The Blacksmith. A Blacksmith can create an object from metal. A Blacksmith can create gates. A Blacksmith can produce a lighting fixture that could be used for your home. A Blacksmith can produce multiple personal appliances for your home. Different types of furniture. Agricultural tools that could be used for farming and other purposes. Decorative items to be placed around your house. Religious decorations and statues. The Blacksmith could even repair objects. Among many of these creations there are some that he is well known for. Weapons are some of the many objects that a Blacksmith can make. They're also some of the most notable of objects to be created by a Blacksmith. Swords, hammers, two-handed swords, and axes are very notable creations by a Blacksmith. However, behind the scenes is a process that's crucial to the creation of the objects.

Blacksmiths heat pieces of metal - such as iron - until the metal is soft enough to shape with tools. Sounds boring doesn't it? It can be just as boring for the Blacksmith at times. Nonetheless, what if I told you that there was an aspect of this profession that is truly exhilarating. It can come in many forms. With indistinguishable traits of all types. This is a very general aspect of many professions. Some professions enjoy it, some do not. Some appreciate it, some do not. This polarizing aspect is called the 'customer.'

The Blacksmith sharpened the sword with a sarcastic smirk on his grungy face. ''You defeated the beast with your bare hands?'' The Blacksmith asked, with a subtle undertone of disbelief. Whether the person being questioned didn't notice or chose to ignore is anyone's guess. ''Of course I did'' He answered as if the question was rhetorical. The Blacksmith took a sharp glance at his customer. He was a very young man. Most of his body was embroidered with leather armor. A tattered brown and black cloak hung from his shoulders and it stopped, just at his waist. The bottom of the cloak looked ripped and filthy. The cloak never wrapped around his whole body. It mostly covered his back and stopped at the back of his arms.

Many warriors have entered The Blacksmiths shop. This one in particular had a very arrogant disposition about himself. He heard a 'tapping' noise, probably coming from a foot. It quickened the beat of its repetitious noise in the span of a few minutes. ''Someone's impatient, eh?'' The Blacksmith said aloud to no one in particular. His Irish-like accent filled the air. His stubby arms still sharpening the sword. ''Are you done yet?'' The warrior asked with an irritable attitude.

''How's your mother doing?''

''... ''

'' ... She's alright.''

''Just alright?''

'' ... She's good.''

''That's better. How's your fath-''

''Mom doesn't care too much for my profession.''

''You should have just became a farmer. You know? Like your father and mother wanted.''

''Eh, too late now. At least I'm making a living.''

''Hardly, I know many warriors.''

''So? What's your point?''

''A warrior can't make much of a 'profit' from hunting simple animals.''

''That's why I'm going to hunt my first mythical beast.''

''... ''

''Which one?''

''A Centaur.''

The Blacksmith gave an exasperated and tired sigh. The room became still and tense with silence for a while. The sword was sharpened for about another hour before it was finished. He took the sword to the young man The sword was made with steel and embroidered with runes on the edge of it. ''Where did he get this sword? It doesn't feel like an ordinary blade.'' He wanted to ask, but he knew he would only dodge the question. ''Here you go.'' The Blacksmith gave the sword with a gruff voice. The young man took the sword with a cocky smirk and turned towards the door without another word. Before he could leave, the Blacksmith called out to him. ''Remember to take good care of yourself, Eric.'' Eric turned around and gave a smirk full of confidence. ''I'm always careful, old man.'' The jingle that came from him closing the door behind him left the Blacksmith with a sinking feeling. The Blacksmith obtained a reminiscent expression on his face, staring at the door. The Blacksmith gave a stern snort. ''That boy, is gonna get himself killed.'' He shook his head and began the trek back to his workshop.