Flashback In steel he tempers patience

[Maximus Gears]

20th of Fall, 500 AV The smell of sulfur filled his nostrils, the chime of hammer striking anvil rang in his ears even as he sought to filter out the distractions caused by the other blacksmiths nearby. Once more he had taken up his labor, started again where he failed earlier. He might not have been blessed with the talent his siblings and father had but he did not lack the determination. If anything it was that deficit which only further added to his strength. Though he would admit frustration he had always used that as a springboard to succeed in his endeavors. He was the first to arrive and the last to leave this chamber and even if he was the least promising smith of his family he would never blame anyone for it. Patience. That was the virtue he possessed above all others. While he did see the difference between his own skill and natural talent bestowed upon others at work he never once believed he could never reach the same heights they did. He would reach them inevitably, it was only a matter of time, of patience. Effort was the one thing that would not betray him, of that he was certain. He pumped the flames of the forge with his foot, the pedals attached to a chain and revolving fan causing the flames to breathe and grow fiercer even when he didn't introduce new coal into the mix. Maximus gazed into the bar of iron bathing in the fire for a few moments to confirm if it had reached forging heat. Not yet. The tong he held in his other hand relaxed, its pincers dipping towards the floor while his isurian arm rested impatiently atop his knees as he waited for the iron to take on the bright yellow glow that he had seen a thousand times before. This was a test of the mind as much as it was the body. He flexed his fingers, stretching them from point to point against the yet cool iron forge waiting for the time to be ripe. And then he noticed it, moments later, the metal's glow had finally taken on that lovely radiance and he reached out - his gemstone like hand harmlessly going into the forge to retrieve the bar of iron ore that was a commission from the farmers in a human community who's name escaped him at the time. Even now he marveled at this gift, even if he didn't have the talent he had been given this arm. If Izurdin saw it fit to bless him with this gift then he was meant to be able to use it. Where he lacked the talent he would only have to supply the will, in time he knew deep in his heart that he could reach it to. The only enemy here was time, his jealousy was irrational, his faith concrete.