Almost Ten Years Later

It was six o clock, the sun had just set in Cobble Stones, it created an orange-reddish glow around the town, making it golden. Creatures of all kinds roamed around the streets, eager to return home from a busy day at work but Arian Silversmith and her grandfather –Adam Silversmith were on their way to the Silversmith Forge.

Her grandfather had forgotten important documents in the Forge and had to return to collect them, he decided to take Arian along after she begged and pleaded, a million of times to take her with. She grabbed on his leg and would not let go of his leg until he accepted.

Arian had inherited the Silversmith’s silver hair and eyes and her plump lips and strong jaw from her mother. She had a smaller frame compared to the average boys in Cobble Stones. She was dressed as a boy, her clothes were chosen by her mother, Martha Silversmith. She wore long brown trousers, a smart white shirt, a brown woolly jacket and a reddish hat which was the current fashion trend in Cobble Stones.

Martha Silversmith insisted that the Silversmith family keep up with the latest fashion and other popular trends but the rest of the Silversmiths never bothered much with what was considered popular, rather they were into the old traditional comfortable clothes.

Martha could not control the entire Silversmith clan but she tried her damnedest to force her husband and daughter to consent to her fashionable desires. She would squander the family wealth on trendy goods whilst Rodger Silversmith would try to sneak in an imitation of these trendy goods on offer but Martha had a good nose on expensive goods and quality.

Martha loved to spend extravagantly to boast of the family wealth, but at the same time, Rodger loved to save every penny with such strong self-restraint… and Arian was caught in between but never minded, she loved them both but at times she, began to wonder if she loved the Blacksmith business more.

She would rather spend time learning about the processes of Black-Smithery with her grandfather than learning to spend or save money from her parents.

Her grandfather was a stern and strict man, who was much like the walking Law of Traditional Blacksmiths, he could recite all of the rules by heart and expected everyone in the Silversmith family to do so, as well. He had very high expectations for Arian as the only heir of the Silversmith Forge and had read to her the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths as bedtime reading when she was a baby, and throughout her growing years, had taught her all the theory he knew that would make her the best Blacksmith in all of Terram.

Arian was passionate and eager to learn, lingering on every word that her grandfather had taught her. She had a natural passion for the Art of Black-Smithery.

She anxiously held her grandfather’s hand as they walked towards the Silversmith Forgery. “Grandad, hurry and open the door,” she said, eagerly when they had stopped in front of the Forge. She tried to peer through the glass window, but it was tinted black. As soon as the sun would set, the once transparent windows in the daytime became black. “I can’t see anything,” she moaned at her grandfather.

He glanced down at her. “Arian, your impatience is your weakness,” he told her, his aging silver eyes filled with love and wisdom. “You know, you have to wait outside here until you turn ten,” he told Arian.

“But granddad!” whined Arian, “I’m turning ten next week! I came all this way, can’t I just have a quick look around?”

“We cannot disobey any one of the rules of the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths,” reminded her grandfather, “the Law is alive, it remembers everything –even the time you accidentally got into the Forge.”

Arian remembered the time she had accidentally stumbled into the Forge. Children under the age of ten –especially the future inheritors of the Black-Smitheries were ban from the Forge, it was forbidden for them to enter the Black-Smithery until their trainable age.

But, when Arian had accidentally entered the Forge, she had entered a new world of discovery and excitement. She had experienced something marvellous that created a bright warmth magic in her tiny soul. It was better than anything she had read and seen in the textbooks her grandfather had given her on the Art of Blacksmithing. Before she had been discovered in the Black-smithery, she had spent hours in the Forgery, asking the workers’ questions, feeling the hardness of the metal, mesmerised by the flickering fire and the igniting sparks from the blades being hammered. There was something fascinating about the smoky smell and heat, the clanging noise and the yellowish flickers of light.

It was magical, it was enchanting. It was Blacksmithing and her tiny heart urged to learn more about it.

“But grandad, the Law is old! I just want to see the tools and anvils in the Forge again!” she whined with desperation, eagerly wanting to experience the magical warm feeling. “Plllllleeaaasseeee, grandad. Pretty please. I won’t break anything or even touch anything. I swear on the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths!”

“No, Arian. You know the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths forbids you from entering until you are ten years old, and you shouldn’t make such easy oaths. The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths is alive and will make sure you carry your oath until death,” reprimanded her grandfather, firmly. He patted her short silver hair. “Even if the Law is old. The Law is the law and we have to obey it. We cannot make exceptions concerning the rules of the Law, if we do, then the foundation of the Blacksmith Industry would be fallible.”

Arian pouted, folding her arms in silent protest.

Her grandfather knelt down before her and ruffled her hair. “You wait here while I get the documents, but first recite the first three rules of the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths,” he smiled as he waited.

“One, Respect and obey the rules and conditions of the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths. Second, Respect the ingredients of the Blacksmith Industry. Third, Respect the elders and ancestors of the Blacksmith Industry,” said Arian, sulkily.

“Well done!” cried her grandfather, smiling with pride. “Wait next week for your birthday and you can officially train as a Blacksmith apprentice.”

