Chapter 711: Grumpy Blacksmith
The Asgardian sky was covered in thick clouds, but an orange light escaped through the gaps, reflecting on the damp stone streets. The sll of iron, coal, and oil hung in the air—a scent that, for many, was unpleasant, but for Strax, it sounded almost nostalgic.
He walked unhurriedly, hands in his pockets, his black cloak swaying gently in the wind. The people greeted him as he passed—so with respect, others with curiosity, and a few with a strange kind of silent reverence. Asgard was reborn, and even though many still rembered the chaos he had caused, no one could deny that under his command the city prospered like never before.
“Funny,” he murmured to himself, with a half-smile. “I destroyed half of this, and now I’m the man who makes everything flourish.”
The irony amused him.
The path led him to one of the oldest parts of the city—the old artisans’ district. There, among the renovated houses and new establishnts, a building marked by ti still stood: Kaelen’s forge.
Before, that place was a jumble of twisted iron and smoke. Now, it glead. A new sign proudly displayed the old blacksmith’s na, and the constant sound of hamrs echoed like a rhythmic symphony. There were apprentices, assistants, and even a cart parked outside, full of new swords.
Strax smiled, shaking his head.
“Who would have thought, Kaelen… even you ended up becoming a legend.”
As he crossed the stone archway that marked the entrance, he was greeted by a nervous-looking young man, covered in soot up to his eyebrows. He carried a clipboard and wore a large apron, trying to look more important than he really was.
“Ah! Lord Strax!”—the young man almost stumbled over his own words, bowing awkwardly. — “It’s an honor, a great honor! I… I’m Deren, apprentice of Master Kaelen!”
Strax raised an eyebrow, amused by the young man’s nervousness.
“Apprentice, are you?”
“Yes, sir! And… I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you!”
“For what?”
Deren adjusted the clipboard against his chest, trying to hide the trembling in his hands. “Well, since you took command… Asgard has changed. The forge has received more orders than in the master’s entire life! I… I can now support my family. My children eat well, my wife can take care of the house… and, well, I owe it to you.”
Strax was silent for a mont. It was rare to hear words like those—and even rarer to allow himself to feel anything about them. But there was a sincerity in the boy that made him relax a little.
He gave a slight smile. “I didn’t do anything special, boy. The world just finally learned to work instead of killing each other.”
“Even so…” Deren lowered his head, moved. “Thank you, sir.”
Strax simply nodded, looking away. “Is Kaelen in there?”
“Yes, sir, but… I don’t think it’s a good ti.”
“Why?”
The young man hesitated, swallowing hard. “He… he’s in a bad mood. A very bad mood. He said that if you showed up, he would—”
“Curse until hell begs for a truce?” Strax finished, with a small smile. “Yes, that sounds like Kaelen.”
“I really think it’s better if you co back later, he’s—”
But Strax had already passed him, completely ignoring the rest of the sentence.
“Sir! Wait, please! The master said no one should interrupt—!”
The echo of the assistant’s words was lost in the noise of the forge. The heat inside was intense, the air vibrated with the sound of hamring, and sparks danced like stars trapped on the ground. The sll of hot tal and burning charcoal filled the air, and Strax took a deep breath, as if savoring an old mory.
In the back, with his back to the entrance, was him.
Kaelen.
The sa grumpy old man as always, now with more gray hair and less patience. Sweaty, furious, and hamring a glowing blade with such force that it seed he was trying to kill it.
“Damn that demon-headed bastard…!” he roared between hamr blows. “Work with honor, he said! Help rebuild, he said! Now I barely have ti to pee in peace! If he shows up here, I swear I’ll shove this new sword up his—”
“Hi, Kaelen.”
The old man stopped. The hamr hung in the air for a second, before falling onto the anvil with a deafening clang.
Slowly, he turned around.
Strax was there, standing with the sa lazy smile as always.
Kaelen took a deep breath, his face red and covered in sweat. “Of course… of course! I complain about him and he appears out of nowhere, like a damn plague!”
Strax laughed, taking a few steps forward. “I missed you too, old man.”
“Missed , huh? Well, keep your longing and shove it up your—”
“Kaelen.”
Strax’s tone changed. Still light, but with that unmistakable authority that made even the walls straighten up.
The old man snorted, grabbing a cloth and wiping the sweat from his face. “Alright, alright… what do you want now? More swords? Armor? A golden throne? Or did you just co to annoy ?”
