1 The boy in the forge

Kilat a tiny village at the end of the continent surrounded by green forests. It was known for the Azkar mountains to the east that were close to the town, with snowy peaks and taller than the most impressive tower you could find in all the world. Beautiful creeks traveled down the hillside becoming silver lines from the top of the mountain to create rivers and lakes nearby.

Darkness covered the village of Kilat while a single and repetitive sound was lingering in the air. The sound was akin to a hammer going down hitting an iron anvil. From an open window, we could see a young man sweating profusely while displaying great skill, his eyes showed no distraction while working on the bronze axe that was scorching hot showing an intense orange color.

It was a simple forge room, with four walls made of grey rock, and a massive wooden door on one side. You could see an iron anvil in the middle, the furnace currently with some perishing flames in one of the walls, a bucket of cold water near the anvil, and even some tools hanging all around the place.

A young man around sixteen years old, with an impressive stature of 6.1 ft (180 cm) and a slim body that was hiding the explosive aura in his muscles that he exuded every time the hammer went down to hit the anvil. The force behind each movement carried some invisible pressure unseen to untrained eyes.

His green eyes did not dare to lose any focus that could make the tiniest mistake, he used one of his forearms to keep the sweat out of his face, also pushing his brownish hair out of his handsome face, his skin was toned from what could be constant working in the outdoors under the sun. The boy stopped for a second to admire his workmanship, a glint in his eyes blinking with passion.

His name? Alexander, Alex for his friends and family.

The art of forging, a complicated way of giving life to the metals, transforming them into capable tools, beautiful decorations or deadly weapons, items capable of taking a man´s life in a single slash or able to win a person's affection.

While not being a master, the young man gave a feeling of someone that had trained in the art since young, someone that grew with the heat of a furnace in his heart, and templated in the sounds of the anvil, inspired to get a better understanding of the art, never going down without a proper reason, and always finishing the job.

Currently, Alex was working in an order of one of the lumberjacks of the village, who claimed that after cutting a tree in a single chop that only three fully grown men could cover if they made a circle around it, had lost his most precious axe.

Fairy tales of a villager that has never been outside to see the world. Everything he said was a lie to cover the truth to everyone, all the folks around town already knew that he usually loses his axes in the woods after falling asleep. The lumberjack Romwe was not the most brilliant person.

To Alex this task that his stepfather gave him was very frustrating and boring, you could not blame him, the axe in the anvil was order number 39 of the same customer after losing his axes in the most ´heroic´ ways.

Romwe always came to his father because he was the only master forger in the entire town and being friends since long ago his father accepted every single time to help him. Of course, after getting tired of creating axes he gave the task to his son so that he could "practice".

"Lazy old man" grumbled Alex.

Suddenly a beautiful aroma started reaching through the door permeating with an incredible smell of his surroundings. Alex pulled the hammer up to keep working when he took a deep breath the perfect smell entering his nose.

"Buns?" he thought.

With the distraction the hammer went down another time and failed to hit the correct spot, the force made a weird angle on the axe almost breaking it.

"Oh no, father will kill me" he whispered in a low voice.

Knowing that he screwed up and not wanting to lose his allowance, he hammered again trying to fix his error in a pointless way, the axe didn't have a way to be fixed now that he used too much force.

Doral is his stepfather although until recently Alex thought he was his actual father. It wasn't a cakewalk when he found out, the information came with a shock recently, but after sixteen years of calling him father, he just couldn't stop.

Doral taught him a lot of things while growing up, he was there when he learned to walk, talk, run, forge, read, etc. normal stuff you learn with a father. He even took his first beer with him, an experience he really wants to forget, on a side note let just say that he made a promise to never touch the alcohol of the tavern again.

*Shiver

He couldn't bring himself to call the person that raised him another thing that wasn't "father".

"Alex! Get down here, dinner is ready" called an old voice.

"What to do now?"

Being the adoptive son of an old blacksmith came with luxuries, sadly no, I'm not talking about gold or riches, more in having a special way to fix the lame error he made. The only problem was that the "old blacksmith" prohibited him the use of this technique that could fix the axe because it was a legacy passed by his ancestor making it one of his most precious possessions.

Doral used to say that it was a waste to use it in non-important objects.

The reason for not being able to use this "legacy" laid in the final product that will result from using the skill. The material in some magical way will get refined and sometimes evolve. A normal iron rock could turn into Elite-iron or even a greater form.

All materials were divided into different categories from cheap, normal, great, elite, perfect, and sacred. The last one was only mentioned in tales from legendary warriors.

