The might of the City

Not far along the road, a wrought iron sign hung in the avenue, reading "The Smith's Arcades." The façade facing the avenue opened into an alleyway alongside the arcades. Rows of brick pillars supported a series of gabled wooden roofs. The first aisle was empty, covered by a stone floor. The second aisle was used for workspace, with rows of workbenches, forges, anvils, and multiple smiths working diligently. Between the two wide aisles, there was a narrow one that was filled with trusses carrying a windpipe, and water channel on top. Fionrah guessed that they must be filled with rainwater. It looked similar to the channels she had seen in Arneravine, which powered the waterwheels of the artisan workshops.

"Fionrah also heard the sound of water. In the middle of the arcades, there was an open aisle allowing sunlight to pour into the space. Two waterwheels stood there, one smaller one spinning quickly and a larger one turning more lazily. The small one was running a transmission, driving a shaft as thick as a tree trunk and lifting rows of trip hammers that happily clanged. The largest bellows she had ever seen gently seesawed with the turn of the large waterwheel. One bellow seemed to be made from the leather of an entire cow. Fionrah casually walked in the first aisle running perpendicular to the aisle full of machinery, basking in the sensational noise. Leaning on the railing, she looked down the funnel into the maw of the breastshot wheel, which greedily swallowed up the water from a stream in an endless inhalation."

"Hey there, huntsman, can I help you?" Turning her head to the booming voice, she saw a huge man in a thick leather apron, covering his chest to the tips of his heavy work boots. Looking from his blue eyes over his glistening bear arms to the gleaming scythe blades he was carrying in his hand. "Eh?" Glancing over her shoulder for a huntsman, huntsman it is then. Shifting her gaze back to the handsome face, straining her voice over the raucous, "Very fine machinery you have here, good sir," those arms are something she thought. Sensing the pungent but intriguing male smell wafting towards her, she feigned interest in the blades, then the wheels.

"Finest work, those are. I am proud to work here. We have lads from Arneravine come down here for improvements, got a newfangled spring hammer, quickest blows I have ever seen, a bit uncanny if you know what I mean." Fionrah nodded emphatically at the man. "Can I interest you in some arrowheads? You don't need a scythe, do you?" Fionrah shook her head softly. "I am good, new to the city, good day sir," clapping her hand on his shoulder. "Same to you then, good sir."

Passing the biggest trip hammers she has seen, in one aisle. The next aisles had machines that connected to a line shaft. One was very familiar, the bow spring hammer she had known from Arneravine.

Turning, she spotted a propped-up large slate with scribbled "hiring journeymen" on it standing towards the street. In the aisle there was a small rounded bearded man standing at a workbench, running a file over a sword blade. Fionrah stepped nearer. "Good day lad, d'ye need somethin'? "Who's hiring?" "Well that would be me" "Nice to meet you. My name is Fionrah" "Ah, you looking for work now, had you for a huntsman, what's with the hair, you look like a girl or one of those good-for-nothing nobbs." Fionrah laughed. "I am a woman, yes, and a journeyman blacksmith." "You've got to be kidding me. Darned thing I ever heard. You're pulling my leg." "We can do a trial" "Blight me! Got to see that then. How about you make me some nails then. Hahaha."

Fionrah laid off her belongings, walked around the workplace, spotted the hardie's, the nail headers, a leather apron. The bearded man was laughing even harder. She gestured to the apron. "Knock yourself out haha..." Fionrah put on the apron, set a hardie in the anvil, and placed a nail header next to it. "Almost fooled me there," the bearded man said, going into the next laughing fit, trying to wipe a tear from his cheek with his forearm.

Fionrah chose a billet from the shelf. "No, no there's already one waiting for ya here," the man was pulling a handle on the forge making the fire roar. Fionrah, tong in hand, went over to have a look. There was a sword billet in the forge starting to glow orange. This is going to be fun, she thought, grabbing the billet, notching it a bit forward, tapping the handle back a bit to keep it from melting. "Oh boy, whoever is pulling this trick went to great lengths to set me up. Hahaha. I'm not going to fall for this. Hihihi." Fionrah adjusted the billet once more, it started to have a nice yellow color. "Ok, Ok enough of the fun who sent you anyway. Was it Eddy?" Fionrah fondled wax pieces into her ears. "Come on," Fionrah cried, "Where's your sense of adventure?" "Sure ain't need that around here" "Hot billet coming through," bellowed Fionrah triumphantly, walking swiftly right past the anvil over to the spring hammer.

