*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Iron Confederacy, Secluded Valley*
Demir woke early, his body aching from yesterday's failures. The sun hadn't fully crested the valley walls yet. Shadows still clung to the forge like stubborn ghosts. He splashed cold water on his face from the basin outside his shack, the chill shocking him fully awake.
The forge beckoned. Even from here, he could see smoke rising. Someone had already started the fire.
Brovick was already there, bringing some plates. The dwarf's beard was tied back with leather cord, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. He looked more energetic than Demir felt.
"Before starting with the Orichalcum, I think we should forge a shield and study rune etching a little more. What do ye say?" Brovick asked.
"Since when are you asking my opinions?" Demir raised an eyebrow.
"Ehh, shut up. Look, ye're not gonna use those swords with runes, right? Let me sell those at the city and buy vitality stones for the shield."
"We can do that?" Demir's eyes widened.
"Aye. I'll send 'em with the lad who brings food. Now load that forge and pick up those plates. Hope ye didn't forget how to hit for the defensive gears."
Demir loaded the forge with coal, watching the pieces catch and glow. He picked up his hammer. For the first time, he noticed how light it felt. His grip had changed. His muscles had adapted. He began to look at the anvil and hammer more closely, studying the wear patterns on both.
"What are ye doing, kid?" Brovick asked.
"These tools are so much better than what we have at the town. Does it impact the quality?"
Brovick smacked Demir's head lightly. "What do ye think, idiot? Now pick up the hammer."
"Just because Durnak's giving you a hard time, don't bully me," Demir grumbled, rubbing his head.
"It is a tradition. Masters bully apprentices." Brovick grinned.
Demir thought to himself, "I should make a better forging environment at the town."
The morning air grew thick with heat as Brovick began the lesson. Shield making was different from sword forging. The metal needed to curve, to distribute impact across its surface rather than concentrate force at an edge. Brovick demonstrated first, taking a flat plate and heating it until it glowed orange.
"Ye see, lad, a shield's not about sharpness. It's about coverage. About turnin' aside what comes at ye." He placed the glowing plate over a rounded stone form and began to hammer. Each strike was measured, controlled. The metal bent gradually, taking shape like a petal curling.
Demir watched intently. When Brovick handed him the next plate, Demir heated it and positioned it carefully. His first strikes were tentative.
"More confidence! Ye're not gonna break it by hittin' proper!" Brovick barked.
Demir increased his force. The metal responded, bending where he wanted. He felt for the charge building in his arms, that familiar sensation. When it came, he directed it through the hammer, shaping the curve with greater precision. The plate took form beautifully.
[Bzzzt!]
The sensation rippled through him. Another small confirmation from the hidden system.
"Aye, that's it! Ye're gettin' the feel for it," Brovick said, nodding approval.
By midday, Demir had created his first shield. The curve was good, the edges properly formed. It sat on the workbench, still warm, gleaming dully in the forge light.
"Now make four more. We'll practice rune etching after that," Brovick said.
Demir worked all day. The rhythm of heating, hammering, and quenching became meditative. Sweat soaked through his shirt. His shoulders burned. But each shield emerged better than the last. By evening, five shields lay in a row on the bench, cooling slowly. The metal clicked and pinged as it contracted.
Brovick brought a book with new rune etchings illustrated on yellowed pages. "Now this is the rune of vitality. Take the chisels and etch them here." He pointed to the center of each shield.
Demir was, for some reason, getting anxious. His hands felt shaky. He picked up the first shield and started the etching process. The chisel bit into the metal. Too deep. The line jagged. He tried to correct it, but the damage was done. The shield was ruined.
His stomach clenched.
"It happens. Do the next one," Brovick said calmly.
Demir tried the next one. His hand slipped. The chisel gouged a crooked line. Ruined. The third shield, he was too careful. The etching was too shallow. When he tried to deepen it, the metal cracked. Ruined.
By the fifth shield, his hands were trembling. Sweat dripped into his eyes. The second he tapped the hammer to chisel for etching, the chisel passed straight through the shield, piercing it completely on the first swing.
The clang echoed through the forge like a funeral bell.
"Ruined," Demir whispered.
Brovick sighed. "Today is not yer day, lad. Go sleep well. Try tomorrow."
