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Jugend was the kingdom of the dwarves, the race that was famed as the blacksmith race. From birth, they preferred metal over milk, blessed with resistance to heat and robust physiques. Though they had the makings of excellent warriors, out of ten dwarves, ten became blacksmiths, and out of a hundred, ninety-nine.
Just as elves instinctively sought forests and conversed with spirits, dwarves were driven by instinct to seek hidden ore veins and bend metal to their will.
Possessing both talent and aptitude in abundance, it was only natural that Jugend’s metallurgy outstripped every other race. Even the average smith of Jugend would be hailed as a master once outside the kingdom, and that was a widely accepted truth.
Thus, to be called a true master in Jugend, one had to meet certain conditions. They had to possess a forge in Area 1.
The heart of Jugend, the so-called “Iron Heart,” was a district where only a few hundred among hundreds of thousands of dwarves could maintain their own forges. Each year, fierce competition erupted for the limited spots, and holding onto one’s forge was no easier than earning it.
A smith who had a forge in Area 1, and kept it for years or decades, could only be exceptional. Otherwise, they would have been displaced long ago.
“This city hasn’t changed a bit in ten years. Some of the signs are different, but the people still do the same stuff they were doing ten years ago,” muttered Cedric, Swordmaster and the Sword Demon, as he passed through an alleyway, invited here as Leon’s examiner.
The sound of hammers striking iron. The heat tickled his skin. Along with those, the city gleamed...
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