Iron Power And Sorcerer

Iron Power And Sorcerer Chapter 135

2021-01-23

Chapter 135 The Blacksmith and the Roast Pig

It was getting dark and the two men were still busy in the blacksmith shop .

The old blacksmith Misha holds the red-hot iron billet, and the young blacksmith Bellion swings the hammer. The shadows of the two on the wall danced with the firelight, as if it were some kind of special dance.

Each time the billet is forged by Berion, Misha adjusts the angle appropriately. The two blacksmiths cooperated seamlessly, and soon a slightly curved sword grid emerged from the iron billet.

Misha threw the formed sword grid into the oil drum and called his assistant to prepare the hilt.

Berrion went back to the back room of the blacksmith shop and took out a wooden handle. The material is oak sapwood with good feel and elasticity. It has been processed into a suitable hilt according to the user's hand in advance.

The spirally fluted hilt is tightly wrapped by Berrian with milk-white stingray skin and glued with swim bladder glue.

After confirming the adhesion, the young blacksmith put a can of black ink to simmer beside the forge and began to paint the hilt.

For Winters watching, the two blacksmiths' previous work, while interesting, was nothing special.

But when the brush dipped in black ink touched the stingray skin, he was amazed.

Under the effect of black lacquer, the originally ordinary fish skin shows delicate and fine textures, just a glance makes people want to touch it. Black ink has actually become the magic stroke of changing something rotten into something magical.

What's more, Berian, who has completed the two processes of painting and drying, took out another plate of silver wire.

After fixing one end of the silver wire to the tail section of the hilt, the young blacksmith began to wrap the silver wire around the hilt along the groove. Soon the black leather was divided into equidistant segments by the fine lines of silver.

No gold used, no jewelry set. But in Winters' view, this hilt is no less exquisite than any saber that sits at the waist of aristocrats and nobles.

The black fish skin and bright silver thread complement each other, which is not only exquisite but also practical. This kind of simple and generous beauty makes those jeweled swords of honor look vulgar.

Not only Winters' eyes couldn't be separated from the hands of the young blacksmith, but even Misha, the old blacksmith next to him, couldn't help clicking one's tongue in wonder.

A door in my memory was suddenly pushed open, and Winters suddenly remembered where he had seen similar craftsmanship, or style and aesthetics.

On a dagger that nearly took his life - how similar the hilt of Sophia's dagger was to this one.

The silver wrapping process is completed quickly, and the rest of the finishing work is very simple, as long as the various parts are assembled on the sword bar and it can be delivered. But it seems that for the young blacksmith, these are not finished yet.

After briefly securing the grid, hilt, and weight ball, Berrian handed the sword to Winters and said briefly, "You try first."

This is a The one-handed saber was one of the weapons Winters ordered the other day. The sword stick is a ready-made product bought by the Misato people from the county town of Revodan, and it took a little half a month for the traveler to go there and back.

As a result, Winters of the saber pressed the tip of the sword down on the ground, and the blade was deformed by force, and the moved towards the side curved into an arc. Let go, the blade will bounce back naturally.

The second lieutenant squinted, the saber was still straight and not deformed.

He slashed a few more times on the spherical anvil where he tried the sword. The power of the slashing increased gradually, but the saber remained strong without any frontal bending or breaking.

Winters nodded with satisfaction.

The Dussack blacksmith Misha sighed with emotion: "People are more dead than people, and goods are thrown away! Steel Castle's finished swords are much better than my work, I beat them. If the sword was tried like this, it would have been broken long ago. It can't be compared, it's really incomparable."

"These swords are too tempered, and their toughness is better." The young blacksmith said briefly.

Winters swiped a few more times, and the hilt of the fish-skin silver thread felt great. It's comfortable to hold without feeling awkward, and the grooves allow sweat to escape so the hilt doesn't get slippery.

"The center of gravity is a little bit back. Adjust it a little bit forward, a foot in front of the sword grid." Winters returned the sword.

This one-handed sword now has a center of gravity near the grid, but Winters prefers a more forward center of gravity, and the formidable power of slashing will be greater.

The advantage of custom weapons is that everything can be changed, but in fact there are not many places where the weapons themselves can be adjusted.

The buyer's special requirements are more reflected in the decoration. The reason why Winters is at the blacksmith shop is that Misha asked him to come and choose the decoration style.

"You really don't need to etch anything on the sword?" the old blacksmith couldn't help asking.

"No need." Winters smiled and shook the head: "Will it damage the strength of the blade?"

Misha waved again and again: "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter much. After all A sabre needs to be patterned to look good."

"I like something simple."

