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I have fallen a little behind. Oddly, I am having a harder time focusing on my days off work. Here is day 8. I will catch up over the next few days.

Weapons by Jeremiah McCoy

Argath bent his hulking body over the bench.  His thick fingers were bent to the work of shaping the small pins down into place. They were to hold the ruby in its mount. The dull red gem looked like a large drop of blood frozen in motion. It contrasted with the gold wirework on the pommel.

It was needlessly ornate, but it was beautiful. He had spent hours crafting intricate delicate swirls that would withstand use but maintain the pattern. It was not an easy task.  Each of the sword parts sat nearby and had been wrought with equal care.


He turned to look. Fera was there standing with her hands-on hips. She was only 4 foot 8 inches, but she had a towering presence. She was as hot with anger, possibly hotter than the forge.

“Yes?” he replied quietly as he went back to finishing the pommel.

“Why in the hell are you still working on that sword?” She punched the wall above the workbench and bits of dust rained down.  Argath blew on his workspace and continued.

“I wanted to finish it.”

“You should have finished it 3 weeks ago!”

“I was just making sure it was perfect.”

“It’s never going to be perfect and we still owe the garrison 20 more spearheads by the week’s end!”

“I know.  I just…it should be beautiful. Can’t I just make a beautiful thing?” He finally turned to look down at Fera. 

She grabbed his arm but not without kindness. Fera took a deep breath and calmed herself.

“Nothing that kills can truly be beautiful. It is a weapon, and its purpose is ugly. This is just… I don’t know.” She looked at the sword. Parts waiting for final assembly. They were all perfectly crafted. Assembled, it would possibly be a masterpiece.  

“I know. I just need to make something….more? Better”

“Fine,” Fera said with a sigh, “but finish this tonight and get to work on those spear tips tomorrow.”

She wandered off to another part of the shop. Argath turned once more to the pommel and finished the gold cage that held the blood-red stone in place.

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