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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/WaveOfWire on 2024-10-31 13:32:12+00:00.

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Clashes of metal rang throughout the smithy. Each strike of the hammer shaped or pushed material to where he wanted it to be, his mana travelling through the thin channels etched into his instruments. It kept the high-quality iron hot for much longer than it would be otherwise. Sparks kicked up, the glowing flecks being launched into the air from the surrounding impacts.

Blacksmithing was cathartic for Makis—always had been. Something about channelling the Flame burning under his scales, the heat flowing into his craft, and how he forced change upon what was normally so unyielding felt right. It was rare for him to work on anything more than standard metals nowadays, yet he found himself hammering into some of the tougher stock he had on hand. The absence of many common impurities made the fourth-grade ingot especially resistant to his efforts, but that was the reason he requested Earth-infused iron from Trent to begin with. Third grade or better would’ve put up more of a fight, and the result would’ve been stronger for it, but making anything out of the stuff would require far more mana.

The blacksmith lifted the shovel head he was working on, drawing the residual Flame from the material to rapidly cool it down. Bright orange metal shifted to a deep red, then to dark grey until he got around to polishing. There was still work to be done before he got around to that, though.

He laid the project alongside the other mostly finished tool replacements and closed off the forge, feeling the temperature in the smithy start to drop. The mana lingering in the air was drawn in to help the process along. Any excess was burned off by a brief but potent fire on his fingertips—a trick he tried not to use around others too often. He let his gaze sweep over the equipment to make sure everything was where it needed to be for when he picked the project back up, but nothing seemed too out of place. That’s not to say it looked organized by any means, but he wouldn’t be blindly groping around at least.

A reluctant sigh disguised itself as a heavy exhalation through his snout. He might’ve been getting a little too used to having the girl around to clean up after him. She did a good job of it, honestly. Everything had a place near other items like it, and nothing was shagged off behind a table because it got tossed haphazardly. The slight mess made him feel even guiltier for taking her to do those deliveries—more so now, considering the thought that reminded him was about how convenient she was.

Makis shook his head, trying not to dwell on things he couldn’t change. He had made assumptions and subsequently got bitten in the arse for it. Nothing new about that, though he didn’t catch himself thinking about his regular screw-ups so relentlessly either. He supposed he deserved it. The girl had come out of the whole disaster far worse than he did. Regardless, he had other things to occupy his time, like the one part of his recent routine that was still underway despite everything.

“Nuttin’?” Makis asked dryly, abandoning the benches by the forge to head towards the red-eyed gaze staring at something on the ground.

Hoppit blinked, breaking concentration to look over at the blacksmith. The flattened ears said enough about any prospective progress.

“S’alright,” he sighed out, returning to his stool next to the rabbit and plucking up a bit of copper to fiddle with. “Ain’t no point’n rushin’ it. Not like I’m pressurin’ ya ta do more than ya are.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Having a critter like Hoppit to help out at the smithy was an idea that he had kicked around, but bringing that up might just screw with whatever immeasurable headway was being made. It was a decent enough plan if the ferrorabbit had any control over his affinity, but the determined little shit still hadn’t shown much progress in that regard, nor had he shown signs of an awakening in the first place. Well, he did, but the red-scaled kobold still wasn’t sure what to make of the fleeting display.

It was only a fraction of a second, but the critter had been on the cusp of truly grasping his affinity when his hind foot slammed into the dirt a few days ago. The subtle tremor in the ground had set the blacksmith on edge, though nothing came of it, thankfully. Especially so, if Hoppit’s overall mana pool was as large as Makis suspected it might be. There were worse potential outcomes than a tantrum being a little loud—far worse, seeing as the ferrorabbit had come charging out of the grass and saw the girl he smothered all passed out and cut to high hells. It was fortunate that Hoppit didn’t grip his Element at full force right then and there.

Regardless of how badly someone might want to finally use their affinity, there was a reason elderly kobold bothered with the tedious process of guiding his rabbits through a series of progressively more difficult tasks. Anger or distress was a potent method for brute-forcing an awakening, but that also came with a few risks—the least of which being an uncontrolled discharge of mana. That could be problematic, depending on what the person was trying to do at the moment. Apparently, Hoppit only wanted to communicate how ticked off he was at seeing his owner in such a state, which was better than if he attempted anything in particular, so the Thump just came out as a more potent version of the base ability. If something else had crossed his mind instead, the girl would’ve been in trouble as much as anyone. Makis had seen what the little bastards could do when they were really trying to hurt someone.

Hells, it was half the reason he raised them. Having a few dozen sentries to skewer predatory wildlife made leaving his sons and daughters to wander around the property unattended much less stressful.

Unfortunately, his wry smirk at the memory faded as his mind went back to the bundle of trouble in question. Instead of working to manipulate soil or minerals, his most recent ‘student’ had mostly ignored the pan of dirt and metals in front of him, choosing to all but scowl at a hunk of rust that had fallen off a workbench at some point. Whenever he wasn’t at that, he was watching the elder kobold with unerring dedication, like there was a secret to hammering hot iron that would somehow help him push mud around. It’d be unsettling if Makis hadn’t raised dozens of the critters over as many years. More than a few of them found blacksmith work interesting, and some of those ended up regularly helping around the forge when they felt like it or if enough treats were involved. That said, he didn’t quite get the impression that Hoppit was watching out of interest, so much as he was observing something specific. The smith couldn’t put a claw on why it came off that way, though. Not that mulling it over did any good.

It was just the two of them in the workshop today—same as yesterday and the day before. The girl hadn’t left the shed since he dropped her off the other evening, but the rabbit continued to show up right on time, acting like it was perfectly normal to arrive unescorted and covered in dirt like he’d just upended the entire forest. Makis wanted to head out and make sure nothing had happened to his helper, but Hoppit got testy when he tried to make his way there, which told him that the girl was at least doing okay. As stubborn as ferrorabbits might be, they had enough sense to grab help if it was needed, so he tried to settle his nerves by reassuring himself that he’d have an Earth-aligned racket on his hands if something wasn’t right. Hopefully, anyway.

Time passed quietly as he turned scraps into various crude artworks, his company adamantly trying to melt old iron with a stern gaze alone. He supposed he’d have to step in at some point; there was only so long he could reasonably let Hoppit discover the ‘wonders’ of rust. Makis opened his mouth, about to go over another lesson to see how well his student followed along, but when he looked down at the critter, all he saw was two red balls of curiosity staring a hole through the copper in his hand. A pair of silvery ears perked up before the smith could question anything, and Hoppit started focusing on the pan with renewed interest.

He could only settle back into his seat and keep an eye out for any potential breakthroughs. His fingers went back to idly moulding copper into random shapes as he tried not to worry too much about the fragile thing hiding away in the garden shed.

Flame moved from his chest, through his arms, past his fingers, then into the orange metal as he distracted himself from the results of his mistake. The mana was siphoned out to set the shape before it was pushed back in for the next adjustment. He felt the changes happen to the material, the rudimentary domain bending what it encompassed to his will. It was an advanced technique, yet one he drilled regularly. Most of his kids couldn’t quite get a handle on it through his explanations, but he figured it might’ve been because none of them had a Flame alignment like he did. Still, he remembered their frustrated expressions as they tried to copy him with their weak affinities, then their offe…

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