Chapter 14: The Orc Blacksmith
Compared to the other buildings in the center of the tribe, the blacksmith was not in an open area. Instead, we ventured into small roads that eventually led us to a small alley. The shadows cast by the tall buildings caused the alleyway to be dimly lit. This part of town had an ominous feeling. The orcs around here also did not look like the kind that you wanted to associate with. At the end of this long alley was a small shack. The building was constructed out of rotten wooden planks that were falling apart. The pungent smell shot straight at us.
"Is this a blacksmith or a toilet?" I asked.
"Just trust me."
Quincy twisted the rusted metal handle and pushed. The door swiveled with a creaking sound. A warm, almost familiar heat engulfed me. I had experienced this everyday since my birth; it was a blacksmith's furnace. The flame brightened the whole room. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons. We were facing the back of an elderly orc who was sat in front of the furnace.
"Thomas, Its Quincy."
"I know it's you. No one else is as ill-mannered as you. You don't even knock before entering."
The blacksmith stood up and turned around. The orc approached us with an imposing presence. His gaze shifted from Quincy to me. He examined my face for a while before speaking.
"You look familiar."
"You have seen humans before?" Quincy asked.
"Of course I have you idiot."
"Must be because you are old and decrepit," Quincy replied.
"What's your full name boy."
"It's Luke Dravan," I said.
A soft smile appeared on his and his attitude towards me shifted. He seemed more warm.
"I see now. That's why you looked familiar. You're almost a carbon copy of your father," Thomas said.
"Y-You know my father?" I asked in astonishment.
"Of course. I know him very well," he said with a smile.
"HOW?" I yelled.
"That's a story for another time," Thomas replied.
I urged him to give me an answer but he did not budge. His mind was set on not giving me any more information. First the chieftain's reaction and now the blacksmith, they definitely know something important that could be related to my father's death.
"How is he holding up?" the blacksmith asked.
"My father is dead. He has been murdered," I replied with a serious face.
I was desperately trying to maintain my composure. Thomas on the other hand did not. His face immediately crumpled and he closed his eyes. It looked like he was fighting tears.
"Your father and I have been good friends for decades. His death will leave a hole in my heart. I am sorry for your loss."
The room fell silent. Not even Quincy spoke and instead wore a serious face. Thomas then put on a forced smile before speaking.
"Now then, how may I help you guys."
"Luke is looking for a weapon," Quincy said.
"My weapons are lacking, but I have just the thing for you."
"Can't he choose?" Quincy asked.
"No, just trust me on this one," Thomas replied.
The orc went into another room and rummaged through hundreds of weapons. A series of clangs echoed in the shack as he looked for something specific.
"Ah I found it!" he yelled.
When he came out of the room, his hands grasped a polished wooden box. The surface had a layer of dust, showing its age. Thomas wiped the dust off with a quick swipe of his hand. He unlocked the latch and lifted the top. Red velour surrounded the weapon. The sword was emitting a red aura and appeared almost demonic. The hilt was wrapped in tanned leather. The blade was polished and had a perfect edge. There were red stones encrusted in the hilt of the sword. This looked even better than the weapons my dad used to make.
"The sword's name is Diablo. You are its first owner, so take good care of it and maintain your father's legacy. When you're ready, I'll tell you something else," he said as he handed the blade to me.
I held the sword with my hand and could see my own reflection.
"Thank you very much," I said.
"It's fine, I'm just happy to see his face in yours."
After we left the blacksmith, my heart was heavy and I was melancholic. I was just bombarded with a ton of new information and I did not know how to deal with that. My dad knew some orcs and even befriended them. How crazy was that. All I knew about him was that he liked to make weapons. I had never inquired about his past, yet here I was, trying to piece it back. The palm of my hand was sweating profusely and my breaths were erratic. Quincy patted my back.
"It will be fine. You will figure everything out. We will also help you."
"I know you will. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."
Back at the estate, we explained to Grald what the blacksmith had said and he was even more perplexed.
"I had also noticed the chieftain acting weird when you mentioned your name, but I have no information about your father," Grald said.
"I can try to question him, but I am not sure that he will answer me," he added.
"For now let's plan your training. In addition to hand-to-hand combat, we will include sword training. As from tomorrow, Jasper will supervise you as I have to take care of urgent matters.
Even when I entered my room, my mind was still heavy. I was thinking about my family, even more than before. I was now paying attention to every single detail of the past.
"Stop thinking about such things now."
"Drago, stop interrupting me. I'm not in the mood."
"Well I was going to teach you how to get stronger, but I guess that you're too busy," Drago replied.
"No wait," I yelled.
"I'm ready," I said with a determined face.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone