The blacksmith dropped the newly crafted sword on the table and led them out of the forge and into the shop part of his building, the place where he displayed weapons for sale.
"Your sword was really something. I had to max out the temperature of the furnace just to melt it. And to shape it? Nearly broke all my fingers..." The blacksmith had a smile on his face as he spoke, his pride in his work clear.
After dealing with Darell, Stark had taken his family heirloom, the swallow tail, along with him.
The weapon was too precious to leave to waste. Even with money, getting something of its quality would be too difficult, yet he could not just carry the swords of a dead lord around, so he visited a blacksmith to get it reforged.
There was just one problem, each blacksmith ended up smashing their anvil when trying to work on the weapon.
Only one man decided to take on the challenge after that.
