On a cloudy day in Blaizecraft a blacksmith shop weathered with age stands locked up, isolated from the crumbling world around it. The old cobble walls have been lined with insect-filled dark green moss, and it made a grumbling noise as if it were to fall apart whenever something touches it. The identical stone roof did the same. Windows once decorated with glass is now replaced with half-ass made fences. No one knows how long the blacksmith has been here, but judging by the trees surrounding it, about the same time when Blaizecraft was created by none other than Blaize9 himself. The trees by Boxhead's family house are of the same age, as well as the government building that belonged to Blaize while he was still ruling for one hundred and two years. Is it of significance that all three of these land marks are from the same time period given that they are quite opposite? Or is it, perhaps, just a silly coincidence?
Through the crumbling stairs and through the reinforced wooden door lay Mikis. Thirteen days has passed since his one-sided battle with the short cow. Layers of bandages covered his lower torso region. The cow threw countless punches fatal fists at his ribs, only his lightning, his loyal friend, saved him. In the tiny flame inside Mikis that marked as is mind repeated these words over and over:
"Thank you."
Saying thanks to the lightning that kept on sparking the flame in Mikis's head was the only thing Mikis could do. He was, for now, good as dead.
The Blacksmith emerged from his dark bedroom into his workshop where Mikis was. He walked toward Mikis and sat on a chair he made himself and looked at him with attentive eyes. The swords of all shapes and sizes seemed to look at Mikis. Even the battle axes seemed to do the same, also the hammers, maces, bows, picks, and shields stared intently at Mikis. They had nothing better to do, it was certainly better than hanging on the old walls.
There was only silence in the workshop. Once or twice a gust of wind blew through the fence windows and made rattled with the weapons on the walls, making all sorts of clangs and bangs. The Blacksmith got up and went into the small kitchen beside the workshop and mumbled some words. All of a sudden a cup filled with coffee. He went back to his chair beside Mikis.
"Well, Mikis, I think now's a better time than ever to explain what in the world is happening right now," said the Blacksmith, taking a sip from his coffee afterward. "Put on your listening ears now. Even though you basically dead doesn't mean you can't hear me. I know you can. There's much more to you than meets the eye. Now, let's begin."
"In the one hundred and first year of Blaize9's rule over Blaizecraft, about eight hundred years prior to this day, Blaize was much older than Simplistic was before he died. He was looking for a successor. Two factions rose. One was a group of Blaizecraft's smartest men, composed of writers, philosophers, astronomers, and politicians. A man named Simon Pliestic II was the smartest out of all of the men in his group. All he wanted to do was make Blaizecraft a better place.He was nominated as the successor of Blaize9 - and is Simplistic's oldest known ancestor. Do you understand so far, Mikis?" Mikis's brow winced.
"The other faction was a mysterious tribe from up north. They were tall and deceiving. They came to Blaizecraft in bear skins and blunt stone tools, but soon became the richest faction group in the whole city. All of them were related, and each one of them, young and old, wore a mask over they're head. The newly appointed leader of the faction has nominated himself to be the new ruler of Blaizecraft. His only advantage over Simon was his deceiving ways of weaving words. He was a sly fellow indeed. No one knew his intentions for wanting to rule Blaizecraft. Some said he wanted the riches and gold, others said it was for a woman. He died without anyone confirming what he intended," the Blacksmith took a gulp of his coffee. Mikis showed no reaction.
Blacksmith put down his cup of coffee on the table and continued, "On cool autumn evening the two men stood across from each other on the courtyard of Blaize's palace. The king appointed both of them to come and take the throne. Blaize had a smirk on his face when the two demanded what was going on. He raised his hand signaling his guards. Guards encircled the courtyard with only Simon and Naman inside it. Blaize's eyes glittered with bloodthirsty excitement. He rested one leg over the other, placed his crown on the podium next to his thrown and said, "Fight.""
"The two lunged at each other with knives in their hands, screaming as they ran closer and closer at each other. They were-"the Blacksmith was interrupted by a groan. One eye was barely open on Mikis's face. Dry blood was revealed on his teeth as he groaned again, trying to get up.
A roaring bark escaped his lips when the pain from his ribs came back in full force. A blotch of blood colored the left side of his bandage. Mikis dropped down onto his blankets. The old blacksmith was waiting for him to speak, but all he did was lay there, the other eye slowly opening. His scratched mouth opened a little, then some more, until he uttered something.
"How," Mikis coughed up blood onto the floor next to him, "how do you k- know all thi- th- this?" Mikis's eyes closed. His mouth barely open, blood red drool escaped it.
Blacksmith took a final sip from his coffee and said, "Because I was there." He took a wet towel and wiped off the blood on the floor. "Ouch!" he yelped, something shocked him. He saw tiny blue sparks jumping through the blood. The Blacksmith smiled. "So you're back," he said. And continued wiping the blood off the floor.
