I stood in front of the forge, my attention focused on the piece of metal on the anvil as I raised my hammer for another strike. The steel was glowing red as I flattened it out as swiftly and carefully as I could before moving it to the side of the anvil and gently tapping a grove through the center so that I could fold it lengthwise.

I could hear Jaws and several of the other blacksmiths at work at their own station, the comforting heat and rhythmic clang of hammer on metal enveloping me as I finished flattening the piece of steel yet again, adding a seventh fold.

The typical way that I was taught to forge a sword was to heat the metal, beat out any imperfections while also making sure that enough of the coal dust from the fire entered the exterior of the steel, so that the metal on the outside of the blade would end up turning extra hard once it was quenched. Of course, the actual process was a bit more complex than that, but the overall goal was to have softer steel (what I think of as low carbon steel) on the interior of the blade to keep it flexible, and harder steel (probably high carbon steel) on the exterior so that blade would keep a sharper edge, and be more resistant to dulling or bending in a fight.

Of course, terms like high and low carbon steel were just my guesses; nobody here used terms like that. I had some basic understanding of science from my previous life, just barely enough to guess that the coal dust from the fire contained carbon in it… which I think is what made iron different from steel, though I wasn’t absolutely certain. All I knew for sure was that, on this world at least, Iron plus Coal plus Fire makes steel.

What I was trying, however, was to master a different way of making blades, which was based on my memory of how Japanese sword smiths apparently made Katanas to be both supremely flexible and supremely hard. The information I had was basically from movies and various tv shows I recalled watching, but the basic principle should be the same, right?

*SNAP*

“Bloody beast!” I cursed, as the blade I was working on snapped as I tried to fold it, becoming two twisted lengths of steel. I frowned, looking down at my work as Carver let out a loud laugh, waving her tail at me.

“Mountain of Scrap, that’s gonna be your new nickname if you keep this up!” She smiled at me, nodding to the pile of debris to my right. “You sure it’s even possible?”

I closed my eyes for a moment as I let the frustration pass through me, turning to give a sheepish smile to Carver as I removed my protective goggles. I had to raise my voice quite a lot to be heard over the din of the smithy, but that was something we were all long used to.

“To be honest, not really, no! And we can use it for pots and pans, can’t we? Please?”

Carver gave me a level look, a bit more serious this time. “Tell you what Heller, you get two more days of playing around, and at the end if you succeed, I’ll take half of that scrap off your hands and turn it into something useful.” She lifted her hammer and shook it in my direction, “But if you fail, not only do you have to re-work that heap of metal yourself, but you will owe me a dozen weights of ore.” She gave me a crooked smile, but I could tell she was serious.

I let out a restrained sigh but ended up nodding. Carver was the newest full-fledged Blacksmith in the smithy, meaning that she was in charge of basic supplies such as raw and processed ore, as well as keeping the apprentices busy making some of the simpler products that we were tasked with, such as cutlery and assorted cookware.

I normally had no issue keeping up with my quota, but I also loved experimenting with new techniques, many of which were based off of my vague memories from Earth. The latest was trying to make blades that would cut deeper, and last longer, than anything we had right now. I had a whole host of other things I wanted to try in the future, but one lesson that being an apprentice smith had hammered home was that it was always best to proceed one step at a time.

I went back to my notebook and marked off the current entry, which was one of many potential ideas I had for making the legendary ‘thousand-fold steel’ blades of my previous home planet. Next, I would try to keep the steel at a higher temperature throughout the process, but that was more difficult than it seemed, because if the steel was too hot it was all too easy to end up merging the layers together by accident.

For now, all I could do was try things out and make notes, and hopefully I would figure it out eventually.

___________________

The next day I was carting a load of ore to the smithy when I was approached by a figure that I didn’t recall seeing around North Stone Village before. His body language was hard to read, and the way he moved gave me a sense of… fluidity, with maybe a small hint of danger. Chances were he was a trained warrior, maybe even a cultivator, though he wasn’t wearing any identifying marks. His clothes were standard travelling fare, and the dust and grime of travel still clung tightly to his grey fur.

I made sure that my Ion Shield was up and running, and gave him a standard greeting when he got closer. There was nobody else nearby, so it was obvious he was approaching me, and the sound of my wooden wheelbarrow running on the cobblestone path was loud enough that it would make conversation awkward, so I stopped and set the cart down.

He greeted me in return and then simply walked by, but not before dropping a folded piece of parchment into my cart. What the… secret messages? My mind instantly went to a particular frosty noble who I had met in the past, and I let out a bemused chuckle as I scanned around me briefly before picking up the note.

“HF, the Apprentice,

Greetings, young one. We met in the past, under a starry sky surrounded by four walls, with a gentle touch of snow wafting around us.

It was then that we discussed the age of a dear friend we both share, and our combined worry for him. Soon a gathering shall be held in his honor, and I would invite you to join.

Before you decide if you would like to attend or not, I should like to stress that your presence is vitally important – without you, the gathering loses much of it’s meaning.

Should you decide to accept, meet me near the river that crosses near your village, where the old foundations of the ruined keep still stand.

Spirits save us all,

J.“

I blinked down at the letter in my hand, somewhat stunned by how dramatic and… clandestine the whole thing seemed. Then again, if I remembered the conversation I had with Jesvae (who I assumed was the J at the end of the note), we had spoken about the Merrik aging and the possibility of his death… which would cause the near complete collapse of our society, and the death of the majority of our population.

And that would be an event worthy of drama, to say the least…