Chapter 177

Not everyone was so lucky to get a class they loved, but Shara had. Her dad had been a [Blacksmith], and so had his dad, and his dad’s dad too—basically as far back as anyone could remember. It had been a given she’d follow in their footsteps. And sure, it could be grueling work—backbreaking sometimes—and the forge could be insufferably hot in the summer, but it was fulfilling. The thrill of creating. In making something new. Taking raw materials and shaping them into a purposeful creation. Something that might even save a person’s life.

Shara specialized in weapons and armor. Delving equipment. There was no shame in more mundane sorts of blacksmithing, in horseshoes, nails, and farming implements; that had been her father’s main source of income. Most blacksmiths. But Shara’s path was definitely the more lucrative—and the rarer. She considered herself blessed to have unlocked skills that had brought her here. To a forge in the heart of Aradon’s crafting district, apprenticed under a much more demanding, but also more skilled, master.

Like most people, she had imagined what it would be like to receive a different class, something that would lead her into the dungeon. But honestly, beyond entertaining the idea in daydreams, Shara didn’t want anything to do with delving. With violence in any capacity, honestly. A glance at her might suggest otherwise: her stature, build, and her arms like tree trunks, inherited from her father as much as they were earned on the anvil. People told her she had a serious demeanor too: that she was always frowning and intimidating people just by existing. She thought that was their imagination, but maybe there was some truth to it.

Regardless, despite her size and stature, the only time a weapon belonged in her hands was when she was beating them into shape. Not only would she try almost anything before things came to violence, but she was downright awful at fighting, too. Even simple weapons—even a hammer, which she used every day—took a surprising amount of skill to utilize in a deadly way. Her embarrassing, secretive attempts at wielding her own creations had proven that.

As much as Shara’s new work in Aradon fascinated her, in Master Lee’s forge and the infinite variety of orders, the new clientele interested her just as much. Delvers. The backbone of society. All people were that, in some way or another, but delvers especially. At first, Shara had been awkward around them, intimidated by their status, especially the Tenet students—who would, as a general rule, each grow to be pillars of their respective houses and communities. Or find an early grave. That was the associated risk.

Thankfully, she’d gotten over the hero-awe rather fast. Especially after one too many princelings turned their nose up at her while putting in a commission. She generally liked the first-timer delvers who didn’t belong to Tenet, or even students of the non-sanctioned academies. Obviously, she didn’t make nearly as much commission on each piece, but beyond being easier to work with, the armor and weapons she created did more to keep them safe. They needed solid gear far more than the Tenet students did, and so, it felt like her hard work went to better use.

Not everyone from the Academy was insufferable, though. Point in case: a familiar face walking up to Shara’s forge. She paused as the flash of red hair caught her eye, blacksmith’s hammer hesitating at the apex of its arc. She glanced in the woman’s direction to confirm that it was, indeed, that Tenet student from last week. Or had it been two weeks ago? Time blurred under Master Lee’s instruction. Shara’s life had gotten outrageously busy since her awakening. Not that she was complaining; being here was an opportunity she could only have dreamed of.