Sunlight filtered through the thin morning mist, casting a warm golden glow across the humble rooftops of Blackstone Town.
From the stables came Ed's boisterous voice, mixed with the occasional disgruntled grunts of the rhinos.
Robert pushed open the stable door. A wave of warmth and the scent of hay and livestock washed over him. Inside, Ed was clumsily brushing one of the rhinos, which clearly wasn't enjoying it—it twisted its thick body, nearly knocking him over.
"My Lord, you're awake!" Ed called out, flashing his honest, good-natured grin while still gripping the brush. "These two little guys are full of energy! I fed them and gave them water last night. Slept soundly, too."
Robert stepped closer, observing the rhinos. Their hides looked darker and glossier now, a sign they were adapting well to their new environment. They no longer appeared as skittish as last night—just mildly irritated by Ed's persistent grooming.
"Hmm. They look good," Robert said approvingly. "Keep looking after them, Ed. I'll take a walk around town."
"Alright!" Ed replied cheerfully.
The rat problem in Blackstone Town had worsened in recent days. The number of Sand Rats was increasing rapidly. Robert had already ordered Old Buck to organize a town-wide extermination effort, but the simple tripwire traps they'd set up hadn't proven very effective.
Perhaps Huke, the town's blacksmith, could help forge something sturdier and more efficient—rat traps that were both sensitive and durable. It was a good reason to visit him anyway. Huke was said to possess ancient dwarven forging techniques, something exceedingly rare.
The blacksmith's shop stood on the western edge of town, a low stone house with a chimney that constantly belched black smoke. Even from a distance, the rhythmic "clang, clang" of hammer on metal could be heard.
When Robert approached, Huke was shirtless, his bronze, muscular body gleaming with sweat as he raised a massive hammer and brought it down on a red-hot iron block. Sparks flew with each strike.
The man looked to be in his forties—rugged, focused, and utterly absorbed in his work.
"Master Huke, busy as always?" Robert called from the doorway, waiting for the blacksmith to finish his current round of hammering before stepping inside.
Huke finally set the hammer down, grabbed a dipper, and gulped down several mouthfuls of water. He wiped the sweat from his face with a soot-stained towel hanging around his neck before turning to look at his visitor.
"My Lord?" Huke asked, surprised to see Robert there in person.
"I came to ask you for a favor," Robert said as he walked in. The air inside the forge was thick and scorching, filled with the smell of coal smoke and hot metal.
"The town's been struggling with a rat infestation. The people have made some simple traps, but they aren't working well. I wanted to ask if you could forge a few sturdier, more sensitive traps—something that can last and actually catch the rats."
As Robert spoke, his eyes wandered around the blacksmith's workshop. In one corner lay a pile of farm tools, horseshoes, and a few unfinished weapons. The craftsmanship was noticeably better than that of an ordinary rural smith.
His gaze eventually fell on a half-finished short axe beside the anvil. The weapon's smooth, heavy lines carried an unmistakable sense of precision—something refined beyond common ironwork.
"Master Huke," Robert said, almost casually, "your craftsmanship seems quite extraordinary."
Huke's eyes flickered briefly. He picked up the short axe and tapped its surface with a finger. A clear, ringing hum filled the air.
"A craftsman's skill should at least look the part," Huke said evenly, though his tone carried a quiet pride.
Robert stepped closer, pointing to a small, almost hidden hammer mark near the base of the axe. "This forging pattern… I've seen something like it before—on ancient dwarven relics."
At once, Huke's hand tightened around the axe. His eyes sharpened, wary and guarded. "You understand forging, my Lord?"
"A little," Robert said with a mild smile. "I've seen a few things on my travels."
He didn't press further, waiting instead for Huke to speak.
A heavy silence filled the workshop, broken only by the crackling of the forge.
Finally, Huke spoke in a low voice. "When I was young, I worked as a miner deep in the Blackstone Mountains. One day, a section of the mine collapsed, trapping me underground. While trying to find a way out, I stumbled upon an ancient dwarven chamber that had been exposed by the collapse."
He paused, lost in the memory. "That place was ancient. I found broken tools, rusted weapons—and a few stone tablets covered with dwarven forging inscriptions. I was trapped there for several days, long enough to study and memorize some of the techniques carved on those stones. When I was finally rescued, I left the mining team and came here, opening this forge."
Just as Robert had suspected.
"Dwarven forging techniques," Robert murmured, his tone filled with genuine admiration. "That's a priceless legacy. To think someone in this small town guards such knowledge…"
He looked at Huke with a hint of respect. "But tell me, Master Huke—don't you feel it's a waste to spend your life here making farm tools and horseshoes, with such skills?"
A faint bitterness crossed Huke's face. "What choice do I have? Dwarven methods are too conspicuous—they draw attention and trouble. And many advanced techniques require special materials, tools, and assistants. I'm just one man. I can't do it all."
He sighed deeply. "It's enough for me to make an honest living, quietly."
Robert took a step forward, his tone turning firm but encouraging. "What if I could change that? What if you pledged your allegiance to me? In return, I'll provide the resources, tools, and people you need. You could become a true master of forging—respected, known, and free to use your skills without fear."
Huke's chest rose and fell heavily. The offer shook him. For years he had suppressed his own ambitions, buried his dreams under soot and metal. On one side was stability; on the other, a risky but meaningful path.
He looked down at his rough, scarred hands—the hands of a man who had always worked, always endured. His gaze shifted to the unfinished axe, a symbol of his unfulfilled potential.
After a long silence, Huke clenched his jaw and said firmly, "Very well. My Lord, I'll follow you. Just tell me what you need of me!"
Robert smiled, satisfied.
Years of quiet frustration and unrealized talent found release in that moment. No craftsman wanted to remain unknown forever.
Huke hesitated for a moment, then added, "My Lord, if I may… I have a request."
"Speak freely, Master Huke," Robert said, his tone generous. "If it's within my power, I won't refuse."
"I have a son—Huba. If possible, I'd like him to serve under you as a squire, to learn the path of knighthood."
He gestured toward the young man who had been quietly assisting him. Huba stepped forward nervously and knelt before Robert.
Robert smiled. "Master Huke, I accept your son as my squire."
Huke's eyes widened in gratitude, and he immediately dropped to one knee beside his son.
Robert chuckled and helped them both to their feet.
"Ed," he said, turning to his loyal companion standing nearby, "Huba will be my first squire. Before he earns his knighthood, he'll follow you. Teach him everything you know—every technique, every principle of being a knight. Help him grow quickly."
"Yes, my Lord," Ed replied, nodding with determination.
"Good." Robert smiled, clearly pleased. "I'll have Mayor Buck assign you a few apprentices, Huke—young men willing to work hard. You'll train them and teach them the basics while working on your craft. A dozen will do for now."
"No problem at all!" Huke said enthusiastically, his earlier weariness gone. "My Lord, I'll teach them everything I've learned. Forging rat traps will be good practice for them to start with."
He pounded his chest with pride. "You can count on me!"
Robert nodded, satisfied. Both father and son had newfound purpose. A blacksmith who possessed dwarven forging knowledge was a rare and invaluable asset.
As Robert stepped out of the forge, the clang of metal behind him sounded different—livelier, filled with ambition and hope.
Blackstone Town had just gained a true master craftsman, and Robert knew this was only the beginning.