Rose's POV
I stroll in the daycare only to be attacked by miniature sized demons.
"Rose is back!!"
"Rosey!!"
"Yay yay!!! Rose is here!!"
The kids squeal in delight and excitement. I give a nice looking smile and look around the room. Many more faces pop out and smile widely. I am somewhat known around the village as an overall positive person. I have babysat a good number of the village children, having played will all of them a few times at some point. I have also provided many families with help when needed.
I help the care takers make lunch with some sugar cookies as a treat, knowing fully well that they will behave given the chance to try my baking. Aside from the Wilson's family bakery, I am known as one of the better chefs in the village, and anyone who even has a whiff of my food is drawn to it. But personally, I think people are overdramatic and my cooking is just alright. After lunch, I stay for about another hour and head my way back to the orphanage to prepare sandwiches for everyone incase they are hungry. After I finish, and even clean up some of the dishes Kyle had yet to do, I make my way to the village blacksmith.
The job goes hand in hand with his birth given last name, Smith. He and his brothers have been running the craftsmanship shops ever since their dad passed it down to them. Before them, the Smiths' dad's dad passed it down to him and so on. It is slightly confusing because they are triplets, not an often occurrence in the magii community. It is easier that they don't look exactly the same.
Walking into the shop, I immediately feel at ease with the sound of someone sharpening metal, the metallic smell so pungent you could taste it. I spent lots of time here as well during my free time, learning the art and craftsmanship of weaponry.
The Smith brothers let me use whatever materials I want to create a new weapon I have in mind, as long as I run it by one of them first. Always thinking outside the box, it makes my artistic thoughts flow and work in a trance. When I am done, sometimes others in the shop gawk at my handmade beauties, other times I am given price offers. Though, I have never ended up giving away or selling my personalized weapons. Yes I have helped make some weapons here and there, but I have never sold my personal designs to someone else.
"Hey look who it is." Landon says. He is the second oldest, while London is the youngest and Brandon is the oldest. Brandon is like the younger reincarnation of their father, meanwhile Landon and London are replicas of their mother, just more masculine. Like seriously, it is kind of creepy how closely alike they look to their parents. I can identify them quickly because Brandon is both right and left handed, Landon is always has some pep in his step, and London is the youngest and is smaller than his brothers by a smudge.
"Hey Landon, what are you up to?" I ask curiously.
"Oh nothing much, just sharpening and refining our babies." He replies whole heartedly.
"Yeah, we want them to look their very best for the ceremony tomorrow." Brandon says, entering the room.
"Also, not to brag, but we have some of the finest swords in all of America." London humbly says. It is true, no other blacksmith shops in a hundred-mile radius can even compare to the one we have in Trinity Stone.
My gaze sweeps over the shop and lands on an unknown substance in the back. I am so enthralled with curiosity I drown everything out, keeping my eyes on the material. When the brothers realize I am not listening, they all simultaneously follow my line of sight and see my gaze land on ... well ... whatever it is.
Brandon is the first to clear his throat, signaling he's about to speak. My gaze shifts from the unknown metal of some sort to the 5'9, twenty-four year old triplets.
"We came across this material when we went on our monthly mining exploration. It is extremely- " He gets cut off by London.
"Weird because when we tried to test it out, it didn't melt like a regular metal. Even if we added pressure, heat, nothing would make it shape into a materialistic weapon. Plus- " He gets cut off by Landon.
"We have no idea what it actually is, and if we could wield weapons out of it. Thus, we were planning to throw it out later when I was to go to the check in with Miss Androssi." The second oldest states.
Miss Androssi is very attractive, 22 years old, and the inn keepers daughter. I know Landon has been wanting to ask her out for a while, yet just does not know how. When I process his words and get over them creepily finishing each other's sentences, I quickly yell freeze.
"Wait!! Before you throw it out, may I see it for myself and try it out?" I ask hopefully. I see Landon shift his gaze to his brothers. London is the first to speak up.
"I mean, I don't see why not. We were about to throw it out anyway. Plus, you wouldn't really be using too many materials." He concludes. His brothers nod in agreement and I squeal with excitement.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you , thank you, thank you!!!" They just chuckle in amusement and return to what they were doing before, leaving me to conquer my curiosity.
I walk over to the back table and examine this 'metal'. It is a solid, but the boys said it was practically useless. It wouldn't melt, mend, or break, which in blacksmith terminology means useless. But, might I say it is a beautiful looking element. It is a dark obsidian color that reflects the light, it may seem heavy but is very lightweight, making a good example of what a sword should feel like. It also seems very sturdy. When I grab a dagger off the wall and scrape it against the element, it seems to almost glow. I get an adrenaline rush just being around this material when it made contact with another.
This is very peculiar, logically speaking. I can't do much with it, but I feel this weird pull towards that makes me crave to have it in my hold. I ponder over this material, first considering giving it a name, seeing as how nobody has managed to do so already. The other matter is how I can make a weapon, more specifically a sword out of it. I have a personal sword, but is outdated and I've been meaning to come in and make a new one. I never found the right time, I guess the time is now. I sigh in confusion.
Then it hits me. All of my classes and mentors have told me before but when somebody is most powerful, it is when you are in a calm state of mind, not blinded by rage or hatred like many others when they engage in a fight. I feel this presence coming from the 'metal' and now I know what I must do.
I gather all I would need, knowing the triplets won't really care. I get a torch, an engraver, a mold, and finally the material itself. I get set up in the back room where blacksmiths go to have a change in scenery, peace and quiet. I set everything I need on the floor and set the material in front of me. I go into a meditative state. Once knowing I am calm and one with my surroundings, almost as if it's second nature, I feel around for my energy and begin transferring it to the material. I guess all those lectures of energy reserves with Nicholas did me good.
It was definitely a weird feeling though, I felt like I was losing awareness of my surroundings without actually losing consciousness. I felt myself become one with the metal, my energy reserves flowing into the 'metal' like a never ending waterfall. Once I feel a slight change in the aura surrounding the element, I stop my energy from flowing into it once more and reluctantly peel my hands off of the material. I set down the substance and focus on my surroundings once again. This time, I picture the mildew on the grass in the training hill, the ants climbing their makeshift hill along the side crack of the inn.
My concentration returns just as I began to feel lightheaded. I embrace the harmony and peaceful mind setting of meditation before returning to reality. When I open my eyes, I am quick to see that there is no change whatsoever physically with the material. 'Time to see if this was all worth it.' I think to myself.
I begin the process just as I would if I were making any other sword, but I already know that this is not an average day 'metal'. I hold the substance in place while I light the torch and hope for the best.
One second passes. No change.
Two seconds pass. No change.
Three seconds pass. No change.
Four seconds pass. No change.
I begin to lose all hope, when the 'metal' starts changing. Not only changing, but melting. The material fills the mold perfectly, my handle as rough as a Diamond and as strong as Titanium.
'Now that the hard part is over, what shall I call it? ' I wonder to myself.
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