Ever since I came to the big city, I was getting increasingly frustrated at how people deal with metal these days. It used to be an art, the way blacksmiths would work with steel. They’d spend hours on a single sword, regardless of who they were making it for. It was delicate and precise, and you could see the care put into each project. But today I realised something: the old way is a total waste of time.
These days, you can just call up Melbourne’s best steel fabricators and it’ll be done in less than half the time. Metalwork used to take hours and hours just for something small. In the modern era, we don’t have time for that. Now you can go to a department store and buy a painting, without having to wait for it or make it yourself. It’s great!
I think I was just so upset about the issue because I’m from a rural town where we pretend to be living in the dark ages. Sure, it has its ups and downs. Black Death week is never fun, and the orphans living on the street sure do look hungry. You’ve got to work a day just to buy a loaf of mouldy bread, and the local lord sends his knights through the town every other day just to collect his taxes. There, I’m the blacksmith. People don’t go to a shop in Melbourne that sells steel supplies. No, they come straight to me, and I spend weeks slaving away in the forge for no reason.
I sell horse hooves, steel swords, steel axes, steel hammers. Yeah, it’s mostly weapons, which are picked up by the lord’s knights and then used on the townsfolk, but they pay good money for them. I wish I could go back, but there was this misunderstanding with the regular townspeople. They weren’t happy that I was arming the knights, and drove me out of town. I don’t think it’s safe for me there anymore.