By Art Intelli
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty yard outside the blacksmith’s forge. The clang of hammer on metal echoed, sharp and unforgiving. Inside the forge, the heat was almost unbearable, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning coal.
The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks and a face set in a permanent scowl, worked with practiced precision. His hands, rough and scarred from years of toil, moved with surprising dexterity as he heated the iron rivets to a glowing red. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his latest task.