After the minor incident on my birthday, I have been asking my father for my first weapon, and although he still thinks I won't be able to use it, he has agreed to let me go to the blacksmith and ask for work there.
It makes sense to him, and I can understand why he would want me to work for it, but aren't there any laws against child labor? Oh, yeah, no, this is the same world where kids become adults at twelve, so what would be wrong with child labor, uh?
Anyway, I wanted my first weapon, so I went to the town's blacksmith after school. The shop was hot, and I could hear the clear clattering sound of the hammer strokes against the anvil.
"How can I help you today?"
"Hi, I'm Anabel. I was looking for work?"
"Gerald's kid? What makes you think I can pay for your salary? Don't you see how slow sales have been?"
"I just wanted to earn myself a weapon; I'm sorry to bother you, sir!"
His voice and tone were discouraging; I had high spirits, but this buff man was scary; his musculature differed from everyone else's. He was rough-looking, and his mean face did not help him whatsoever.
"Hold on, kid, if you want a weapon as a payment, then I suppose I can do that. Just be aware that I'm going to really exploit the shit out of you."
Well, at least he was honest from the beginning; I couldn't ask for much else. If he had agreed to pay for my work with a weapon, then that was good enough for me, even if he had admitted to child labor exploitation right in my face.
Work began soon enough, and oh man, this old geezer was not joking when he said he would exploit me. Phew, give me a break already! It's my first day in the shop, and I already feel like quitting!
"Come on, kid, faster! Where is the goddam wood at?!"
"Coming, coming!" {Heavy teenager panting}
My first task pushed me to my very limits; he had ordered me to chop down some more wood so he could turn it into coal, but the rate at which I could swing the giant axe was excruciatingly slow.
It must have weighed at least nine pounds! That was like one-sixth of my entire weight, so swinging the dam thing took all of my strength, let alone do it repeatedly and fast. I was slowly dying while carrying out the task.
Breaks were non-existent in this world, so during the entire time, I couldn't even stop for a second without the old man nagging me to go back to work. It was demoralizing, but I was learning an important lesson.
Being a blacksmith was awful; it was just the first day, but I was already seeing how awful this work was; it was messy and miserable; man really puts into perspective how much work goes into making a sword.
On my first day of work, I had stupidly worn my school clothes to work, and because I was working until the sun had gone down, I ended up with my clothes all dirtied, covered in ashes, and drenched in sweat.
I had miscalculated how much work I would do. I mean, it was a fantasy world; I was expecting something a little less harsh, but it was the complete opposite. Of course, it was.
Think about it: if being a blacksmith could be achieved easily with magic in a world where magic is everything, why would there still be specialized Blacksmith shops? It was clearly a physical profession.
Despite how harsh the day had been, though, I had weirdly enjoyed it. It felt like I was finally being useful in at least some capacity despite my young age, even if I had no money at the end of my first day.