Chapter 1
The heavy rain that raged all night ceased at dawn. Riftan washed his face with the rainwater from the trough and blinked his stiff eyes. Last night was a nightmare as the hut creaked and groaned all-night-long against the violent wind that blew like a flying blade.
He looked up at the bright sky that had no trace of last night's savage storm and wiped the water dripping from his face with his ragged sleeves.
Even though his stepfather has been repairing their house since spring, the hut is ramshackle; when the rainy season comes, turbulence is inevitable. They may need to repair it with their hands again before the rest of the season comes.
Riftan's eyebrows furrowed as he thought of how much money he must earn to buy as much wood needed to fix it. At that moment, a disconcerting voice screamed from behind him.
"There's tons of work to do, what are you standing around there for?!"
He gazed at the forge as the sound of hammers against steel rang loudly. Through the wide-open door, he saw a swarthy red face. If the man was only a short distance away, he would've run to punch Riftan in the head. He hurriedly lifted the sack lying next to him.
"...I was just about to go."
Riftan carried the sack on his shoulders that weigh about as heavy as him and strode forward. The blacksmith shot him a hateful glance and went into the forge ahead of him. He followed him quietly, gazing at the huge fortress that towered over the lush forest.
It has been several months since he started as an apprentice in Croiso Castle's smithy, but his mind was never where he wanted it to be. Rather than being in the smithy, he was better off removing dung from the horse stables like he used to. Although he was constantly busy working in the stables, the amount of work he had to do in the smithy was beyond imaginable.
Every dawn, he had to dig for piles of firewood, burn charcoal in a kiln, and hammer iron ore red until his shoulders feel like splitting. After that, he must tend constantly to the fire in the furnace, so that the flames would soar.
During the first few weeks, he suffered from blisters that grew on his palms and burns in several parts of his body that sometimes he had thought of beating his stepfather who forced him to be in such awful place. However, after seeing the man's blunt face, the resentment that swelled up to his neck disappeared like his feelings were all a lie.
As Riftan recalled the image of his stepfather who filled his stomach with nothing but thin, cold stew, he slammed the sack roughly. The words of his stepfather the day he dragged him to this place rang in his ears.
"A peasant farmer like me lives in destitute all his life until the day he dies. At least a blacksmith lives a better life."
His stepfather who uttered those words dug up a dirt in their hut's backyard and pulled out a black, rotten leather pouch. Inside it was the dowry he received when he married Riftan's biological mother.
Fourteen Dirhams. His stepfather offered six of them to the swine-like blacksmith and pleaded with a bow to mentor Riftan. Remembering how ridiculous it was, Riftan spat out profanity from his mouth.
If I had that amount of money, I would have used it to build a new house...Why would he care for a stranger's bastard who didn't share a single drop of blood with him.
"Hey! Greenhorn! Bring more charcoal!"
Riftan woke up from his thoughts at the sound of the loud shout. He ran with a barrow filled with crushed charcoal and poured it to the furnace, then pushed the bellows as hard as he could, making a golden flame soar to the ceiling. From then on, he didn't have time to be lost in thought.
