The lost prince.

Blacksmith.

The fire burns in his face, sissling of water on metal. The wind twirling in big gusts outside of the little home, stood in the far end of the village. Snow covering every inch of the surface in the little town. Coldness settling into everyone's bones, leaving nothing but clattering teeth and pink skin as they walk over the cold cobblestone road.

Inside one of the homes, a fire burning in the workshop of the blacksmith. The water sissling as the hot metal in the shape of a sword gets dipped into the almost freezing bucket of water, merely metres away from the fire. Which the man had used to heat up the blade and slam his hammer upon the anvil metres away from it.

The freezing cold, slowly creeping in his bones as he works in nothing but a thin shirt and some leather pants. The man not caring about the cold that he is standing in, he had never cared about the winter or the summer. Despite feeling the cold and slightly shivering from it, he doesn't give anyone that is standing at the ordering window the slightest idea that he is cold, he has more important things to do than care about the temperature.

"Max!" he looks up at his mother who appears in the door leading up to their living quarters upstairs. "put your bloody jacket on! I'm not saying this again, you stubborn mule." His mother grumbles before heading back up the stairs.

Max rolls his eyes before listening to his mother, the woman had always been right about anything that she had said to him ever, the cold would always come to bite him back in the arse. Which would be a bad thing to be as he is the source of income for the family. He is the only one providing for the money as his sister and mother are women and don't get easily a job in this village. Apart from being able to work on the many animal farms just outside of the village. And since this pays enough for them all, they don't need to.

He slips on the woollen sweater his sister had made for him three winters ago. It had been to big when she had made it for Max but later on he had grown into it, with the tinkering on swords, axes and other combat weapons like armour, he gained a heavy build that made him look bulkier and scary to most of the villagers. His blond hair was short on the sides and long on the front, covering his eyes if he didn't push it away, getting it greasy from blacksmithing, which made it stand up in the air.

From blacksmithing, his hands would turn almost as black as the night. Sweat would break out on his forehead, with one single swipe he would get it off his face and yet cover it with his dirty hands, his forehead has always black swipes of getting rid of the sweat. Sometimes he would wipe his eyes of tiredness and get rid of the tiring work that he does. Resulting in getting his eyes covered in the black filth that he has all over his body.

With black filth around his eye, piercing blue eyes and a stern and stoic look on his face. Most people who just met him would fear him, tremble at the tall and board frame of the young man that would carry his battle axe and sword all around the village. If you were a villager of Alkmaar, you would know why he does what he does and why he walked around the village with his weapons.

Despite Alkmaar being a town in the middle of the Holland kingdom and under the rule of King Jos. The man that everyone hates in the village, Max had made it his mission to drive away the soldiers from the village. It had been funny for the village to see how those soldiers would tremble at the look of Max. the young man that would fold his arms over his chest while stoically and angerly staring at the soldiers before theyu left.

And since the village of Alkmaar has a thick stone wall with only one way in, they could easily keep the soldiers away. The young blacksmith only had to show his face and his axe and the army would run away. What most people didn't know was that Alkmaar had one more away out. It was a secret tunnel Max had led build in case the royal army wanted to block the known entrance into the town.