In the eastern quarter of Larkenshire, the buildings stood farther apart, separated by small yards enclosed with low stone walls. The layout was designed to accommodate workshops and crafting spaces that required more room than typical dwellings.

  Finn’s forge announced itself with the distinctive ring of hammer on metal—irregular but rhythmic. Edric rounded a corner to find a substantial stone building with high ceilings and wide doors that stood open to catch the afternoon breeze.

  It took Edric a moment to identify what felt off about the place. He had expected a scent of coal or charcoal, yet here, the atmosphere remained clear, carrying only the faintest tang of hot metal. Additionally, the forge lacked chimneys.

  The building’s size told its own story. This was no simple blacksmith’s workshop but a facility designed for several smiths working simultaneously. The main structure could easily accommodate six or seven workstations, with ample space for apprentices and support staff. The thin layer of dust and the hints of rust covering many surfaces and tools spoke volumes about the aftermath of the raid that had claimed most of Galenmurk’s smiths.

  *No wonder they’re struggling with metal production,* Edric thought as he stepped through the wide doorway.

  As his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness inside, he took in the layout—multiple workstations arranged around the perimeter, most showing obvious signs of disuse. Only one near the center displayed evidence of recent activity.

  A slim figure stood at an anvil, his silhouette backlit by an unusual orange glow. With each strike of the hammer, brief flashes illuminated a young face set in concentration. The smith—Finn, presumably—was younger than Edric had expected, perhaps in his late teens, with the toned but gangly build.

  Edric watched for a moment, assessing the boy’s technique. His hammer strikes showed competence but lacked the confidence of a seasoned craftsman.

  “Hello?” Edric called, not wanting to startle the youth by approaching unannounced.

  The hammer paused mid?swing as Finn looked up, squinting through the gloom toward the doorway. “Who’s there?” he asked, setting the hammer down and wiping his hands on a leather apron that hung loose on his thin frame.

  “My name is Edric,” he replied, stepping forward into the ambient light.

  Recognition dawned on the young smith’s face. “Oh! You’re the new hero everyone’s talking about.” His expression cycled rapidly from surprise to excitement to uncertainty. “The one who…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to politely reference Edric’s tournament performance.

  “The one who couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with an arrow,” Edric finished for him with a self?deprecating smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

  Finn’s shoulders relaxed, his mouth quirking into a tentative grin. “Well, I’m not much better with a hammer some days, so I won’t judge.” He gestured toward his current project—a partially formed piece of metal that might eventually become a horseshoe.

  As Edric approached, what he had assumed was a traditional forge revealed itself to be something quite different. Instead of the familiar coal or charcoal bed, there sat a crystal orb roughly the size of a small melon. It glowed with an orange?red light, radiating intense heat without apparent fuel or smoke.

  “Is that what you use to heat the metal?” Edric asked, unable to hide his fascination.

  Finn nodded. “A hearthstone. This one’s not the strongest, but it does the job for basic smithing.” He reached toward a lever near the stone and adjusted it slightly, causing the crystal’s glow to intensify. “Most folks with mana can use a hearthstone to some degree—adjust the output, direct the heat where needed.”

  “And where do these hearthstones come from?” Edric asked, studying the unusual heat source with undisguised curiosity. It was similar to the sunstones he’d already seen–but instead of light, this one was optimized for heat.

  “Only mages with light or heat conjuring magic can create them,” Finn explained, his tone suggesting this was common knowledge. “They’re rare in Galenmurk—we had to import this one from Merovia after the raid.” A shadow passed over his face at the mention of the attack.

  “I heard what happened,” Edric said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  Finn’s eyes fixed determinedly on his anvil. “I’ll manage,” he said, dismissing Edric’s concern. “Mother made me stay home that day—my cough was acting up again.” As if summoned by the mention, a dry hack escaped him, which he quickly suppressed. “Everyone else was taken. Eight smiths and apprentices.”

