Sebastian stood at the portable forge in Richard's weird mobile shop, the heat from the burning coals washing over him in waves.
Luckily it was winter, so even underground, in the refuge, that heat wasn't enough to make the refuge a burning hell, even with so many people working on forges.
Regardless of the challenging conditions, sweat beaded on his brow as he worked the metal. Each movement of his hands was executed with careful precision, honed through repetition and constant revising thanks to Miles's spell.
Beside him, two copies of himself worked in tandem; they were working on different parts of the blade. One was working on the scabbard, while the other was working on the sword's handle.
These helpers were not the usual illusions Sebastian made, but physical manifestations, brought to life by the tier-1 skill of the armament maker profession.
