Mannat’s eyes sat upon the boisterously large anvil. It was the first thing he saw upon stepping inside his father’s workshop. A thick ray of dirt populated light from the ceiling engulfed the anvil in luster, making it the center of the workshop. He found it hard to look away from, considering the rest of the shop was covered in an unappealing layer of darkness.

He had to strain his eyes to find the forge, which was sitting right behind the anvil by the northern wall.

Mannat knew what a forge was, but didn’t think it would look like a small hay coop —only that it was covered in white bricks inside out. Its chimney was thick enough for him to crawl inside! Hopefully, the day would never come when he’d actually have to do that. Mannat could only imagine the amount of smoke it dissipated into the air every day; no wonder the workshop was the farthest one on the street.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed the tools hanging from the wall. If he thought the hammer in his hand was large and heavy, then the ones standing upright on the floor looked frightening in comparison. He didn’t have the slightest urge to try lifting one but found his grip tightening around the wrapped handle of his hammer.

He was excited; and why wouldn’t he be? The boy had worked too hard to get his father’s approval to step inside the workshop. He had lost count of the number of times he had swung his hammer at logs and dirt mounds. It was a tiring and painful exercise, but one that had taught him the intricacies of wielding the hammer. The difficulty lied in the tempo: he had to relearn breathing and practice until the rhythm was ingrained into his bones.

The hammer wasn’t the only tool there was, however, it was by far the most exciting.

Mannat was busy fawning over the small, dark workshop when his father also came inside and called him.

“What do you think?” Raesh asked stopping beside him. “It’s small and dark, I know—” Raesh started, but Mannat interrupted him.

“It’s perfect.” He beamed a smile so vibrant it caused Raesh to let out a booming laugh, which scared the pigeon sitting at the open skylight.

“All right, come. Let’s get to work.” Raesh stepped forward, before noticing the thing he was holding and smacked his forehead. “I almost forgot. Here,” He threw the packet at Mannat, who fumbled the catch at first, but got it in the end.

“Your constitution is a bit lacking, so I thought you might need these,” Raesh said and found Mannat staring at him with sparkling eyes as if asking for his permission. A smile grew on his face, and he told the boy to open the packet.

Mannat was happy to oblige. He easily got through the string knot and opened the brown packet. It contained a pair of hard black gloves and faded brown leather overalls. They were old and weathered, and two-three sizes larger than him. Still, they were a gift from his father and the proof of his accomplishment.

Mannat placed the hammer on the floor and wore the gloves, the shoes, and the apron, one by one. The leather overalls were loose and dragging, while the gloves… Mannat tried holding the hammer wearing them but found it hard to keep his grip. He did swing the tool at his father’s behest, but the hammer almost slipped out of his hands and flew away, panicking them both. He held onto the hammer, somehow. And they both sighed in relief.

“Are they yours, father?” Mannat asked, removing the gloves.

“It was that obvious, huh.” Raesh scratched his bearded chin in dismay. The boy looked too foolish in his old apron.

Mannat shook his head. “You didn’t think it through, did you?”

“I suppose I should take them back,” Raesh said, but Mannat pulled back when he tried to.

Raesh tried again but Mannat refused. “No. Let me have them,” he said, causing a smile to bloom on Raesh’s face, which turned into another booming laugh. The pigeon at the skylight was scared to death that day.

“Alright,” Raesh chimed, proud, and happy. “Keep the overalls, but give me the gloves. They are useless to you.” The boy listened. Raesh rubbed his chin, thinking. The overall —though fitting— was too large on the boy and dragged against the floor. That was an incident waiting to happen. Raesh decided he needed to do something about it. In the end, he cut the excess so it was knee length and no longer hindered Mannat’s movement.

Raesh nodded. “How do you feel?”

Mannat stretched his legs, crouched and bent forward, picked his hammer, and took a walk before stopping near the anvil. “I feel clamped.” He said.