  “We tried bringing in smiths from other territories,” Finn continued, returning to his work. “Even offered double wages. No one would come—not after what happened. Even the smiths from our outlying settlements refused.” He brought the hammer down with slightly more force than necessary. “Can’t blame them, really. Why risk their necks?”

  *That’s a heavy burden to carry alone,* he thought.

  He rubbed his chin and looked back to the hearthstone powering the forge. The implications were fascinating. Controlled, smokeless heat without fuel consumption. Where in the world does the energy come from? Not that conjuring matter from nothing was any less unbelievable.

  Moving around the forge space, Edric began examining the available tools. A puzzled look slowly pulled at Edric’s face as he looked over the selection in front of him. He picked up a bronze chisel with a pattern of hammer marks along the edge characteristic of work hardening. The tool itself was simple enough, but its location didn’t yet add up. *Why would a blacksmith use such a soft metal for these tools?*

  *Odd,* he thought, picking up a punch with a bronze tip that showed significant mushrooming at its striking end—a problem that properly hardened steel would largely avoid.

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  Finally, he observed an iron blade with a work-hardened edge, which he was able to scratch with the bronze chisel.

  “Do you ever work with steel?” Edric asked casually, setting the tools down. Edric could only think of one good explanation for what he was seeing.

  For millennia, the difference between iron and steel had shaped the course of human civilization on Earth. Pure iron, while useful, was relatively soft and malleable—excellent for shaping but not ideal for tools requiring hardness or edge retention. Iron would deform under stress, blades would quickly dull, and cutting tools would require constant maintenance.

  Steel, by contrast, was iron transformed through the introduction of carbon—typically between 0.05% and 2%—altering the metal’s crystalline structure and dramatically improving its properties. The result was a material that could be both hard and malleable, capable of holding an edge while resisting fracture. This wasn’t merely a refinement—it was a revolution that had enabled everything from more durable swords to precision machinery.

  The discovery of steel production had been accidental in Edric’s world—an unavoidable byproduct of using carbon?rich fuels like charcoal in iron smelting. Over centuries, blacksmiths had discovered that iron heated in close contact with charcoal absorbed something from the fuel that changed its properties. This carburization process, eventually understood and refined, had become the foundation of modern metallurgy.

  “Steel?” Finn looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What was that?” he asked, pausing in his work.

  “Charcoal, do you use it here? For metalworking or otherwise?” Edric asked, getting to the heart of his question.

  Finn’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity. “I don’t know that word either. What is charcoal?”

  It was plain as day that Finn had no idea what Edric was talking about. A mix of disbelief and sudden excitement washed through him. An entire world with ironworking but no hint of steel production.

  “It’s a type of fuel,” Edric explained, mind racing. “Made by burning wood slowly with limited air. The result is mostly carbon—it burns hotter than raw wood and has… special properties when used in metalworking.”

  “Is that something from your homeland?” Finn asked, intrigued despite his confusion.

  “Yes,” Edric said. “And I think it could be very valuable here. With your permission, I’d like to try an experiment—a technique that might improve the quality of your ironwork significantly.”

  “What would this experiment involve?” Finn asked, setting down his hammer and giving Edric his full attention.

  “First, I’d need to produce some charcoal,” Edric said, already mentally outlining the process. “For that, I’d need access to wood and a location where we could build a small charcoal mound.”

  “And this would help with smithing somehow?” Finn’s expression was skeptical but curious.

  “It would do more than help.” Edric couldn’t quite keep the spark of excitement from his voice. “It could revolutionize it. The initial process I’m thinking of is called case hardening—it transforms the surface of iron tools, making them significantly harder and more durable. Far more durable than bronze tools with work-hardened edges.”

  Finn’s eyes widened slightly. “You can make iron hold an edge better than bronze? Without star?metal?”

  “Exactly,” Edric confirmed. “But first…” he trailed off, glancing toward the corner of the shop. “I’d need an axe.”

  “I have three finished axes in storage,” Finn offered, moving toward a cabinet near the back wall. “Not my finest work, but serviceable.”