Misha said regretfully: "Etching is a skillful job, and the whole county may be too. It's a pity that Berian has this ability, so it's a pity you don't try it. Alas, when you want to add some tricks to the sword, come back."

"Okay." Winters thought move and said casually. : "Even if I'm a layman, I can tell that you guys are really good at making swords."

"I'm an old fogey who can make swords, and I'll also play farm implements." Misha With a smile on his face, he patted the young blacksmith on the shoulder and said, "This baby is really capable! The swordsmith in Gervoudin is not as good as him. It's a pity that it is in this small place, if it were in a big city, this baby would have been Made a fortune."

"You don't say this." Berian whispered short words.

The young blacksmith is taciturn, cherish words like gold, mostly remaining silent and busy with his work, sitting in a corner chair staring at the fire if he has no work to do.

"You don't have to be humble, too modest is also arrogant. With your craftsmanship, if you get to Hailan, the order can be placed until next year." Winters asked casually: "I don't know where your hometown is yet? Berian ."

"In the north."

"Empire?"

"en."

"Where is the Empire?"

p>

The young blacksmith lifts the head and Winters looked at each other, then lowered quickly: "Solingen."

"Are you from Steelcastle? Little Bellion. I don't even know. The old blacksmith startled: "No wonder your craftsmanship is so good, it turns out that you are a steel castle blacksmith."

The famous name Winters of the steel castle Solingen also heard a little, he asked with a smile: "Steel Castle It's far enough away from here, so how did you come to Palatu?"

Before the young blacksmith could speak, the old Misha replied first: "This child is a Protestant and is very unpopular in the north. ."

Berlian nodded.

"Oh!" Old Misha patted his thigh and said sadly, "There will be a reason to kill the Protestants every few years. I was also killed when I was serving as Emperor Sovereign. Ordered to do that kind of thing. Alas, when I was young at that time, I cut down indiscriminately, alas..."

The more the old blacksmith talked, the more sad he became, and the young blacksmith also stopped his work, He shook his head lightly to indicate "it's okay".

Winters asked one more question: "Are there any other family members coming with you?"

"My younger brother."

"Then your brother is not. A blacksmith?"

"He works as a long-term worker at the Bentins."

Nothing useful came up. However, Winters didn't particularly care about the source of Sophia's dagger. Hailan is far in the sky, so what if you can find out clearly?

"Please come and fetch the sword tomorrow," Berian said.

Winters was a little surprised: "Isn't it almost there? Can't we finish it today?"

"The sword grid needs to be polished, and it needs to be sharpened." The young blacksmith briefly explained two sentences : "I'll do it overnight, you can pick it up tomorrow."

"Polishing is a delicate job, and the wages for polishing are sometimes more expensive than armor." The old blacksmith added on the side: "You go back first. Well, this kid will fix it for you."

It was getting dark and old Misha was leaving town with Winters. The old blacksmith's home is in the village of Dusa, and he rides back and forth every day. Young blacksmiths eat and live in the blacksmith's shop, and watch the shop by the way.

…

When Winters returned to Mitchell Manor, the lights were seen from a distance. The Mitchell Manor, which originally rested at sunset, was extremely lively tonight.

It's getting cooler and it's the last tobacco harvest at Mitchell Estate.

In the newly cultivated land, the tobacco is harvested three times due to the climate. In the first two harvests, only part of the leaves of the plants were harvested, and in the third harvest, all tobacco leaves were completely harvested.

For Mitchell Estates, the tobacco harvest is the most important time of the year.

Except for a small amount of food crops, the remaining 200 hectares of the Mitchell family's land are all used to grow tobacco.

Pay taxes, pay salaries, buy seeds... Mitchell Manor runs entirely on tobacco. So the tobacco harvest determines the income of this large estate for a whole year.

And harvesting tobacco leaves is a hard and tiring job, and the speed must be fast.

It's already September, and frost could fall anytime. Once the tobacco is frosted, that year's harvest is ruined.

So when tobacco leaves are ripe, pickers must race against time to harvest the leaves while they are still perfect.

Picked tobacco must also be bundled, dried and stored as soon as possible, otherwise the quality will also be affected.

So during the tobacco harvest season, the Mitchells work round the clock. Regardless of master, servant, long-term worker, man or woman, all must go to work in the tobacco fields.

Pierre, the idle boy, is obediently and honestly breaking tobacco leaves in the tobacco fields.

Not only the people from Mitchell Manor are working hard in the tobacco fields, but also many villagers from the five villages under Wolf Township came to help.

In addition to the Mitchell estate, other tobacco-growing estates are mostly harvested on these days.

In order to recruit more people, each manor will offer high salaries to farmers who come to help.

