Raid

II

Look here, boy., the man instructed his son with his heavy Anglo-Saxon accent, This is how you want a blade to look before you soak it in water.. The son looked at the red-orange coloured blade on the anvil; its proportions were almost perfect. Soaking the metals was always his favourite part, he loved watching the steam fly into the air and the sound it made. The father retrieved a pair of prongs from the workbench, wiped the sweat from his brow with his sturdy leather gloves and lifted the blade over the bucket of water they had set aside. The young ones eyes were fixated on the blade, anticipating the coming eruption.

The father let the prongs drop slightly; keeping his other eye on his childs face as a mischievous smirk made its way onto his face. He did this again before the boy spoke up, Poppaaaa, please.. The father responded with a hearty laugh at his sons frustration. The prongs plunged into the water bucket, releasing a sharp SSSHHHHHHH. The boys eyes lit up in awe; the highlight of his day. The boy was rather tall for his age and Big boned as his mother put it. He had a plump, round face with flat blue eyes that almost looked the colour of steel under certain light with light brown hair that would grow blond if he spent too much time outside in the sun.

The steam dissipated and the father pulled the blade out of the bucket, placing it back on top of the anvil. Isnt that a beauty? he said more to himself than anything. Regardless, the son commented, She is very pretty.. The two stood there admiring their work for a moment before a voice came from the house, Love, is Braum out there with you?. The father turned his head to answer his wife, Gea, hes out here.. Alright well, the food is here on the table for you two., she responded. The father instructed, Come on boy, time for food.. This was the other highlight of Braums day.

In between mouthfuls of mutton and beer, Braum asked his parents, Did you know that in big cities like London, there are such people called chefs?. Braum took another swig of beer in an attempt to wash the mutton down his throat, And chefs are paid to prepare food for people? Like what you do Ma, but its ones profession!. The mother looked up at the mention of her name, Dyou hear that love? I should be paid in coin for this meal., she remarked with a playful smile. The father swallowed his mutton and responded with a soft chuckle, Braum, whered you learn about these chefs youre on about?. Braums chewing ceased and he started looking through the table; searching his brain for a memory of the first time he learned of a chef.

His eyes lit up with recognition, Godwin told me about them!. Godwin? the father inquired. Gea, Godwin and I were speaking of foods and he mentioned that people are paid to make food for others in some of the larger cities., Braum explained, I thought that was rather interesting, so I remembered it.. At a lower volume, he continued, I was thinking that maybe I could b-. The father interrupted him through a mouth of mutton, Ne boy., he swallowed, Youre to be a smithy.. An almost uncomfortable silence enveloped the table before the father continued, Im a smithy, my father was a smithy, he looked up from his plate and enunciated every syllable, And that makes you a smithy..

The smiles were gone now and all was silent until Braum spoke, Momma,. The mother looked to her son. Thanks to you for this meal. Braum finished with an innocent smile. After a few moments of listening for any hint of sarcasm, the father commented, I second that..

The smiles returned.