Doral does not want the extra attention because it could become troublesome. All materials above normal are handled by merchants of big cities and the throne, a little village like ours could never have anything like that.

"If I actually use the ´circling hammer´ Doral would easily find out and I will be forced to make 100 nailheads again with a time limit as punishment, but if I don't finish soon, the buns will get cold". Alex talked in a low voice to not be overheard.

The time limit consisted of 40 mins, (AN: A competent workman takes less than 30 seconds for nailhead so 100 nailheads = 50 mins at least) if he does not finish in that time another batch of fifty will be added, the last time he was left so tired that he slept for more than 13 hours.

"Why does he need so many nails, is he building a fortress of solitude?" He grumbled.

Let's go back a little and start thinking about the ones responsible for the mistake, buns, one of the most wonderful creations of the gods, a dish that included everything; flavor, smell, even crunchiness if you left them a little more in the furnace, and then the softness that could kill a thousand clouds in envy.

If you look through the window of the house, you could see a young man making a fist to the air mouthing the word "buns" almost in tears.

The so-called gift from the gods was a piece of bread that Doral could make and for Alex, it was more precious than being scolded heavily. Getting away from his entrancement about buns made Alex remember some of his past, and why he couldn't use the technique imparted to him by his father.

Alex always thought that the way of speaking of the old blacksmith when talking about the past or the future was weird like if something or someone was looking for them and they need to stay undercover to avoid problems, he never considered further because he had an easy-going life in Kilat.

Alex actually didn't understand the situation, everything he has known since being a brat was the little village, and its surroundings.

He would sometimes travel to the forest to look around and hunt, his life was very repetitive, the most interesting thing that happened in the village was that time they saw the birth of a cow in the neighbors house.

He talked to Doral once telling him that he wanted to go to other places to look around and polish his skills while traveling. Doral refused and told him to not think of getting out of the village until he was a grown up. So, he made up ith his curiosity while reading some of the books of his father.

Reading was one of his favourite hobbies during the day. It was a skill that only a few people in the village had because it was not necessary for the kind of life they had. Alex thought different, reading opened new worlds to him, they helped him expand his knowledge and even created a peaceful and stress-free environment while sitting on the roof of the house.

That is where he founded information about the things that happened in the continent of Hogron in the past. The best book he read so far was the one describing the beasts of the country, he could use the information to brag to his friends and it was very helpful for the time he goes out of the village.

Alex was a normal boy, he had some friends that always got him in more trouble than he needed like when they stole the sausages of the butcher's shop and blame it on huge street dogs, or when they made a stampede of cows after hitting one with a rock, it needs to be clarified that the ´cows' of the village were huge meat beast almost double the size of a normal cow (AN: Earth´s standard), and let's just say that they didn't like to be taunted so after the rock hit the leader of the herd, all of the animals start to chase them until the caretaker started singing to calm them down.

The other day he even saw a beautiful girl named Valtya, he didn't talk to her much, she is the daughter of the village chief and was the most beautiful girl in the entire place, with average looks to outsiders, but the goddess of all the young men that only knew about life in the little village, of course, his perspective of her didn't pass the simple word of ´someone with good looks' because of the temper that she had that made even devils run in fear.

When the village´s chief wife passed away from a disease, the chief was devastated, but seeing his only child he decided to give her the best life he could with gifts like jewels or the most precious clothes, the chief passed through a lot of hardships to ensure that his princess could be happy, but he couldn't cover everything in parenthood, and because of his duty as chief he neglected something, and that was giving more attention and a firm hand to his spoiled child that thought that everything belonged to her, behaving like a brat ridiculing the village´s people to actually abusing some of them.

The chief wasn't aware of these facts, because he always thought that her little girl was a saint full of purity and innocence. After all, that was the way she behaved in the house.

But Alex and Doral didn't care about Valtya, the importance of the daughter of the chief was her butler. Usually, when she went out of the house to walk, a group of guards will follow her, but when she went to see one of her friends or she wanted to walk into the woods, the butler would tag along with her to ensure her safety, an outsider could think that the butler was your typical old man with problems in their bones but they could never be near the real truth, he was a veteran of the army, the man that led the battle to repel the Ytos several years ago and won with the minimal causalities.

Doral would always tell Alex to be careful around him, he was an impressive man and maybe the most powerful in the whole village.

The butler was a valiant man that took the enemy's leader head in a raid and put an end to the fight by trampling over the enemies troops, faster than anybody could follow, not even the shamans of the tribe could help deal with him, considered a hero of the kingdom and wanting a simple job he moved to Kilat to take life passively, and protecting the little princess from almost no threat was an incredible opportunity to have a leisure life.