Mannat eyes kept staring at the workbench as he reached the wall where his clothes still hung. He saw his tools and warmth filled his chest. His father’s tools were right beside his. His hammer was also there. It had hung all his life on the wall of his room, and now again it was made to hang uselessly. He felt sorry for it.

One by one, Mannat wore the leather shoes, pulled up the gloves, and belted the apron around his waist. He turned back just in time to see his father coming out of the storage room.

Raesh grinned as he walked toward Mannat. He held a knife-sized wooden case in his hand. His eyes grew wider when he saw Mannat ready in his work clothes. “You look good.” He said with a hint of a spark. Mannat replied honestly, “I feel good.”
“Here, this is for you.” Raesh pushed the case to Mannat, who looked at wondering if he had seen it before. He had not. 
“I came back that day your mother fell ill and found your first knife lying on the floor. I didn’t know what to do with it so I put it in the box.”
Mannat’s heart trembled. He opened the top lid and saw a black thin knife lying inside over a blue velvet cloth. His memory erupted as soon as he saw it. The eagerness, happiness, frustration, anger, and pain that he had felt that day cycled through him once again before pure and simple longing replaced them.

Exhaling loudly, he pulled the knife out and held it in his hand. He remembered its weight, just right so his mother's wrist wouldn’t hurt; it was medium-sized and had a relatively thicker spine as Mannat wanted her to use it for a long time. There were still forge sparks on its surface. His father had wiped the tempering oil but hadn’t touched the blade otherwise.

“I thought you would like to work on it. So I saved it.” Raesh said. He knew what that knife meant to the boy. Mannat didn’t want to be a master blacksmith, he only wanted to make a knife for his mother. Seeing how Mannat held the knife, Raesh was glad that he saved it.

The knife was neither sharp nor polished. It also needed a handle, though Raesh had straightened its spine. It would have become a useless piece of junk if the bend were still present while its internal structure hardened.

Mannat tightly gripped the knife from the tang and swung it around a few times in the air. This was his first work; it was supposed to start his blacksmithing career. He bit his lip, put the knife back in the box and closed the lid, then took a breath. His father was watching him. He looked happy. Of course, he was. His son had returned to the shop.

“Thank you,”
“That’s all right. So do you want to work on it now or do you want to help me get things straight?”

Mannat looked around. Everything told him his father was very busy in the shop and needed all the help he could get. He indeed wanted to complete the knife, but decide to let it wait for a bit longer. There was no hurry after all. “Tell me what to do.”
Raesh smiled. “Can you get the fire going while I grab the tools?”
Mannat was happy to oblige.

Soon, Mannat had a fire lit in the furnace. The coke was burning and igniting the coal. It would take some time for the furnace to reach optimum temperatures, and they were free until then.
“What’s the order?” Mannat started the conversation, both to pass time and know the details.
“Arrows,” Raesh said. “The minimum order is for one barrel full of arrowheads each month.”
Mannat looked at the three barrels by the storeroom. Raesh explained before he could ask. “They are to keep the just forged and polished works separate from the finished goods.”
Mannat nodded in understanding then suddenly asked. “Is there a war coming?”
“What makes you think that?”
“…Because jobs with minimum order are mostly set up to fill the armory.”  

Raesh watched the boy with a raised brow. He didn’t even know why he was surprised. Mannat had always been a fast learner, and the boy had asked him many related questions in the last year. It made sense for him to have developed some understandings of his own. However, he didn’t think there were many apprentices out in the wild with such a keen sense for business. 
“Did you learn it in the books?” He asked, knowing the answer would definitely be a straight no.
“No, it's common sense.” The boy said and asked, “Is the ore provided by the count?”

This one made Raesh wonder if the boy was a monster. “You can even figure this out?” Maybe he was still underestimating the boy.
“From where else would I get so much metal?” Raesh said solemnly. “As for your previous question, I don’t know if there will be a war in the future, but there is no reason to spread the word. If you understand what I mean.”
Mannat answered with silence. Raesh sighed and explained the job to him.
“We are only responsible for the arrowheads; the shaft is not our responsibility. However, that doesn't mean we can dally. We still have our work cut out for us. We have to make at least 50 arrows every day to finish the job on time.”

“Is that even possible?” Mannat was taken back at first but quickly corrected his approach. He asked, “What do I have to do?”