“I just ca to see how the best blacksmith in the North is doing,” Strax said, looking around. “And, apparently, he’s doing very well. Employees, apprentices, mass production… I’m starting to think I gave you too much work.”
Kaelen grumbled, but a glint of pride escaped the corner of his mouth. “Too much work? Work is what keeps alive, boy. But don’t co here playing the benefactor. Since you set foot in Asgard, half my days are spent hamring, and the other half listening to idiots asking for ‘sothing worthy of Strax’. Do you know what that ans for an old blacksmith like ?”
Strax pretended to think. “Fa?”
“Back pain!”
Strax laughed, loud and genuine, the sound echoing through the space filled with heat and sparks.
“You never change, old man.”
“And neither do you,” Kaelen retorted, picking up the hamr again. “You still find humor in everything you destroy. Now tell what you ca here for before I stick this sword in the ground and say it was an accident.”
Strax crossed his arms, still smiling. “Actually, I just wanted to see you working. Sotis I forget how good it is to see sothing being created… and not destroyed.”
Kaelen looked at him… “What do you want now, you bastard?”
Strax spoke, smiling…
Kaelen stopped what he was doing, the hamr still raised in the air, while watching Strax out of the corner of his eye—suspiciously, like soone looking at a wolf about to pounce on its prey.
“You… are going to what?” He asked slowly, dropping the hamr onto the anvil with a dull clang. “Tell I heard wrong, boy. Are you going to stick your head into Cristhalis’s frozen hell? Of your own free will?”
Strax rely shrugged, with that sa provocative smile. “Yeah, looks like it. The Ice Monarch herself wants to et . And, you know… when a lady calls, it’s impolite to refuse.”
Kaelen snorted loudly, like a bull. “Lady? That woman is less ‘lady’ and more living curse! They say her blood is cold enough to freeze a dragon’s heart, and you’re going there… to visit?”
Strax let out a short laugh. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, old man. I’m just going for a stroll. Maybe have so iced tea.”
“Iced tea, he says…” Kaelen ran a hand over his face, indignant. “Boy, the last idiot who tried to get near Cristhalis ca back with fingers looking like glass splinters! And you want to go because the Monarch ‘seems interested’? Interested in impaling you, maybe!”
Strax took a few steps forward, stopping beside the anvil. The heat of the forge made the sweat glisten on his skin, and the contrast with the cold he ntioned made everything even more ironic.
“Kaelen, I’ve been through worse places. And if she really wants to kill , well… she’ll need more than a frosty stare to do it.”
The blacksmith stared at him, narrowing his eyes. He knew that tone—the sa one Strax always used whenever he had already decided sothing and nobody in the world could make him change his mind.
“You’re a complete lunatic, Strax. That’s all I have to say.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Kaelen snorted again, muttering sothing unintelligible as he picked up the hamr again. “And why the hell did you co here then? Don’t tell you want an enchanted sword that doesn’t freeze, or armor that warms your backside when the cold hits.”
Strax chuckled, crossing his arms. “Actually, I ca to see if you needed anything. I’m going to be passing through her domains, so I thought I might be able to bring you so rare materials. Or so ore that only exists under the ice.”
Kaelen stopped. For a mont, he looked surprised—then he faked a cough to cover it up. “Hmph. Tsk. If anyone else said that, I’d call them crazy. But you… well, you have the terrible habit of actually coming back alive from these idiotic trips.”
Strax raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a complint.”
“It wasn’t ant to be.”
Kaelen put the hamr down again, thoughtfully. He walked to a shelf, rummaging through so maps and notebooks full of scribbles. When he returned, he was holding a small tal plate covered in precisely carved runes.
“If you’re really going there, then do this.” He handed the plate to Strax. “If you find any ore called Ice Heart, bring back as much as you can. It’s incredibly rare—they say it only appears in the caves near the Monarch’s castle. It’s used to forge blades that never lose their edge, even after centuries. I’ve tried to get so before, but my contacts ca back with frozen fingers. Or without fingers.”
Strax examined the artifact, turning it between his fingers. The runes shimred slightly in the light of the forge.
“Ice Heart…” he murmured. “Sounds like sothing that suits .”
“It suits a coffin, that’s what,” Kaelen retorted. “But if you bring it, I promise I’ll make a sword worthy of a legend. And maybe I’ll even give you a discount, just for a change.”
“A discount from you? Now that would be a miracle.”
Kaelen grunted, feigning annoyance. “Go to hell.”
“I must admit, that’s a place I’d like to visit.” Strax said, smiling.
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