
"However, most people here don't have a horse. You know, some domesticated animals are immune to "Chaos". There are Ascendants with spells that can protect them, so they won't be affected by it. However, there are just a few, and they are too expensive."
The blacksmith had a grim expression, his arms were crossed and tightly squeezing his chest as if he was cold.
"So, you mean that most of the population can just run away and pray not to be targeted? The majority always end up dying?" Dean asked in a low voice.
"Yes. And our constant call for help ends up getting our refuge with lots of debts with other refuges. So most of the items that we produce are not for us, but others. Also, the people living here are survivors who could run away from a poorer refuge and traveled across Saphyr, looking for another one. Believe it or not, our refuge is in a better state than most of the others out there. That's why we can maintain our population high."
After Frederick finished telling him all of that, Dean remained silent. He had a poker face while working on those materials, but deep inside a part of him was crying.
Every day he discovered more about the cruelty of their new world. Apocalypse was little to address that situation.