“Yes, grandad,” said Arian, broodingly.

Her grandfather went into the Silversmith Forge leaving Arian outside. She pressed her face against the window of the Forge, trying her best to peek through the black tint to identify the tools used for Blacksmithing but she could not see much.

“The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths is so annoying,” muttered Arian, pulling her head back but someone forcefully pushed it forward, slamming her head to into the glass.

“Arian the loser Silversmith,” taunted Gyllene Goldsmith, flattening Arian’s face against the window with his hands. “You are still underage and cannot enter your family Forge.”

Arian struggled to get Gyllene’s hands off the back of her head but after a moment, she swerved and slipped out of his grip and fell on her bottom while Gyllene stood dumbstruck by her sudden movement.

“I’ll be able to enter next week! And don’t you have anything better to do, besides bullying the innocent?” she lashed out, rubbing the pain off her forehead, noticing that Gyllene wore the exact fashionable clothes as her.

“Obviously not, there is nothing more important than harassing a Silversmith. My mother and I were riding the carriage when we saw your depressing figure on the road. She advised me to politely say hello with an insult or two,” said Gyllene, smiling spitefully. Gyllene Goldsmith was a tall and muscular ten year old, he had golden hair and green eyes. “She was a bit upset that you are wearing the same clothes as me.”

“Polite hellos whether insults or not, are verbal, you don’t have to touch me” said Arian, standing up and dusting off her clothes. “And everyone in Cobble Stones can wear whatever they choose!” she grounded at Gyllene.

“Polite verbal hellos are for the normal folk of Cobble Stones not for the likes of Silversmiths,” said Gyllene, smiling mockingly. “You are sure small for an almost ten year old and those clothes don’t suit you.” He drew closer to Arian and began poking her on the chest. “What are you going to do?” –Poke– “You are just a small fry.” –Poke– “I suggest you change your clothes to something more of your level,” said Gyllene, darkly.

Arian slapped Gyllene’s finger away. “My level?” said Arian, incredulously. “And what exactly is my level?”

“Something torn or eroded, it suits your ugly silver features,” said Gyllene, beginning to poke Arian again on the chest. “Like that robe your grandfather wears!”

“Gyllene Goldsmith,” said Arian, grinding her teeth. “How can you insult my grandfather! He is one of the elders of the Blacksmith Industry. You are bound by the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths to adhere to the rules,” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of his poking finger.

“The Law of Traditional Blacksmiths? HAH! How do you even know the rules of that Law? You aren’t supposed to do any learning on the Blacksmith Industry until you are ten years old,” said Gyllene, upset that Arian was scolding him about the rules and conditions of the Law of Traditional Blacksmiths. He pulled his finger away from her.

“You can’t enter the Forge or practice until you are ten but it doesn’t say you can’t learn the theory of the Art of Black-Smithery,” said Arian like Gyllene was an idiot.

Gyllene did not miss the condescending tone. “Arian Silversmith, you sicken me! Acting like you know everything when in fact you don’t! I’ll show you.” He swung his fist at Arian and she felt the painful blow on her face and was knocked off her feet. Her back faced the ground whilst Gyllene leapt on top of her and grabbed her collar. He began punching her on the face, while she attempted to put her arms up in defence.

“You are nothing but a bully, Gyllene,” yelled Arian in the midst of getting punched. Gyllene got more enraged when he heard her yell an insult and wanted to strangle her. As he tried to part her hands to strangle her, Arian used this chance to instantly tackle him down, turning him on the ground.

She was on top of him and punched once, slamming her fist into Gyllene’s chin but before she could do any more damage, her grandfather stood over her with an angry frown.

“Just what is happening here!” demanded Adam Silversmith, the aging man frowned at the two children, watching them still when they heard his ominous voice.

“Grandad! ”exclaimed Arian, nervously jumping off of Gyllene and to her feet. Her clothes were ruffled and there was blood near her eye and lip.

“Elder Silversmith,” said Gyllene, sitting up then fumbling to stand up. His clothes were torn and his chin slightly bruised.

“What is happening here?” screamed Claudine Goldsmith, rushing to her son. “Arian Silversmith, you brute! Look what you did to my beautiful son! Have you no manners?”

Arian did not say anything, she gritted her teeth and fixed her gaze to the ground.

“What happened here, Gyllene?” asked Claudine, fussing over the bruise on her son’s face. “Who started this?”

“It’s him!” Arian and Gyllene responded at the same time, pointing at one another.

“You brat, Arian! You started this didn’t you?” accused Claudine. “Just like your father and mother!”

“Mrs Claudine Goldsmith, could you kindly not accuse my grandson of such violent acts,” said Adam Goldsmith, rather calmly. “I understand you are upset but my grandson has more injuries than your son. Let us part ways with dignity instead of more vulgar acts by officially posting the medical fees at a later time to the relevant family. I assure you that Arian will be dealt with at home and I am sure you will discipline your son in a similar manner.”

Claudine Goldsmith hissed. “I am always dignified! I don’t need a Silversmith to give me advice on discipline!” exclaimed Claudine, lifting her shoulders condescendingly. “Come along Gyllene, let’s be on our way.”