The forge roared back to life. I worked the bellows, each pump pulling a deeper glow from the fire's core. Sparks danced up the chimney as the heat pulsed outward in slow, steady waves. I slid the ingot into the coals, not steel, but orichalcum. Rare, dangerous, and alive in its own way.

  Captain Dennes stood nearby, arms crossed, posted like a sentry beside the forge. She watched the flames with that sharp-eyed focus of a soldier expecting trouble at any moment. The light from the coals danced across her armor, catching along the edges of steel plates that didn’t quite fit right, too broad in the shoulders, too loose at the hips. It was issued, not tailored.

  Even so, she wore it well.

  There was something about the way she carried herself, calm, capable, unmoved, that made it hard not to admire her. Discipline was evident in every line of her body. Beneath that oversized armor, I could still see the outline of someone strong and graceful. Built to move, not to posture. Even when standing still, she looked like she could outrun most men.

  I tore my gaze back to the forge, focusing on the shifting hue of the heated metal. Focus, David.

  “That’s not steel, is it?” she asked, brow creased.

  “No,” I said, never looking up. “Orichalcum. I’m working on a personal project, Two Swords.”

  She blinked. “So now, you’re just casually forging with orichalcum?”

  I gave a slight shrug, adjusting the tongs as the glow got deeper. “Can’t let it sit around forever.”

  To anyone else, it might have sounded arrogant. To her, it was just unnerving. When the ingot reached its heat mark, hot enough to bite but not to crack, I pulled it from the coals. The air hissed around it. In one clean strike, I cut it in two. Sparks flew as the metal parted like butter. Dennes didn’t speak. I can see in her expression the shock of this metal splitting with such ease.

  I took both halves and started shaping them. The forge rhythm returned: strike, turn, cool, strike again. One piece I began turning into a blade modeled after Vaktar’s: lean, quick, practical. The other, I added a bit more flair, just enough to match the Guildmaster’s presence without being formal.

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. Dennes watched in silence, her arms crossed over her chest, as the awe on her face slowly replaced her guarded composure.

  Around us, the other blacksmiths stole glances as they worked. They saw it too, how orichalcum obeyed my hand the way steel obeyed theirs. Seraphina stepped beside Dennes and handed her a small porcelain cup. Steam curled from the top.

  “How can he do that?” Dennes whispered.

  Seraphina smiled, her voice gentle but filled with pride. “He’s just amazing. He’ll keep going until they’re finished.”

  “My lady Robertson, I noticed that you didn’t flinch when that knight attacked the Earl. Why?” Dennes asked.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Seraphina glanced over her shoulder, still nibbling the last piece of her cookie. “Oh, that? Well, I trust David. The world could be on fire, and I’d still feel safe by his side.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “Besides, that dessert was divine. Priorities.” With a playful twirl of her skirt, she disappeared back into the office, humming to herself.

  Hours blurred. By the time the blades had taken form, I moved them to the side bench. There, with delicate care, I began the finishing passes, filing, smoothing, and sharpening edges down to hair-thin perfection.

  I reached for the blade I’d started before the attack, mithril, and began the final touches. That one was for the prince. When it was done, I laid it beside the others, exhaled, and checked my status.

  [Class Progress: 95% Complete]

  No chime. No fanfare. Just a quiet notification. Subtle. Final. Like the last edge of something nearly whole.

  I lifted the finished mithril sword, turning it slowly in the light, checking every surface, every edge. No flaws. No hesitation in the steel. It was beautiful. I wrapped it carefully in cloth and handed it to Seraphina.

  “This one’s for the prince. Just need to finish the scabbard, then it’s ready.”

  She nodded and took it reverently, disappearing into the office to put it away. Then came the other two. They weren’t silver and gleaming like the prince’s blade; these were forged from orichalcum, deep orange with hints of flame frozen in the metal. Alive in a way steel never could be.

  I started the final passes, shaping the hilts, setting the grips, honing each edge until they whispered when they moved. I lifted the first of the two. The one for Vaktar. Sharp. Clean. Balanced like it belonged in the hand of someone who hunted in shadows and struck without warning. I offered it to Captain Dennes.

  “What do you think?”

  She hesitated, then took the weapon in both hands. She gave it a few light swings, testing its weight.

  Her eyes widened. “Very nice. Who’s this for?”

  “Vaktar. You met him at breakfast.”

  She nodded, then handed the blade back. I passed it on to Seraphina with a quiet, “This one’s his. I hope he likes it.”

  Dennes watched it go, her voice quieter now. “I know some would sell their soul for a blade like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

  She shook her head and finally smiled. Not a smirk, not polite restraint, but a genuine, full smile. “No. I suppose I’m getting armor instead.”

  I chuckled. “A good trade.” I turned back to the last blade. The second orichalcum sword, this one forged not in secrecy, but in gratitude. I finished the hilt, smoothed the tang, and began the final edgework. That’s when the Guildmaster stepped into the forge. He looked around, taking in the work and the heat and the hum of steel.

  “So,” he said, walking toward me, “I suppose it’d be foolish to try keeping you away from the forge.”

  “I had some things to finish. The prince’s commission was almost complete. I just needed to finish the scabbard.”

  He gave a quiet nod, then his eyes dropped to the sword on my bench.

  “How does this one feel in your hand?” I asked, passing it over. He took it reverently, the moment stretching between us.

  “This isn’t steel,” he said, “and it’s not mithril, either…”

  “No. It’s orichalcum.”

  He stared at it, awestruck. “Gods almighty, David, what did you create this time?”

  I smirked. “A simple thank-you.”

  “What?”

  “That’s for you.”

  His mouth opened, shut again. His grip tightened on the hilt.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  I watched him test the balance, and the reaction was instant. He swallowed hard and wiped at the corner of one eye.

  “So? Does the balance feel right?” I asked.

  He nodded, voice quiet. “Perfect.”

  And just like that, it was done. A soft flicker passed across my vision.

  [Class Progress: 100% Complete]

  [Congratulations. You have fulfilled the conditions for your Class.]

  [Awakening will begin in: 3…]

  I blinked. Confusion gripped me. Something was wrong. Dennes saw the shift in my expression.

  “David?” she said, alarm creeping in. “What is it?”

  [2…]

  She spun toward the office. “Seraphina!” Seraphina hurried out, panic rising. I was standing, but I wasn’t there. My eyes were wide and distant.

  [1…]

  The Guildmaster dropped the sword, lunging to catch me. Seraphina shouted my name. And then white. Everything turned white.