Therefore, the tobacco harvest season is one of the few times of the year when farmers in Wolf Town can earn extra money.

It was already night, but a bonfire was raised in the smoke field, and everyone was still working hard.

The entire harvesting process has a clear division of labor. People working in the tobacco fields break the tobacco leaves from the plants completely and load them to the barn.

Individual tobacco leaves are bundled with twine outside the barn and hung on wooden racks. Compared with harvesting tobacco leaves, bundling tobacco is a more test of skill, and only a woman with ingenuity can do it.

So there are hardly any men who work outside the barn. The women moved extremely fast, the twine fluttering between their fingers. The eyes of bystanders could not keep up with the movements of their hands, and a row could be tied up in the blink of an eye.

Tobacco leaves neatly hung on wooden racks will be sent to the roasting room to be dried, and a large amount of coal will be used generously in the roasting process.

At the barn, only men were left to work. Because it was too hot in the barn, almost all the operators climbed up and down the ladders naked, and naturally there were no women.

But even without clothes, the person responsible for curing tobacco leaves can only stay in the barn for a short time, otherwise there is a risk of suffocation.

Winters got an interesting sight: Mrs Mitchell and her youngest daughter were driving a carriage full of hooped wine barrels. The two seemed to be going to give drinks to the people working in the tobacco fields.

Everyone else is busy, and the two ladies don't seem to be very good at riding horses.

Skin is rough, flesh is thick, heavy draught horses nibble on the wheat in the roadside farmland recklessly.

Seeing this, Winters immediately stepped forward to help. He doesn't really know how to drive, but he can still do it by holding the reins.

When they got to the tobacco fields, the coachman of the Mitchells saw the second lieutenant was leading the horse, and rushed over to take over the job of Winters.

Mrs. Mitchell thanked Winters with a smile, while Miss Mitchell almost buried her face in mother's arm.

Seeing everyone in the manor working hard, Winters suddenly felt a little ashamed.

"I'm here to help too, but remember to pay me." Winters jokingly said.

"I have something to ask you too." Mrs. Mitchell smiled and said, "Mr. Mitchell is in the west of the oven, could you please help him? He is using Got a reliable helper."

"Of course no problem, ma'am." Winters stepped on the red mane nodded in greeting, moved towards the barn and galloped away.

Before the ride was in place, Winters knew what was going on.

There was an enticing aroma in the air, the smell of barbecue.

A few dozen meters to the west of the flue-curing room, Girard and his Dussac Old Partners are busy.

Several huge arched wooden covers were fastened on the ground, and aroma and smoke wafted out of the gaps in the planks.

A cover that was lifted next to it allowed Winters to see the structure inside: under the wooden cover was a large earth pit nearly one meter deep. It appears to be a makeshift oven.

Seeing Winters approaching, Girard waved to him happily: "Come on! Help!"

Only when Girard arrived, Winters understood why such a large The "oven" - because this type of oven roasts a whole pig at a time.

A whole pig was split into two from head to tail and spread out on an iron frame. It walked peacefully.

Girard filled the pit with charcoal and wood, and six men worked with a common purpose to lift the two pigs and the iron frame onto the Fire Pit and fasten the lid.

A few pigs croaked not far away. Looking at the blood on the grass and the pigs in the tub, Winters realized that they were still being slaughtered and roasted.

He counted, and there were already six smoking pits on the ground. Not to mention, there are twice as many pigs in the temporary pig sty not far away.

He asked in surprise: "Isn't it going to bake too much sex this time?"

"If you invite people to work, you must give them a good meal." Rad had a smile on his face.

Old Sergey was also there, and he laughed and said, "The roast pigs at Mitchell Manor are famous. Not only the Captain's house, but the people who work in other people's houses can smell it. They'll all come over, and the work will be put down."

"Tobacco harvest season is a rare holiday." Another familiar voice reached Winters' ears: "Only this time of year is enough. It takes a lot of fuel and time to roast a whole pig. Boy, you are blessed, and you don’t know when the next time you can eat this kind of food!”

“Why don’t you? Coming?" Winters stared wide-eyed looking at the old begging cultivator.

"Come and eat meat."

"Why didn't the person who lifted the grill just saw you?"

Rid cultivator as it should be By rights replied: "I can't lift it."

"Okay, I have to go to sleep." Old Sergey yawned: "I'll change it later. You guys."

After saying that, old Sergey ran to a short distance and found a flat place to lie down.

"Sleep for a while?" Winters had never seen such a battle: "How long is this going to bake?"

Gillard scooped a glass of sweet wine from the wooden barrel beside him and handed it to the second lieutenant: "Ten hours."

Thanks to the book friends who have been voting for recommendation before. ;
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(end of this chapter)