Dahvid wiped the sweat from his forehead as he finished the last of his latest order. The local lord had a penchant for picking fights with his neighbors, and since Dahvid was among the best weaponsmiths in the province, he had placed a huge order for one hundred swords, and two hundred spear heads. It was a monumental amount of work to fill the order in the timeframe requested, but he managed, in no small part due to receiving half of the payment up front, which easily covered the costs of materials. He expected someone to come collect the order in a few hours, and he couldn’t wait to get the rest of his payment and finally have some free time to spend with his wife and son.

He sat in a chair at the back of the forge to nap for a bit while he waited, unwilling to leave until the forge cooled a bit more. He was jolted awake by a loud banging on the front door of his attached shopfront. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold yer horses!” He grumbled under his breath about idiot soldiers trying to smash down his door as he went to let them in.

“Do you have everything done?” One of them asked coldly, not bothering with anything even resembling courtesy.

Dahvid grunted and scowled at the two soldiers, “That depends, do you have the rest of the payment?”

The soldier that had spoken held up a pouch that jingled as he shook it, “I’m to give it to you only once the order’s completion is confirmed.” Dahvid shrugged and headed to the back to haul out the bundled spearheads and swords. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused at the silent guard’s blatant efforts to look intimidating. As if the scrawny greenhorn could actually scare him. Dahvid was a giant bear of a man, towering over most others around him at nearly six and a half feet tall, with the massive arms and shoulders built up over decades of forcing iron and steel to bend to his will. No, the guard that actually struck him as dangerous was the cold one. After he started to specialize in crafting weapons, he inevitably came into contact with those that used those weapons, and after near twenty years of meeting those that want to look dangerous and those that were dangerous, he had learned how to spot killers. The way he walked, the way he talked, everything about that otherwise unremarkable man screamed out that he had killed in cold blood before, and that he would do so again in a heartbeat.

He handed off the bundle to the quiet one, and smirked as the boy struggled with the weight as he turned to carry it through the front door. As it swung open to let him out, Dahvid saw an entire detachment of soldiers outside, a few of which jumped to assist with the load. The cold one tossed the pouch of coins to Dahvid and turned to leave without another word. Dahvid tugged open the pouch and swore loudly, it was mostly silver, with some copper mixed in, and clearly less than half of what he was expecting. He slammed the front door open and stormed out, but stopped short as half the detachment drew their blades.

“That wasn’t the agreed upon price!” He shouted angrily at them.

The cold one offered him a grin that sent chills down his spine and said, “You were paid what lord Erick was willing to pay you for your services. As a citizen of the kingdom living in his lands and by his grace, you should be grateful he offered to pay you at all, it speaks well of your skills. Indeed, once he has seen the quality of your work tested in battle, he may well have additional work for you.”

Dahvid’s scarred and bearded face wore a thunderous expression and he growled back at the man, “I’ll not be working for anyone that breaks their word, should the lord decide he desires more of my blades, he should know that until he has paid in full he’ll not get so much as a bloody letter opener from me!”

The cold man’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest and he bowed, “I shall be certain to inform the lord of your stance. I’m sure this can be sorted out easily, I doubt anyone wants such a beneficial arrangement to end with any unpleasantness.” The man’s gaze flickered to Dahvid’s house next door to the smithy and back to Dahvid, then he bowed again and mounted his horse, signaling the soldiers to move out.

Dahvid watched them leave, angry and worried. His temper had gotten the better of him, and while he had every intention of sticking to his word, there were far better ways he could have gone about bringing his complaint to lord Erick than shouting it at his soldiers. He wasn’t worried for his own safety, many sought him out with the desire to purchase his work, and he possessed skills the lord valued highly, in no small part due to his penchant for making war on his neighbors. He was worried that they might try to threaten his family in order to coerce him to work for them. Others had tried in the past, only to find out that his wife was exceptionally fierce and plenty skilled with a blade, and that he could swing one of his massive forge hammers harder and faster with one hand than they could have managed with both.

His son was a different matter though, the boy was turning six next month, and was increasingly excited about it. It was also troubling that the implied threat came from one of the lord’s men. Thugs, bandits, mercenaries, those were all things he and his wife could handle. There would be a scuffle, and guards would show up after a bit to help, then they would pursue the culprits and the matter would be done. He sighed, hopefully lord Erick wasn’t a complete fool and could see that he would be able to get far better work from him if he just paid his bloody bills.

He could only hope that the attempt at intimidation was just to see if he would back down, opening the door for more ‘discount’ orders in the future, and that soon a runner, or guard, or soldier would arrive with a bullshit apology and the rest of his money. He sighed, went back to the forge, and began to work the bellows to bring it back up to a working temperature. Thinking of his son’s upcoming birthday had reminded him that he had yet to make the boy a gift. Damien was still a mite too small to truly learn to use a hammer, so he began to work some steel into a dagger. If he wouldn’t be able to teach the boy to fight with a hammer yet, then his wife would teach him how to properly use a blade.

Dahvid’s worries faded as the rhythmic clanging echoed through the air, and a broad grin spread across his face as he worked on his son’s birthday present. Besides, the boy will learn to use a hammer in due time. His apprenticeship to the region’s finest weaponsmith begins next month after all!