NOVEL NEXT Chapter 83: Learn from the expert
Grey stood in the clean, timber-paneled reception area of the smithy in the city, the heavy street noise muffled by the thick walls.
The assistant, a young, lean man, greeted Grey with a gleeful, eager smile.
"Welcome, sir! How may I help you today?"
Grey spoke politely, choosing his words carefully. "Professor Thorgar had recommended this smithy to me and had mentioned he spoke with the owner already about teaching me a few basics."
The assistant's smile widened. "Ah! You must be the young man! Master Grazon informed me of your arrival and instructed me to take you to him directly when you appeared."
Grey nodded, relieved the groundwork had been laid. "Thank you." He followed the assistant through a small, dimly lit hallway that quickly led to the true heart of the establishment.
As they entered the main forge at the back, the senses were immediately assaulted.
The air was thick with the powerful smell of sweat, coal smoke, and hot metal. The rhythmic, thunderous sound of a hammer striking an anvil was resonating through the room, establishing a primal rhythm as multiple blacksmiths worked diligently at their individual stations, sparks flying like golden confetti.
The assistant deftly navigated the chaos of bellows and glowing metal, bringing Grey further inside toward a separate, wider room marked by its focused heat and intensity.
There was a single person inside: Grazon.
The master blacksmith looked to be in his fifties, with a few strands of hair gone grey mixing into his substantial beard.
He possessed a tanned, bulky body with visibly toned back muscles and arms, testament to decades of swinging a heavy hammer—a clear sign of his expertise and veteran status in the craft.
"Master Grazon," the assistant called out.
Immediately, the resounding clang of the hammer striking the anvil ceased.
Grazon slowly turned back. His skin was red and glistening from the intense heat of the furnace, and his body was slick with sweat. He still gripped the hammer tight in his calloused palm.
"Are you the boy Thorgar sent here?" Grazon asked, his voice rough but direct.
"Yes, Master Grazon," Grey replied, executing a polite, slight bow. "He sang praises for your work and introduced you as the best blacksmith to learn from in the city."
Grazon let out a loud, booming laugh, throwing his head back. "That cheapstake praising me? Hahaha... that's the most funny thing I've heard in years!"
Grey was slightly surprised to hear such open cursing of a Professor, but he quickly surmised that Grazon and Thorgar were clearly on very friendly terms, perhaps old comrades.
"So, you want to learn blacksmithing?" Grazon asked, the smile still creasing his sweat-streaked face.
"Yes, sir. But just the basics... enough to somehow make a passable sword," Grey admitted.
The smile instantly faded. Grazon's brow furrowed, and his tone became noticeably offended. "Are you not serious about this, then?"
Grey could feel the dissatisfaction and professional pride in Grazon's voice. He knew he couldn't lie and pretend to commit to months of training.
A deep sigh escaped him, and he decided honesty was his only play.
"I won't lie, sir," Grey began, straightening his spine. "But this is for the Academy Festival Competition to be held in four days. I am participating in a weapon-making competition because of unfortunate circumstances, and I have absolutely no prior knowledge about it."
He bent his waist low, executing a deep, earnest bow. "I was hoping that you could teach me just enough basics to not smear the reputation of my class and friends in the ground. I sincerely ask you to spare some time from your busy schedule and do me this favor, sir. I'll pay you in any way I can."
Grazon gazed down at the bowing Grey, his eyebrows raised. He remained silent, contemplating deeply, the sound of the furnace roaring gently behind him.
After a long moment, the corner of his lips curved up into a wide smile, and he laughed out loud again, the sound booming in the wide room.
"I'll overlook this disgrace, child, just because of your honesty," Grazon announced, chuckling.
"Tell Thorgar that he owes me a favor, and I'll come soon to collect this debt from him."
Grey straightened up, ecstatic. "Thank you, sir! Thank you!" he repeated loudly, genuine relief flooding him.
Grazon picked up a leather apron and tossed it to Grey.
"We have three days, then. Let's get started. I'll make sure you win this competition. Can't let you tarnish my name, right?" he finished with a wide, challenging smirk.
******
Harlon, Princess Erowen, Alvaro and Grand Elder Aerion walked out of the Headmaster's office, the heavy door clicking shut behind them.
Their shoulders were slumped, and disappointment was clearly written on all three of their faces.
"What now?" Erowen asked, her voice tight with frustration.
Harlon scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "He's not convinced. He listened politely, but the moment I asked for the student, he became a wall. I didn't want to reveal the confidential information—the true nature of the prophecy and the growing Dark Elf threat—but it seems he won't budge without knowing everything."
Aerion shook his head, his expression grim. "I know Hamdal. Even if you tell him everything, he won't accept it. His first duty is to the safety of his students and the autonomy of the Academy. He won't hand over a child based on a 'critical mission' from the palace unless he believes the Academy is the greater threat."
"How can we convince him then?" Erowen asked, looking helpless.
Aerion sighed, a deep sound of despair. "I don't know, Princess. His protection protocols are legendary." Despaired and helpless expressions took over their features.
Aerion paused, an idea slowly dawning in his eyes, though it was born more of necessity than strategy.
"The Academy Festival is being held this week after a long hiatus. It's a huge event. There will be performances, magic exhibitions, and the grounds will be filled with students."
He offered a slight, encouraging smile to Erowen. "Why don't you enjoy the festival, Princess, Sir Harlon? In the meantime, I'll return to my contacts here. I need to try to come up with something, a lever, a point of compromise. Just give me some time."
Harlon and Erowen exchanged a look. There was no point in arguing or pressing the issue further tonight.
Harlon gave a curt nod. "Alright then, Grand Elder. We shall follow your advice."
"Excellent," Aerion said, his smile becoming genuine.
"Let me escort you to your lodgings then. They're comfortable, if a bit sparse. Please follow me."
Aerion turned and moved forward, navigating the busy corridors of the Academy, with Harlon, Alvaro and Erowen following behind him, momentarily putting the weight of their failed mission aside.