Three months had passed since Kalem arrived in Maelon with the Lynthian Crystal, his journey taking an unexpected turn. The crystal still weighed heavily in his mind, its mysteries unresolved, yet his priorities had shifted. He had found a temporary position in one of the city's oldest and most renowned forges, earning a modest wage and, more importantly, gaining invaluable experience.
The forge where Kalem worked, "Ironflame Armory," was run by a towering man named Garrick—an intimidating, seasoned blacksmith with a voice like thunder and arms as thick as tree trunks. Kalem had stumbled upon the forge while exploring the market district. Its crimson-tiled roof and sturdy walls radiated heat even from a distance, a testament to the intense work that went on within.
The memory of their first meeting was still fresh in Kalem's mind.
He had walked in, hopeful but nervous, watching the workers hammer away at red-hot metal, shaping blades, armor, and intricate pieces. Garrick had spotted him immediately, narrowing his eyes as Kalem approached.
"What do you want, boy?" Garrick had asked, his voice a rough growl, softened only by a glint of curiosity.
Kalem swallowed, gripping the small dagger he'd forged himself as a sample. "I'm looking for work...and a mentor, if you'll have me."
Garrick raised a bushy eyebrow. "You know your way around a forge, do you?" He motioned for Kalem to hand him the dagger, examining it carefully.
Kalem's piece, though simple, was finely crafted. The blade was honed, the handle sturdy, and the balance precise. Garrick nodded, not giving away his thoughts. "Passable," he said. "But if you're serious, you'll have to prove yourself. Ironflame doesn't take in just anyone."
Kalem nodded eagerly, willing to do whatever it took. Garrick grunted and led him to a small anvil near the main workspace, its surface littered with unfinished projects and stray metal shards.
"Here's your test," Garrick said, gesturing to a pile of scrap metal. "Forge me something useful out of that pile. I don't care what it is, so long as it's sturdy and functional. You have until nightfall."
With that, Garrick turned his back, leaving Kalem to the task. Kalem's excitement was quickly tempered by the weight of the challenge. The pile of metal was rusted, uneven, and warped—nothing like the quality materials he'd used in his family's workshop. But he'd faced tougher odds before, and he wasn't about to back down.
Kalem grabbed a piece of steel and began to work, his hands moving with the confidence he had learned from countless hours at his father's forge. He heated, hammered, and shaped the metal, coaxing it into submission. Hours passed as he labored, sweat pouring down his brow, his muscles aching. The other workers occasionally cast curious glances his way, some even offering quiet encouragement.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kalem finished his piece—a small hand axe with a sturdy, well-balanced handle and a gleaming, sharp edge. He placed it on the anvil, exhausted but proud.
Garrick returned, inspecting the axe with a keen eye. He tested its weight, ran his thumb along the blade, and even swung it at a wooden post nearby. The axe bit deeply into the wood, proving its strength.
"A fine piece," Garrick said, a rare smile crossing his face. "You've got skill, lad. Welcome to Ironflame."
Now, three months later, Kalem had settled into his role, performing routine tasks around the forge—cleaning, fetching materials, and assisting with minor repairs. But Garrick had gradually given him more responsibilities, recognizing his growing skill and dedication. Kalem had learned so much under Garrick's guidance, refining his technique and learning the finer points of crafting armor and weapons.
Garrick's lessons were harsh but invaluable, each one a practical test of Kalem's endurance and skill. For Kalem, this was more than work; it was a way to hone himself, and he took every challenge to heart. He knew the experience would one day make him worthy of unlocking the secrets of the Lynthian Crystal, still tucked safely away. For now, though, he focused on learning as much as he could from his mentor.
One cool morning, Garrick approached him as he was finishing the handle on a sword.
"Kalem," Garrick began, his voice gruff but not unkind, "I've seen you take to this work with a hunger I haven't seen in years. But remember, forging isn't just about heat and hammer. It's about heart, and sometimes, restraint. Understand?"
Kalem nodded, though the weight of Garrick's words lingered. "Yes, sir."
"Good," Garrick said, clapping a heavy hand on Kalem's shoulder. "Keep it up, and who knows—one day, you might even surpass me."
Kalem's eyes widened at the compliment, but before he could respond, Garrick turned back to the forge, already barking instructions to the other apprentices. Kalem's journey was only just beginning, but each day at Ironflame brought him closer to his goal.