The morning coffee ritual had become something of a meditation for Elias, a quiet moment before the day's work began in earnest. As he sat at his small kitchen table, watching steam rise from his mug, his mind was already turning toward his newest project—one that had nothing to do with blades or inscriptions, at least not directly.
The idea of strengthening his body had taken root during yesterday's hangover, but now, with a clear head and steady hands, he could see the practical necessity of it. His work was becoming increasingly demanding, requiring hours of precise hammering, grinding, and engraving that left his shoulders tight and his lower back aching. If he was going to continue pushing the boundaries of what was possible with enhanced tools, he needed to ensure that his body could keep pace with his ambitions.
But what kind of equipment would serve him best? Elias had never been particularly athletic, preferring intellectual pursuits to physical ones throughout his youth. His knowledge of fitness equipment extended little beyond the basic awareness that such things existed. The question was whether to invest time and effort in creating something comprehensive—a machine that could work his entire body—or to focus on something simpler and more targeted.
The solution to his dilemma came to him as he was refilling his coffee cup. Curtis Brennan. They'd been friends since college, bonding over late-night philosophical discussions and a shared appreciation for craftsmanship, though Curtis had channeled his interests toward architecture rather than metalwork. More importantly for his current predicament, Curtis had always been into fitness, maintaining the kind of disciplined exercise routine that Elias had always admired but never adopted.
They hadn't spoken in months, maybe longer, but Curtis was one of the few friendships that had survived both the years and the divorce. Some relationships required constant maintenance, but others seemed to pick up exactly where they'd left off, regardless of the gaps between conversations.
Elias found Curtis's number in his phone and dialed before he could second-guess himself.
"Elias Thorn," Curtis's voice came through the speaker, warm with genuine pleasure. "Well, I'll be damned. How long has it been?"
"Too long," Elias admitted. "How are you doing, Curtis?"
"Can't complain. Just finished a project downtown—a small office building, nothing revolutionary, but it pays the bills and keeps me busy. More importantly, how are you holding up? Last I heard, you were dealing with some rough patches."
The divorce. Curtis was tactful enough not to name it directly, but they both knew what he meant. "I'm doing better," Elias said honestly. "Actually getting some interesting work done in the shop. Found my focus again, I think."
"Good to hear. You know, if you need a good party to help forget about all that unpleasantness, I know some people who throw legendary gatherings. Nothing like good company and questionable decisions to put life in perspective."
Elias smiled at the offer, recognizing the genuine concern behind Curtis's characteristic humor. "Thanks, but I'm not really in a party mood these days. Actually, I was calling because I need some advice about something completely different."
"Shoot. What's on your mind?"
"Fitness equipment," Elias said, feeling slightly foolish as he said it. "I'm thinking about setting up some kind of exercise routine. My work's getting more physically demanding, and I'm realizing that my body isn't keeping up with what I'm asking it to do."
There was a pause, then Curtis's laughter—not mocking, but genuinely delighted. "Elias Thorn is finally interested in sports? Mark the calendar, this is historic. What brought on this revelation?"
"I'm getting old," Elias said simply. "And forging iron requires more strength than I realized when I was younger. I figure it's time to do something about it before I hurt myself."
"Fair enough. What are you looking for exactly? Is there particular equipment?"
Elias considered the question. "Something comprehensive, I suppose. I don't know enough about this stuff to design a targeted routine, so I was thinking about equipment that could give me the biggest return on investment."
"That depends on what you mean by equipment," Curtis said, and Elias could hear the familiar note of thoughtful analysis that made his friend such a good architect. "If you want the absolute best full-body workout, swimming is probably your answer. Works everything, easy on the joints, builds both strength and endurance."
"I need something I can use at home," Elias interrupted. "Either in the workshop or in my apartment. Swimming would mean going to a pool regularly, and I'm not sure I have that kind of discipline."
"Indoor options, then. If you want machines, rowing and cross-training equipment are both excellent for full-body work. A good rowing machine will work your legs, core, back, and arms all at once. Cross-trainers—elliptical machines with moving handles—give you similar benefits with less technique required."
Curtis paused, probably thinking through the practical implications. "Of course, both of those are relatively large machines. They'll take up significant space, and quality versions aren't cheap. If you want something simpler, you can accomplish quite a lot with basic strength training. A barbell for exercises like back squats and deadlifts, plus some dumbbells for supplementary work. Much more compact, much less expensive, and incredibly effective if you stick with it."
The suggestion resonated immediately. Elias could easily envision a barbell and weights fitting into his workshop space without disrupting his regular work. More importantly, creating his own equipment would give him complete control over the materials and construction—and open up possibilities that Curtis couldn't even imagine.
"The barbell option sounds right," Elias said. "Back squats and deadlifts—those work multiple muscle groups?"
"Absolutely. Deadlifts are probably the single best exercise for overall strength development. They work your entire posterior chain—hamstrings, glutes, erector spinae, traps, rhomboids. Back squats hit your quads, glutes, and core. Add some basic pressing movements and pulls, and you've got everything you need for fundamental strength development."
They talked for another few minutes about basic routine structure and safety considerations before Elias thanked his friend for the advice.
"We should get together for drinks soon," Curtis said before they hung up. "It's been too long, and I'd love to hear more about these interesting projects you mentioned."
"I'd like that," Elias replied, surprised to realize he meant it. "I'll call you in a few days and we'll set something up."
After ending the call, Elias sat back in his chair and considered what Curtis had told him. A rowing machine or cross-trainer would certainly be effective, but they would also be complex mechanical projects that would consume weeks of design and fabrication time. The barbell and weights, on the other hand, were fundamentally simple—steel shaped and balanced to precise specifications, engineered for strength rather than complexity.
This was exactly what he'd been hoping for when the idea of strengthening his body had first occurred to him. A standard barbell was essentially a steel bar with threaded ends to accommodate weight plates. The engineering was straightforward, the materials readily available in his workshop. He had steel stock in various dimensions, a lathe for turning the ends to proper specifications, and all the threading tools necessary to create standard weight plate connections.
More importantly, the barbell would provide ample surface area for inscription work. Unlike the compact tools he'd created before, exercise equipment offered space for more elaborate engraving, potentially allowing for more complex or powerful enhancements than he'd attempted previously.
The complexity of the project was beginning to reveal itself, but rather than being daunting, it felt energizing. This would be his one of most ambitious attempt yet at practical enhancement—creating tools that would directly improve his physical capabilities rather than just his craftsmanship.
Elias finished his coffee and began sketching rough designs on a piece of scrap paper. Standard Olympic barbells were seven feet long and weighed forty-five pounds when unloaded. The steel needed to be precisely balanced and capable of supporting several hundred pounds of additional weight without bending or failing. The knurled grip sections required careful attention to provide secure hand placement without being uncomfortable during extended use.
By the time he'd filled the page with measurements and notes, his decision was made. The barbell and weights would be simpler to produce than complex machines, more compact for his limited space, and infinitely more interesting as experimental subjects for enhancement.
The real work would begin tomorrow, but already he could envision the finished product—a perfectly balanced bar of steel, inscribed with carefully chosen words in a language that would bind strength and growth to metal, creating equipment that would transform not just his exercise routine but his fundamental physical capabilities.
The enhanced burin rested in his workshop, ready for inscription work that would make his previous projects seem simple by comparison. This time, he wasn't just creating tools for his craft—he was creating tools to remake himself.