Chapter 37: The Forge Within
The sun had already welcomed the dusk when Zaara and Noel, both dressed in travel cloaks, stood beside Zirak at the edge of the carriage station. A cold breeze whisked through the open platforms as carriage wheels clattered softly over gravel as a pair of sleek black horses pulled an ornate coach down the main avenue. Today, they would journey to the outer district where Aunt Amen's forge resided.
Zaara was practically bouncing on her boots, excitement beaming from her eyes. Noel stood quietly beside her, hands tucked into her sleeves, her expression unreadable as usual.
"Remember," Zirak said as the horse carriage rumbled into place, "Amen doesn't take apprentices easily. Her forge isn't just about tools and heat. It's about understanding what you are willing to endure."
Zaara nodded. "I'm ready."
"Me too," Noel added softly.
Zirak raised a brow at that but said nothing. He simply ushered them inside the carriage.
The carriage came to a stop near the edge of the Crafting Quarter—a district filled with the rhythmic clang of hammers, the smoky scent of forge-fire, and the earthy smell of oiled leather and coal.
The forge was unlike anything Zaara had imagined. It wasn't nestled in a workshop or hidden in some quiet industrial corner—it was built into the side of a mountain crater, deep and black, pulsing with heat and pressure. The forge itself looked ancient. Forges burned across multiple levels, and the place smelled of molten ore, oil, and dust. Among the many workshops was a large, weather-worn building with a symbol of a hammer over an anvil etched into its arched gate.
Amen waited for them at the entrance, arms crossed, her coat flared like a warrior's cape. She was broad-shouldered and unshaken by the heat, her dark eyes scanning both girls with a mixture of interest and scepticism.
"You brought two?" she grunted at Zirak.
He nodded. "She's curious." He pointed to Zaara. Then to Noel, "And she's ... persistent."
Amen's eyes narrowed slightly, resting on Noel a moment longer. "Fine. They both can try. But no soft hearts in my forge. If they can't handle heat or steel, I won't waste time."
Zaara stepped forward first. "We'll do our best."
Noel said nothing, but her eyes met Amen's steadily.
Amen grunted. "Fine. Let's see if either of them has fire in their bones."
The group followed Amen into the workshop's chaotic hall. The hall was littered with all sorts of metal components Zaara could barely recognise. Most of these were likely components of low-level mechas. After passing through the hall, she led them to a smaller side forge in one of the inner rooms. Tools were laid out: tongs, hammers, files, and rods of half-melted iron and different metals.
The first test was simple: shaping iron with bare tools, no essence allowed. Amen watched from a distance as the girls were handed hammers and tasked with shaping raw iron into a blade-like form.
Zaara, though inexperienced, showed resolve. Her strikes were uneven but full of heart. Sweat poured down her brow, her arms ached, but she didn't stop.
Noel was different. She handled the hammer like she had seen it before in a life she barely remembered. Each strike was quiet, deliberate. She didn't move quickly, but her precision was unsettling.
Amen was standing beside Zirak, and she grumbled to him, "Hey, Zirak. I really didn't want to accept them in the beginning. I'm not a monster to take work from children - they are too young."
"Just watch." Replied Zirak in a calm tone. Amen gritted her teeth as she replied, "You really are a heartless Iron-blooded person like before."
As she watched the two girls working on the forging table, her expression turned from frown to a surprise and then to an unbelievable expression.
By the end of the trial , both succeeded, and Zaara's blade was crooked but strong. Noel's was smooth and unfinished—but flawless in form.
Amen said nothing. She only nodded and moved to the next station. She decided to further test their capabilities.
They learned to work the bellows together. Then, to read the colours of heated metals. Then came alloy mixing.
Noel asked no questions but always did exactly what wasn't expected from a seven years old girl. Zaara struggled with the technique but compensated with creativity. She used old cultural patterns to shape the alloy moulds, giving each blade a unique style. Amen raised an eyebrow at that and looked at Zirak.
By late midnight, the forge glowed like a furnace heart. Amen finally addressed them as she sighed.
"Most would quit midway. But you both kept going."
Zaara smiled through her exhaustion. Noel only nodded, her face streaked with soot.
Amen was truly surprised to see the two girls capabilities, especially from Noel as she did every task flawlessly as if she was born as a forger. She cried internally, 'Zirak! Why normal logic didn't work on you and your relatives!'
Amen continued, "Forging isn't about weapons. It's about resilience. You may become warriors or not. But if you survive this path, your hearts will be harder than steel."
She placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You're both in. Tomorrow, we begin true work."
Zirak exhaled from behind them, a smile tugging at his lips concealed by his white robe.
Zaara beamed. Noel, for the first time, smiled back.