Treading on the clutch lever in one elegant move, she sent the machine into a blurry motion. "Bam bam bam bam," it went, sparks flying, as Fionrah guided the sword billet under the machine. She swiftly cut the billet in half with a hardie tool from the neatly assorted tools belonging to the hammer. "Hey, where are you going?" Half of the gleaming hot billet landed next to the bearded man's feet as he came hurrying over. He picked up the billet with his tongs and said, "That was a perfectly fine sword billet, you know." Fionrah looked at the man and now it was her time to laugh. "Hey, watch what you're doing!" Fionrah unlatched the clutch. The machine started winding down. Fionrah waved an impossibly long square rod of amber-glowing steel in front of the bearded man. "Damn, if I hadn't seen that with my own eyes..." the billet dropped to the floor again. Fionrah walked back to the forge and stuck the end of the rod back into the gleaming coals. The bearded man followed her, rubbing his head. "Blight me, I think I got kicked by a horse." "I think we will get some perfectly nice nails out of that rod." "If I didn't see it with my own eyes, uncanny witchcraft." Fionrah folded her arms defiantly, shook her head. "Look here, good sir, honest work, that's all," adjusting the rod. The bearded man just stood there.

Fionrah lifted the rod out of the fire and tapered it on the anvil, then on the hardie, stuck it in the nail header, twisted it off, and niftily banged a head on it. Tapping on the anvil, a finished nail fell out of the tool. "Blight me," the bearded man called again. A nice smell tingled in Fionrah's nose again. "What's going on here? Did the huntsman just make a nail?" "Eddy, he's a she!" "Duncan, have you been drinking?" "Fionrah, nice to meet you, Eddy. I am of the female persuasion." Fionrah hammered out another nail. "As you can see, a journeyman blacksmith." "Eddy, you should have seen it, drew out a yard of nail rod in one go, ruined a perfect sword billet." "Sorry, master, you wanted nails. Such a long and fat rod wouldn't have fit in that small hole." Eddy was laughing hysterically. "Duncan, she's a keeper, what else can she do? We have some suits of armor to make, remember?" "Ok, ok, go see the guild's scribe."

Fionrah got a street and a name for finding a shelter to sleep, she was quite pleased she had a sturdy door with a lock, decent tavern, well in the courtyard, a privy nearby.

The days whent by and started early, standing at the forge, the trip hammer happily bouncing of the red hot metal slowly drawing out one of a dozen armaments. Once in a while a cavalier would come by to have hes suit of armor fitted.

Fionrah enjoyed city life, the people, the noise, and the bustling. She was especially fascinated by the modifications made to the city by the water artisans of Arneravine, who ingeniously repurposed the city's waterways.

Adjacent to the Smith's Arcades lay a large yard. On the far side of the yard, the River Mauliane flowed past a harbor where men offloaded barges of charcoal and iron ore during the day. Situated in the middle of the yard was a half-buried soapstone puddle furnace. It had been there for 5 years now, its fire ever burning, its coal constantly stocked, its rods consistently churned by water power. This churning made the iron less brittle. The finest swords were produced by forging together long and short-churned iron—a trade secret known as pattern welding.

The furnace had been constructed by the dwarfs in Dvergaland and shipped down the River Ringowyn, then piece by piece back up the River Mauliane using horses, pulleys, and anchors in a way no one had ever witnessed before. The puddle furnace was flanked by two blast furnaces supplying it with molten iron. While one of the furnaces was burning, the other was being rebuilt and filled with the next batch of ore and charcoal.

The furnaces were operated with two sets of water wheels, providing a constant stream of fresh air and power to churn the rods and operate the chain conveyor through the ash pit. It was a marvel of Arneravine water artisanship and dwarfish furnace knowledge.

All water wheels were run by streams provided by the River Ansane, which had a system of locks for overcoming the whitewaters leading down into the city. The locks were put in place long before the alliance with Arneland. Through these locks, barges of charcoal were shipped from the outskirts, while the ore from Northgarth's mines made its way down the River Mauliane.

At the harbor on the backside of the furnace yard, coal and ore barges were unloaded and stored in mounds before they would be used to load one of the furnaces or stoked into the soapstone chutes that fed the churning oven.

Fionrah used the last light of the day to work on her scale mail, using offcuts from the armaments to punch scales and draw out wire. Having to pay for the metal out of her wages, she didn't have much left to afford fancy food, especially since there were no forests nearby for the occasional rabbit or fox. Thankfully, she had already completed the padding for her scale mail before she left Cattlemarked, wearing it under her tunic for the journey.

The next morning, she spent working on a sword for His Eminence Denzin de Ligano, one of the Brothers of the Cardinal and Archbishop of the great Cathedral of Ligano.