Raesh snorted. “That’s good. It’s supposed to feel that way. Alright,” He clapped to get Mannat’s attention. “Ready to work, yet?”

Mannat’s eyes opened wide with joy, and he chirped out, “Yes, father.”

The year passed by quickly for Mannat as a helper. Not yet an apprentice, his father didn’t allow him to work on the metal. You are too cold, Raesh told him when he first prodded. Mannat didn’t understand the term at the time but gradually learned it was an idiom that used the temperature of the metal to explain his experience.

Raesh could eyeball the temperatures from the degree of the metal’s glow, but Mannat had to learn it slowly. He started by manually checking the temperature with an apparatus, and only in the recent weeks did he start eyeballing it without the need for his father’s advice. That was one hell of a learning speed. Raesh was dumbfounded when he first saw him doing it because it had taken him longer, much longer to learn the same.

Another day of hard work came to an end in the workshop.

In a practiced manner, Mannat filed the tempered knife to check its hardness while Raesh whipped his face clean with a dirty rag of a towel.

“How is it?” Raesh asked over the clean sound of metal sliding over metal. “Did it develop any cracks?”

“No, father, it’s perfect.”

“Of course it is. All right, you drop it in the pile and clean up. I’ll take care of the forge.”

For a second Mannat looked like he had something to say, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“What? Do you want to put the fire out?”

Mannat looked past him at the forge, which was still spitting fire out like a beast, and his face twitched. “Yes,” he said but with some hesitation.

Raesh didn’t think much of it. The boy wanted to do the dirty work, what more could he ask for? Still, he decided not to bother him with the cumbersome task that day. It was a Saturday; there were other more important things to do. He could practice on other days.

Telling Mannat to clean the workshop, Raesh went to smother the fire burning in the forge. It was a time-consuming task and needed much attention. The coals had to be completely put out, or there was always a risk of delayed fire.

Meanwhile, Mannat swept the floor for metal shavings and forge sparks. He also cleaned the tools and put them back in their place. Dealing with the trash, he went into the storage room and rolled out two disfigured lumps of beaten metal to the center of the workshop.

They were too heavy for him to lift, and found dragging them an even harder task. Rolling was fine. He set them facing each other under the skylight and took a seat upon one. They were the equivalent of two chairs since there were none in the shop. His father believed there was no place for a chair in the workshop. They were there to work, not to rest.

Yet, there they were, using metallic lumps for chairs. His father was silly like that sometimes.

“All set?” Raesh asked looking back.

“Yes, father,” Mannat answered, and Raesh hung the rake from the hanger by the forge. The forge behind him had already grown quieter. Sure, the coals inside were still smoking, but he had spread them out evenly and separated the fuel from the fire. Now it was only a matter of time before they went out completely. Mannat would clean the ash in the morning, but for now, this would do.

Raesh removed his leather overalls and took a seat on the free metallic block after setting them on the anvil. He sat with his legs wide open and chest bare since it was the only way for him to sit comfortably.

Mannat sat upright, feet together and hands on the knees, ready to answer anything his father threw at him. There was not a hint of nervousness about him. He knew all the answers.

“Are you ready?” Raesh asked and Mannat passed him a confident smile.

“All right,” Raesh said somehow controlling his twitching eyebrow. Lately, he had been trying to force Mannat into a corner, so that he could take blacksmithing seriously —not that he wasn’t; it was basically tradition— but the boy was too smart. He had learned everything perfectly and was even beginning to have his own understanding of things. That was not supposed to happen until he had a few years of metal shaping under his belt! As a result, the boy had grown smug, and Raesh had grown helpless.

“Let’s start with the temperature. What’s the ideal temperature of any given metal?”

“Ideal temperature of a metal is the temperature where it becomes malleable enough to be molded into the desired shape. Any hotter and you risk burning the metal; if colder, the metal possesses a high risk of developing cracks or warps during the tempering process.”

“And?” Raesh prodded.