Frustration burned in Demir's chest. Five shields. An entire day's work. All wasted. He couldn't speak. Couldn't look at Brovick. He just nodded and left.
He grabbed his food and the raw offering for Asena. When he reached the offering stone at the forest edge, Asena was already waiting, sitting tall and proud. The silver wolf's eyes gleamed in the fading light.
"Please don't mess with me today. I'm already..." Demir started.
But Asena spat out a wing. When Demir looked closely, it was a scaly wing. The scales were sharp as blades, glittering with an iridescent sheen. Asena's jaw was bleeding along with her paw. Red stained her silver fur.
Demir left the meat on the stone and went back to his shed. He grabbed some clean rags and returned to the giant beast.
"You have to be careful. You can't eat dragons. I'm assuming it's a part of dragon wing." Demir reached toward her paw to wrap the wound, but Asena howled and growled, backing her paw away. Her teeth bared.
"Woah, woah, I'm just helping." Demir spoke softly, moving very slowly this time. He reached down, gently removed the splinted scales embedded in her paw pad, and wrapped the wound with the rag. His movements were careful, deliberate. The wolf watched him with suspicious eyes but didn't pull away again.
"Sorry, but I can't reach your mouth or even try. You can lick there yourself," Demir said.
When Demir turned to leave, Asena gave a head toss to thank him. With her good paw, she pushed the dragon wing toward Demir.
"Okay, I'll take it."
Demir picked up the scales carefully, avoiding cutting his hands on the razor edges. The weight was surprising. Each scale felt denser than steel. He carried them back to his shack and set them on the small table by his cot.
Sleep didn't come easy. Nightmares plagued him. In his dreams, he was back at the forge, ruining shield after shield. The chisel in his hand had a will of its own, destroying everything he touched. He woke exhausted in the middle of the night, gasping.
"What am I doing? I'm not a magical blacksmith. I'm a stupid adrenaline junkie idiot kid. What am I doing here?" he said to himself.
Half-asleep, half-exhausted, he lay staring at the wooden ceiling. "I can't light up the forge at this hour and start hammering," Demir thought.
He tried to sleep but just rolled around the makeshift bed. When the first daylight entered through the cracks in the walls, he got up, grabbed the dragon scales, and went to the forge. He lit it up and loaded it with coal. The familiar roar of the flames was almost comforting.
Brovick came in, all jolly. "What is wrong with ye, kid? Ye seem half dead."
"Couldn't sleep last night," Demir admitted.
"Sleep is important, or else yer height wouldn't grow. Heh heh heh." Brovick started laughing at his own joke.
Then Brovick finally saw the scales on the workbench. His laughter stopped. "What is this? By the mountains... Is this wyvern scales? Where did ye get this?"
"Asena gave them to me. The giant wolf."
"We can strengthen the shield with this. This is excellent against magical attacks. Ye're so lucky, kid."
With that, Demir's enthusiasm returned. Energy flooded back into his limbs. He felt invigorated. He started forging a new shield, putting all his focus into each strike. The metal sang under his hammer. When it was done, perfectly curved and balanced, he tried to etch the vitality rune.
And botched the shield again.
The chisel slipped. The line was wrong. Another shield ruined.
"Another one," Brovick said simply.
Demir tried forging another shield. This time he failed to shape it correctly. The curve was uneven, the edges rough. Frustration mounted like a physical weight on his shoulders.
"Look, kid, I don't know what is wrong, but just try to empty yer head," Brovick said gently.
Demir took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and let the tension drain from his shoulders. He made a proper shield, focusing only on the metal, the heat, the rhythm. When it was done, he sighed into the air, trying to achieve hyper-concentration. He picked up the chisel.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rune of vitality took shape slowly. Each line flowed into the next. When he finished, the rune glowed faintly for just a heartbeat before settling.
"Finally. This we can shape into something worthy. Now remove those scales one by one. Don't cut yer hands," Brovick instructed.
Demir sighed with relief. But he was also very worried about tomorrow's orichalcum sword forging and rune etching. If he couldn't consistently etch simple vitality runes, how could he handle the legendary metal?
The afternoon sun slanted through the forge's open side. Dust motes danced in the light. Demir carefully peeled each dragon scale from the wing, arranging them on the bench. Their edges caught the light like jewels. Each one was a treasure. Each one was a gift from a spirit who had chosen to trust him.
He wouldn't waste them.