The heat radiating from the forge slammed into Edward Vistro as he walked into the workshop. The sound of a hammer hitting metal was constant and sharp, drowning out all the noise from the busy market outside.
The blacksmith working at the anvil was a big guy with wide shoulders. His skin was like leather from being close to the fire for so long. He wiped his forehead with a dirty rag and looked up when Edward came closer. Seeing the fancy clothes and delicate face of the boy, the blacksmith went from tired-looking to friendly. He put down his hammer and bowed politely.
"Young Master," the blacksmith said, his voice low and rumbly. "Looks like you stayed behind while everyone else left. You looking to buy something? Maybe a little gift for a lady? A silver pin?"
Edward shook his head, "No. I want you to make a sword for me."
The blacksmith stopped what he was doing. He looked Edward up and down, noticing how small he was and his expression shifted from professional courtesy to a mixture of skepticism and concern
"A sword, Young Master?" the blacksmith asked, carefully. "You're a Vistro. Your family's weapon collection is famous all over the Kingdom. I've heard stories of the enchanted swords in your father's storage– swords that can cast really powerful magic and cut through mountains. Why would a young noble, especially one from a family known for its magic swordmanship, come to a simple blacksmith like me for a sword?"
The blacksmith was being careful. He knew rich young men liked to buy fancy things to show off, but there was something about Edward's serious attitude that told him this wasn't just for show.
"The swords in my house are old and special," Edward said, his voice even. "They're for people who use magic to make up for not being skilled enough. I want a sword that matches my fighting style. None of the swords my father has feel right."
The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. "Your style? And what kind of style is that, Young Lord?"
"I want a sword with one sharp edge," Edward explained, moving his hands like he was holding a sword. "About thirty-two inches long. The weight should be mostly at the end, but the handle needs to be balanced so I can hold it backwards without hurting my wrist. I want the metal folded over on itself one hundred times. To make it really strong."
As Edward went on to describe the handle, the blade and how it should curve, the blacksmith went from doubtful to completely shocked. This wasn't some kid talking nonsense. These were the exact details someone who really knew swords would ask for. The boy wasn't asking for a toy; he was asking for a weapon made for proper swordmanship.
'It seems the boy wants to enroll in the academy in Vaeloria. He looks to be of age, and the way he talks, he must be what they call a genius. Yes, that's it. He's a genius with the sword, and he's already eager to dominate the academy,' the blacksmith thought.
"You talk like you've been fighting with swords since you were a baby," the blacksmith said quietly, rubbing his chin. "Alright. I can make it. But something like that… the work involved, the materials… it won't be cheap."
The blacksmith waited eagerly, expecting Edward, the Marquis's son, to pull out a pouch and casually toss a few gold coins onto the counter. But the truth was different. As the badly treated third son, Edward had been cut off from the family's wealth, so he couldn't pay for things like this with money, even though his family ruled the territory and collected taxes for the king.
Edward would simply do what he'd done in his previous regressions. He would offer the blacksmith iron ore as payment. Iron ore was the raw material used to make swords, the main driver of their cost, and the rest of the expenses could be covered by adding more ore on top.
But where had Edward gotten his hands on iron ore? From the monster pit where the goblins lived. It seemed the pit had a mining history long before it was turned into a goblin breeding ground, so, just like in his recent regressions, he would use the ore to pay for the sword.
Edward needed a custom sword of his own. One of the advantages of not using the family's enchanted blades was avoiding a weapon that clearly carried his father's sword intent on them.
"Iron ore. Would you be willing to accept iron ore as payment?" Edward asked.
"Iron ore? I can buy that from traders for next to nothing."
"Not that cheap low quality ore," Edward said, his voice getting quieter. "I'll give you the high quality ore that are difficult to get, and twice that much extra for your work."
The blacksmith's heart skipped a beat. The price of quality iron ore had been going up all over the Seven Kingdoms because there were rumors of trouble in the Iron Duchy. Finding a source of good ore that didn't involve paying a limb taking price and taxes on top was like a dream come true. He looked at Edward, his mind racing. 'What is a noble doing with iron ore?' But he quickly brushed off those thoughts, not wanting to bother himself with someone else's personal affairs.
Seeing the greedy look in the man's eyes, the blacksmith stood up straight and looked serious and calculating. He thought he could trick a sheltered noble who didn't know the real price of materials.
"Well," the blacksmith said, trying to sound smooth. "Good quality ore is risky. It takes time to process. If I'm taking ore as payment, I'll need… three thousand grams. Just for the work. And that's a deal."
He watched Edward, expecting him to agree right away just to get his sword. It was a huge amount – almost three times the normal price when you convert it to gold coins.
Edward leaned in, a cold, knowing smile on his face. "Three thousand grams for labor? Do you think I'm stupid? Even the best sword makers wouldn't charge more than eight hundred for a sword. The ore I'm offering is fifty percent better than regular ore. Fifteen hundred grams for the work, and not a bit more."
The blacksmith's eyes got wide. The boy knew his stuff. They argued back and forth for a while, with Edward shooting down every excuse the blacksmith made.
Finally, the blacksmith let out a long breath. "You're good at arguing, Young Lord. Fine. One thousand grams of raw ore for the work, plus the materials for the sword. Fifteen hundred grams total."
Edward held out his hand. "Agreed. I'll have the ore delivered to the back of your shop this week."
The blacksmith shook Edward's hand. The man's huge, rough hand met Edward's smaller, surprisingly strong one.
"It's a deal," the blacksmith said. "You'll get your sword, Edward Vistro. And I'll have the best iron around."