Mannat answered leisurely. “The temperature of the metal is as important as is its quality and the forge welds between the layers, but the most important of all is to check for impurities that the hot metal will form by coming in contact with air and other materials.”

“In conclusion,”

“One can’t be cautious enough, because every single mistake that a smith makes on a tool is aggravated in the hands of the wielder.”

“Alright, that’s good. You have come a long way haven’t you, son?”

The seriously innocent nod that Mannat gave would have made his mother blow him kisses, but it only caused his father to nod back. Raesh had grown accustomed to Mannat’s boyish quirks. The boy looked just as slender as the day he had acquired Vigor.

That had been a feat worth celebrating. Vigor, the skill Mannat had earned after a year of hard work, could only raise his strength attribute to a total of eight points —He needed ten. Athleticism would have been perfect for Mannat since six out of its total ten points were allotted to strength.

Raesh sat still on the cold and jagged lump of metal. Once again he could not let his thoughts out. He had tried telling Mannat once, brought the blocks from storage, and sat down with him to have a face-to-face conversation. Yet, the boy’s vibrant green and excited eyes had melted him into a soft lump of metal that couldn’t hold the weight of coming clean. The result of his silence was Mannat’s unceasing questions about blacksmithing.

Maybe, at the time, the boy was simply breaking the silence or quenching his curiosity, but the thing had been going on ever since. Every week they sit down facing each other. Raesh put forth questions and Mannat answers them with honesty, and to the best of his ability. Raesh knew he was not fooling Mannat any more than he was fooling himself. The boy was smart, too smart, actually. Perhaps, he had known about his limits all along. Mannat had been able to check his attributes ever since his Intelligence had reached ten points, and he acquired the skill: Inspect.

Raesh sighed. He knew the boy wasn’t going to give up. And he couldn’t tell him. Maybe it was time he believed in the boy, and hoped for the best?

Raising his head, Raesh looked at Mannat, actually looked into his eyes. The boy’s eyes were clear and vibrant; there was not a hint of hesitation in them.

Mannat was still wearing his protective overalls, and he looked absolutely adorable in them. He had taken quite a liking to them, actually.

A smile grew on Raesh’s face remembering the time Mannat had refused to remove the leather gear, especially his new red gloves —dyed to match the color of his hair— and worn them to home.

Another sigh and Raesh noticed that Mannat was still going strong. He raised both his hands and told him to stop. “That’s enough for today,”

“Are you sure?” Mannat said, puckering his lips. He looked ready to go on for another hour or two.

“Yes, I’m sure, Mr. I know everything. Go and hang your gear. I want to close the shop a bit early today.”

Mannat squinted as if trying to see what he was up to. “You are not going to the tavern later, are you, father?” He asked.

“Not today. No.”

“That’s good,” The boy relaxed both his stature and expressions and followed with, “I will find out if you are lying. So don’t even think about it. As an adult, you should be responsible for your health. I just don’t understand how you can drink something that smells so awful. If it was me, I would never—”

“Mannat?”

“Yes, father?” Mannat asked with a straight face.

“Shut up. And do what I told you.”

The boy stuck his tongue out and sprung to his feet. He thanked Raesh for having him in the shop and then dashed to the southern wall. Removing his gear he hung them at the hanger with the rest of their clothes. He passed a look at the tools shelved there. They were the tools he had earned from his father in the past two years. There were tongs of different sizes to hold the hot metal piece on the anvil, one medium-sized hole-punch to work on the tang, an iron brush to remove scale from the job, chisel and a small hammer to break forge welds if any had popped, and recently he had finally earned his own file to check the hardness of the tempered job.

Other than these jobs, he could also make ingots from ore, draw nails and make crossbow springs, various small brackets, and mechanisms that didn’t take much hammering, but the more time-consuming artifacts like blades, arrowheads, and farming tools his father did himself. Now he only needed to acquire an anvil and practice his hammering. Then he would create a tool with 25 or more durability and officially become an apprentice blacksmith. He was excited. He had already learned everything he could as a helper. Now the rest depended on his father. He would get his own anvil when his father considered him ready. They both knew he was ready; it was but a matter of time.

