Chapter 21: The Blacksmith
There was a certain level of roughness Irene had gotten used to having looked upon knights her entire life. In fairytales, they were always handsome, flawless men but in reality, the men were rough around the edges and marred with scars. Even her beast of a father came home with scratches and bruises. Her mother often fussed about it—a reality she understood well.
However, nothing could have prepared her for the scarred appearance of the blacksmith they were set to meet that day.
As he stepped out of his shop to meet the knights, his marred face and arms were on display because the sleeves of his shirt had been torn off. Over the entire outfit was a thick leather apron. Irene forced herself not to stare.
One of his eyes was completely scarred over and his lip had been split and badly healed another time.
His dark brown hair was tied back in a rough bun at the base of his neck and it was enough to show off the lump of an ear he had left.
Regardless, Sir Gunnar greeted the man with an embrace and they spoke loudly and friendly with one another.
"We've brought you a bit more business, Samson," Gunnar greeted the man warmly. "I hope that your queue isn't too terribly long."
The man's scar went down his cheek and into his beard, but it was still a very full beard and he smoothed his hand over it thoughtfully.
"I have plenty of apprentices working on immediate orders," he muttered. "I suppose the Knights of Tenetium should be the highest priority." With a nod, the older man finally said, "I will work on them myself."
Gunnar clasped the man's shoulder and the apprentices were able to see him in a more lighthearted mood than usual. It made him seem more youthful to behave less dutifully.
As the older men were admired, Gunnar then turned to Irene.