Across the flagstones, apprentice smiths hurried between the quenching troughs, stacking spare tongs and dry cedar charcoal blocks beside the twin hearths within reach of the forge team.
Ferra sorted one cracked socket from the sound fittings and set it where the apprentices could reach it without crossing the quenching run.
Ferra tapped her round-nosed hammer against the horn of the anvil, listening to the pure ring of the steel.
Three grounding fixtures were anchored securely into the bedrock, forming the foundation of her field circuit.
"Two hours to get this place ready," she muttered, adjusting her leather headband, "assuming that choral bastard gives us two hours."
Across the workshop, three apprentice smiths from the Sixth District tended the twin hearths with careful attention.
"Keep those bellows steady," Ferra warned, pointing her hammer toward the flue dampers.
"Letting that hearth cool means starting the entire tempering cycle from the beginning!"