Mannat turned to see his father taking the blocks back to the storage area. He obviously carried them there.

“Father, are you coming?”

“You go ahead,” Raesh said from the storage area. “I won’t drink; I promise.” He added, peeking from the door. Only then did Mannat leave, but not without shaking his head. He was taking more and more after his father.

The sky was still blue when he stepped out on the dirt road. How many times had he seen blue sky in the past month? He could count the days on his fingers.

He was dusting his shirt when he saw Pandit coming up the road. The tall boy had a huge grin plastered on his face, and he sped up upon seeing Mannat. Pandit even waved at him, as if asking him to stay right there… like hell he was staying. Mannat turned around and started walking. He didn’t make it far though before the boy caught up to him.

“There you are,” Pandit said in an unusually excited tone of voice and slung an arm around his neck.

They walked like that for a few steps before Mannat grew irritated. The boy definitely wanted something from him; there was no other explanation for his antics.

“What?” Mannat asked, strongly suggesting the boy be quick with his words. He was losing patience by the seconds. Of course, Pandit understood him just as clearly, if not better.

“Don’t you think it’s a good day to visit the lake? You can even take a dip in the cold refreshing water. You definitely need it.” Pandit said, grin growing wider.

Mannat stopped walking, raised his head, and looked at Pandit. The boy had taken an amazing head large lead-in height. It was destined to be, but Mannat still didn’t like the difference. He was unnaturally stubborn in this regard.

“Why?” Mannat asked and the boy was happy to oblige.

“No reason. I just feel the lake calling me.”

“Is that so?”

Pandit ignored him as if he didn’t hear, and continued pitching his idea. “When was the last time we went there, anyway? I certainly don’t remember. Come, it will be fun. The beautiful scenery will take your edge off. The cold water will improve your mood. And the girl—”

“What girl are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Mannu dear! Don’t be so brittle; be malleable.” Pandit snickered. If he was hoping to get a reaction, then he was to be left disappointed, because there was to be none. His friend’s stoic face was all that Pandit got out of him.

“Did you not understand?” Pandit said, and mumbled, “But it was your joke. How could you not remember?”

“It is Sharmilla isn’t it?” Mannat asked, and Pandit certainly was petrified for a second. He hid it brilliantly, but Mannat noticed it anyway.

Pandit saw Mannat’s smug smile and clicked his tongue. “You are no fun, you know?”

“I know that you are the only one in the world who would happily push his best friend into the quagmire just to see him struggle.”

“You are wrong.” Pandit shook his head in dismay, before snickering and saying, “I’m not the only one. Every best friend is the same. Now, let’s go…” He insisted and pulled Mannat’s arm. Mannat tried to resist, but the boy was stronger than him. Pandit had long attained ten points in strength. And as an active Hunter —a job with no apprenticeship— he was well ahead of his friend in terms of dexterity and stability. Unsurprisingly, Mannat lost all hope when Pandit decided he was going to drag his friend to the lake if he had to.

Raesh came out of the workshop behind them just as they passed by the shop.

“Where are you two going?” He called, bewildered at the sight.

“We are going to the lake, sir,” Pandit answered and that was the end of that conversation. Mannat half expected his father to do something. Well, he did nod and told them to return before night, and to stay away from the woods… That must count for something, right? For all his good, Raesh was really clueless sometimes.

Disappointed on that front, Mannat turned back toward Pandit. “Can we at least discuss this?”

“Look, man. A girl is waiting for you at the lake, and she has something to tell you. And you, as a man, bear the responsibility to hear her.”

“You know she’ll hate me. Don’t you?”

“Well, she might not be the brightest flame in the village, but she does have many suitors. If she can get over you, maybe those others will have a chance. What do you think?”

“I think you should talk to her instead of me.”

