Forge Kingdom

The sound of metal being hammered down spread across the four corners of the poorly lit room. Each strike resonated with the silhouette formed by the forge fire. Flames that are strong enough to burn those that have not been trained in the art of crafting weapons and armors.

Within this space, there is a single person. A broad-shouldered man who has his long white hair tied to a bun. His eyes fixed on nothing else but his craft and on the repetitive hammering of the metal that lay before him. Heated to a point that it would seem like it holds magic. Yet it doesn’t. Not yet.

The focus of the blacksmith that’s making the weapon seem to be scared. Something that nobody should ever invade until the hammering of steel is finished. Then, and only then, can a person speak. And that is precisely what happened as soon as the glowing metal is placed on water.

“My lord.” A female voice said coming from the entrance of the room.

“You have five minutes.” The blacksmith replied, not taking his eye
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