If House Darsha had one consistent policy, it was that noble children should not play with fire.
So naturally, Sharath wanted to do exactly that.
Not for rebellion. Not for spectacle.
But because the forge—its heat, its rhythm, its possibilities—had kindled something in him since the first time he saw Master Ilvar hammer glowing iron into form.
And now, at nearly four months old, his mind raced ahead of his hands.
He needed access.
Not to just study tools, but to make them.
❖ Operation Parent PersuasionIt began at dinner.
Lady Ishvari, sipping spiced plum wine, watched as Sharath carefully stacked two bread cubes, placed a spoon between them, and lightly tapped the top—replicating a basic lever assembly.
"That's the third time he's done that," she said.
Lord Varundar raised an eyebrow. "He's demonstrating balance. Or inventing catapults."
"Or both," Sharath thought, giving the spoon a final nudge that launched a grape into his father's cup.
Splash.
The steward gasped.
Lady Ishvari coughed into her napkin, trying not to laugh.
Lord Varundar stared into the wine. "He has intent."
Later that evening, when Ishvari asked, "What do you want to do with all that curiosity, little one?"—Sharath pointed, with calm precision, to the family's ceremonial smithing hammer mounted above the hearth.
"…You want to learn blacksmithing?"
He nodded.
And to their credit—they didn't say no.
❖ Enter Hendrick, the SkepticalMaster Hendrick was not a man of many smiles.
Former soldier. Lifelong blacksmith. Beard like braided iron. Arms like tree trunks. Voice like a whetstone grinding through sarcasm.
When Lord Varundar first introduced the idea—"My son wishes to learn the art"—Hendrick stared at the infant bundled in a woolen sling and grunted.
"He has wrists smaller than a tuning fork."
"He's observant," said Varundar. "Eager."
"He's teething."
Hendrick folded his arms.
"Give me one week. Let me show him the forge. If he survives the smoke without crying and doesn't try to eat a horseshoe, I'll teach him."
Sharath met the blacksmith's gaze with unnerving calm.
Then slowly extended one hand and mimicked hammering it into his other palm.
Hendrick blinked.
"…I'll be damned."
❖ The First LessonThe forge sat at the southern edge of the estate—half-stone, half-wood, and fully alive with heat and clangor.
Sharath was placed on a padded stool reinforced with safety enchantments, a child-sized apron draped around his chest. His duck-blanket had been banished for the day.
Hendrick handed him a smooth iron ingot.
"Weight it."
Sharath lifted it with both hands, tilting it left and right, testing the center of gravity.
"Good. That's raw iron. Soft, but stubborn. Makes decent nails, lousy blades."
He walked Sharath through the basics:
What color heat meant "too hot" versus "just right."
How slag floated, and why.
The difference between folding and forging.
Sharath drank it all in.
He asked no questions—but his eyes never left the tools.
By the end of the day, he could mimic Hendrick's hammer grip with perfect alignment using a stick and a stone.
The blacksmith scratched his beard.
"You learn like a sponge eats water."
Sharath smiled. Not bad for a teething prodigy.
❖ Metallurgy MisfitsOver the following weeks, the lessons expanded.
Sharath was introduced to:
Copper and bronze alloys.
Tin's temperamental behavior.
The brittle tragedy that was untreated iron.
Quenching techniques, oil vs. water.
And the sacred fold—repetition for strength.
During one session, Hendrick demonstrated the common method of creating Navaleon steel—by combining soft iron and charcoal through repeated folding and mild enchantment heating.
Sharath frowned.
The process was… inefficient.
Wasteful heat dispersion. Charcoal consumption poorly timed. No oxygen management.
This can be improved.
That night, he sketched in his hidden folio:
Proposed Experiment:
Introduce controlled air intake using adjustable bellows.
Experiment with lime flux layering.
Explore crucible technique using ceramic molds.
Enchant forge with elemental fire glyph only for stabilizing high heat—not primary energy source.
Expected Result: Cleaner carbon bonding. Denser grain pattern. Higher edge retention.
❖ The Quiet TestOne quiet afternoon, when Hendrick had gone to inspect iron stock, Sharath crawled toward the side forge and examined a pile of slag cast-offs.
Using tongs nearly his size, he selected the least ruined piece and set it on the stone.
He tapped it with a small hammer—gently at first. Then with more rhythm.
His arms ached after only ten strikes.
But on the eleventh, he felt it.
The sound changed.
The metal sang.
He paused. Closed his eyes.
Then whispered the warmth-stabilize glyph he'd practiced in secret.
A soft red hue pulsed beneath the ingot. Just enough to ease the rigidity.
Sharath struck once more.
Clang.
Smooth. Clean. Sharper resonance.
Hendrick returned and saw the glowing mark.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Did you…?"
Sharath looked up, holding the hammer with both hands, like a tiny god of industry.
"…You just taught yourself temperature balancing?"
Sharath blinked.
Then handed Hendrick the ingot.
The blacksmith ran a finger along the edge and whistled.
"…I've had apprentices for ten years who never made a piece this honest."
He looked down.
"What are you?"
Sharath gave a very small shrug and pointed to the forge.
Hendrick chuckled.
"All right, little smith. You're hired."
❖ The Spark IgnitesThat night, Sharath added a final entry to his hidden book:
Project Ironheart – Phase 1 Complete
Parental approval acquired ✅
Craft mentor acquired ✅
Material familiarity acquired ✅
First experimental result: promising.
Next steps: Design alloy standardization tools. Prototype air-flow stabilizer. Begin drafting multipurpose mechanical press (manual, enchanted, dual-mode).
He closed the book, placed it beneath his pillow, and lay back.
He'd held iron.
He'd bent fire.
And for the first time in this world, he didn't just understand the system—
He'd changed it.