  He returned with the axes laid out on a cloth. Edric examined them carefully, noting their consistent craftsmanship but foreign design. Very different from what he was accustomed to. But the fundamental problem with all of them was that they were built for a halfling’s stature.

  “These are well?made,” Edric said, “but I’d need something proportioned for someone my size. The weight distribution and handle length are all wrong for me.”

  Finn considered this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I could forge a new head—we have enough raw iron. But it would take time.”

  “I can help,” Edric offered. “And show you some patterns from my homeland that might work better for what I need.”

  Finn seemed intrigued by the proposition. “What kind of axe are you used to?”

  “A felling axe with a more wedge-shaped bit,” Edric explained, sketching the shape in the air with his finger.

  Over the next two hours, they worked together to forge a new axe head. Edric described the dimensions and proportions while Finn shaped the iron with growing confidence, clearly energized by the chance to learn something new. The hearthstone’s controllable heat allowed precise manipulation of the metal, though Edric found himself constantly thinking about how carbon infusion would have improved the final product.

  “For the handle,” Edric said as they examined the completed head, “we’ll need something longer than your standard hafts.”

  Finn nodded. “I’ve got some green ashwood we can shape. It’s flexible but strong.” He retrieved a piece of wood nearly as tall as himself. “We’ll need to dry it properly for the section that fits the eye, though, or it’ll shrink and loosen over time.”

  “Where I come from, we’d use hot sand for that,” Edric suggested.

  Finn’s eyes lit with understanding. “I have an iron pot we can use.”

  They filled the pot with fine sand and set it over the hearthstone, adjusting the magical heat until the sand grew hot but not scorching. While that warmed, they shaped the handle to fit Edric’s grip and height, carefully thinning and smoothing the wood to the proper dimensions.

  “Only the end needs to be fully dried,” Edric explained as they worked. “It’s fine if the rest retains some moisture.”

  When the sand reached the proper temperature, they buried the end of the handle that would fit into the axe head, watching as small wisps of steam curled away from the wood. After determining it was sufficiently dried, they fitted the handle to the head, securing it with both a wooden wedge and a metal pin for extra stability.

  The finished product wasn’t ornate, but it possessed a functional beauty. The weight felt right in his hands, the balance reminiscent of the axes he’d used back on Earth. He swung it experimentally, nodding with satisfaction.

  “This will serve perfectly,” he said. “Though eventually, I’d like to show you how we can make the edge hold better.”

  “How much do I owe you?” he asked, already reaching for his coin pouch.

  Finn named a price—two sted and five bits—that seemed modest given the work they’d put into the tool. Edric counted out the coins from his dwindling supply, watching as Finn stored them carefully in a small strongbox beneath the counter.

  “About this charcoal experiment,” Finn said as Edric secured the axe to his belt with a leather loop. “When would you want to start? And where?”

  “As soon as possible,” Edric replied, his mind already planning the steps. “I’ll need to gather suitable wood first, then find a good spot outside town for the charcoal mound. Once that’s ready, we can begin the case hardening.”

  Finn nodded, though his expression revealed he was still trying to piece together the unfamiliar concepts. Confusion lingered in his eyes, but curiosity gleamed brighter.

  “I’ll come back in several days when the charcoal is ready,” Edric continued. “We can select some simple tools to treat as a demonstration—perhaps a chisel or punch that needs regular maintenance.”

  “You really think this can improve our ironwork?” Finn asked, a hint of hope breaking through his carefully maintained composure.

  “I don’t think it,” Edric said with quiet certainty. “I know it. What I’m proposing isn’t just a minor improvement—it’s the beginning of a fundamental transformation.”

  As Edric left the forge, the afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the western horizon, casting long shadows across Larkenshire’s streets. The weight of the axe at his belt was reassuring—a tangible step toward his next goal.

  *They have iron but not steel*, he thought, still marvelling at the discovery. *With magical heat sources, they never needed to develop carbon-rich fuels, and without those fuels, they never discovered carburization. It’s such a simple thing, but the implications are enormous.*