 “You want to forge or sharpen the arrows?” Raesh asked, beckoning a smirk from Mannat.

There was no choice. His father was not asking a question, but testing him. Mannat shook his head.  Finally, he felt like he was back in the smithy. His father wasn’t foolish enough to let a complete beginner forge weapons that could determine other people’s lives. Skillets and nails were one thing, but forging arrows, especially for the county, was a completely different matter.
“I'll go get the polishing stones,”
“Good,” Raesh said, not showing any reaction.
Mannat was going to the storeroom when he remembered something that had completely slipped his mind.
“Did you try inspecting the piece while working on it?” He asked, expecting a response.
However, Raesh looked confused, like it was the first time he had heard such a thing. Mannat was obviously not happy. “I told you a week ago when you came to the clearing… Don’t you remember?”
“I do now,” Raesh said. “It all works out in the end, doesn’t it? You are here now. So you can try to see if it works?”
Mannat’s ears twitched when he heard his father’s plan. Of course, the old man was trying to put the thing on him. For all his good, his father was after all comfortable with the way he had been doing things. Why try out something new if the old way works just fine? However, it was indeed Mannat’s idea. Now he could see for himself whether it was a hit or a miss. There was nothing to lose only a bit of hassle.

Mannat sighed and shook his head. Now he had another thing on his hands. “Then who will work the bellow?”
“I can do it myself.” Raesh shooed him away. “You go polish the arrows. I’ll call you when I have a job on the anvil.”
Mannat could only agree. “Okay,” he said and the two got busy.

Mannat took the polishing tools out of the storage area and sat near the barrels. The barrel on his furthest left had some polished goods inside. He took one arrow out to look at it.

An arrowhead's shape determined its range, attack, and penetration, but the shape itself was determined by its area of origin. The arrowheads forged in their region were thin, short triangles with fullers running down the center on both sides. Being lightweight and small they had low penetration power and range, making them were useless against armored units and heavy shields. One reason behind the creations of such an arrowhead was the low availability of natural iron in the region, and another was the price.

Manama picked up an arrowhead and inspected it.

[Iron arrow] [Common]
[Weight: 22 grams]
[Durability: 4/4] [Attack: 3/3] [Effect: +Bleeding]

It had low durability, but slightly higher attack power because of the groves on the surface. Its attack power increased as Mannat sharpened its tip to a point. It was a tiresome repetitive job and required some level of focus. Thankfully, 'focus' was one skill that Mannat didn’t lack. He had an abundance of it, which at many times put had him in a bind, like this time.

Mannat brought the arrowhead close to his ear and rubbed a thumb over its edge. A smile grew on his face when he heard the distinct sound of a sharpened edge scraping a layer of skin from his thumb. This was what he was looking for. Mannat pulled the arrowhead away from his ear and threw it into the barrel of finished goods. It made a thud inside the almost empty barrel as he pulled another polished arrowhead from the adjacent barrel. It new arrowhead looked the same as the previous one but was definitely heavier. He inspected it and the skill informed him the same. He wondered if there was a way to make two similar products.
He was going to start working on the arrow when he heard the sound of metal clanking.

He peered toward the furnace and found his father already working on the job. Why didn’t he call him? He was supposed to inspect the pieces. What happened?

He heaved up on his feet and went to his father. He didn’t know how many arrowheads he had sharpened, but his father had already filled half a crate of forged arrows on his side.  

He exclaimed, “How long was I out for?”
“Maybe a couple of hours,” Raesh said. “Why, you have to be somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Mannat said solemnly. A couple of hours… how did that happen? Sighing he added, “I have to return to the clearing at noon. ‘Inspect’ is not the only skill I need to work upon. Why didn’t you call me?” He complained. In his heart, he knew it was not his father’s fault.
Raesh told him the same thing. “I called you plenty of times, but you were too busy sharpening the arrowheads. I was going to shake you, but you looked too happy. You were really enjoying your work.”
Mannat let out a groan.
“Don’t worry,” Raesh said. “You still have plenty of time to figure out your thoughts.”

He was keeping an eye on the lump of metal inside the furnace. It was glowing white-hot and was ready to be worked. “You want to do this?” he asked Mannat, who looked between the furnace and him and slowly nodded.
“Come then. Show me your magic,”