Pandit stopped pulling Mannat and looked at him. “Will you do this or not?” Mannat stared back but saw no other choice than to follow his friend. He sighed.

“You are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t be a baby.” Pandit suddenly remembered something and smacked his head. “Shit. I forgot. You were born an adult.”

“Start walking.”

At the lake, the water was calm and the woods were bright. Birds were calling the end of the night. Many species had made a home in and around the lake, bursting the site with life. The mix of red, yellow, and green only added to the view.

There stood a brown-haired girl at the bank, wearing a plain white dress. She had her hands at her back and was holding a white lily with a long green stem. Her hair flowed freely down her back, talking and playing with the evening wind. They covered her naked shoulder when she turned and looked at the two boys creating a racket while going down the slope.

Though a year older than the two, she looked the youngest of the three. Her eyes were determined, and her freckled cheeks were flushed. Her breaths were high. She kept an unwavering gaze at the two but also remained uncharacteristically silent as the boys approached her.

“I brought him,” Pandit yelled from a distance. Sharmilla’s eyes were fixed upon Mannat. She expected him to be nervous, but he rather looked tired instead. Pandit felt disappointed at being ignored. Still, he ushered his friend to the girl’s side before stepping back. He found a seat upon the trusty old log that someone had dragged down the slope some time ago.

Truth to be told, Mannat didn’t feel a hint of excitement. He had never been in such a situation before. All his wisdom was for naught, as he couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with his anxiousness.

Mannat opened his mouth to speak, but Sharmilla took the lead.

“Do you know why I called you here?” She said, staring right into his eyes. She was not afraid.

Mannat thought about how to answer and decided on the worst options of all: he chose to be logical. “I think, yes.”

“Then…” Sharmilla paused and looked at the white lily in her hand. The flower was pure and speckles; there was not a single grain of dust on its petals. The flower signified her purity, which she was handing to Mannat. Of course, it was her older sister, Chahhat’s idea, but she had indeed taken a liking to the thought of giving a white lily to the boy she liked.

“Here,” She said raising the flower. And while Mannat hesitated at first, he did take the flower and thanked her; only that he ended up making one small blunder.

“Why me?” Mannat said and realized his mistake right away. Sharmilla was petrified. He suddenly remembered what Pandit had said on the way and decided to include him in the discussion. “I mean, why not him?” He hurriedly added, pointing at the boy sitting at a distance behind him.

Did it work? Well, Sharmilla squinted. She took her time to get her thoughts straight, but whatever the case she didn’t slap him. So that was good.

In the end, Sharmilla released a lonely sigh. She didn’t get angry, but told him, “There is no one else like you. Because you are the most hardworking and driven person I have ever met. You scare me sometimes too when you act like an adult, but that’s also what I like about you. And I know if I’m with you I’ll never go hungry. Also,” she looked behind him. “He’s too stupid.”

“HEY!” Pandit shouted, but they both ignored him.

Mannat nodded. “I agree with you. But what if I don’t become a blacksmith?”

The question shocked Sharmilla. “Why won’t you become a blacksmith?” She sounded fearful.

“Because being a blacksmith’s son isn’t enough in my case. There is a chance that I might not get the job.”

Sharmilla held the hand that was holding the flower and looked straight into Mannat’s eyes. “You have to become a blacksmith.” She grew desperate. “Your father promised he’ll turn you into a proper blacksmith. That’s why my father agreed to our marriage,” A blush turned her face red, but she maintained eye contact and saw the confusion in Mannat’s eyes. “You don’t know?” She stood still like a cat.

Mannat opened his mouth to say something, but she pushed him aside and ran toward the village without looking back, leaving him gawking.

Pandit approached While Mannat watched her receding figure disappear behind the trees.

“You can be really hopeless sometimes you know? I hope you know what you are doing.” Pandit said.

“Honestly, I have no idea what just happened.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Pandit said and Mannat shrugged his shoulders. “What now? He asked, but his friend answered with silence.