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	The Blacksmith finally pulled an expression in the form of a curled lip or, as it were, a sneer. He stopped hammering as well, placed his hammer and the item he was working on next to him on a stone bench. He looked at his open kiddie-pool sized fire pit, which was barely producing any heat at all at the moment, he regarded his house as if it were holding secret value, and then he slightly nodded in direction of a small establishment across the street next to the stables. Above the door of that building was a sign that read [i][b]Amber Wears[/b][/i].

‘Amber deals in leather goods, amongst other things,’ told the blacksmith, then gave Jack a curious, if not condescending, look. ‘And unless your senses are dull and your brain is slow then it should be obvious that my forge is not at full capacity today.’

Jack was slightly off-balanced by this, he wasn’t expecting to have his intelligence insulted by the brute who was turning out to be smarter than Jack had first given him credit for. 

The Blacksmith continued. ‘My hearth is in use two or three full days each week when the boys are available to keep it fully heated, everyone around here knows that. Hell, even the King knows that. If you want to place an order in, I’ll get to it eventually.’

‘Right, of course,’ said Jack, eyeing the fire pit - or hearth, apparently - then glanced over at the large furnace on the far side of the yard. Though the hearth was dwindling in heat, the furnace appeared to be full charge, smoke billowing from its roof. 

‘But if you want to look at what I have in stock,’ added the Blacksmith, ‘we can venture into my basement.’ His final words stopped short with a severe dead look into Jack’s eyes. ‘That is if you have the coin.’ 

‘I have a means to pay you, yes,’ replied Jack, though he wasn’t sure the man would accept it. 

‘Then follow me.’ 

Jack nodded, started to follow, and said, ‘Name’s Jack. And you are?’ 

‘Folk call me Torn.’