Egbert stood inside the massive building, wiping the dark sweat from his forehead with a rough piece of cloth.
Egbert was now officially serving Rorik the blacksmith.
"Egbert! Hit this metal right now!" Rorik shouted, "If you do not hit it while it is hot, the iron will become weak, and a weak sword brings zero honor in a war!"
Egbert quickly grabbed his own smaller iron hammer from the table and began hitting the glowing metal exactly where Rorik pointed.
Egbert hit the metal five times, breathing heavily. He was a smart young man, but he did not possess the strength of a veteran blacksmith.
"Boy, your arms are as thin as dry twigs!" Rorik laughed a booming sound from his chest.
"I have seen sick sheep with more muscle than you! How do you expect to forge a legendary sword if you cannot even lift the hammer?!"
Egbert stopped hitting the metal and leaned against the bench, smiling a very cheeky smile.
He knew that Rorik liked him, so he felt completely comfortable.
