Chapter 27: The Blacksmiths’ Guild

Leaving the artisans' workshop behind, the old man and the chronicler headed towards the Blacksmiths' Guild. This was the heart of the city in terms of brute force and weapons production. If war was imminent, the blacksmiths would feel its coming the most, as their hammers never stopped forging blades, shields, and armor. The metallic sound of blows echoed through the streets, and the heat from the forges made the air heavy.

The blacksmiths' guild, a sturdy building made of dark stone and reinforced metal, seemed like a fortress in itself. As he entered, the old man noticed the men and women hard at work, their hands dirty with soot and sweat, but their eyes focused on what they were doing. The smell of molten iron and burning coal filled the air.

The guild leader, a tall, strong man with muscular arms and scars visible on his tanned skin, was overseeing the creation of a new sword when he noticed the old man and the chronicler approaching. He paused for a moment, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and walked toward them with firm steps.

"I have heard of you," the leader said, his deep voice nearly drowned out by the surrounding sounds. "They say you are trying to unite the guilds. But it is not so simple here. We blacksmiths make the weapons that others use to fight. We are not of words, but of action."

The old man nodded, understanding the mindset of those who forged the fate of the city with their own hands. "It is true that actions speak louder than words," he replied calmly. "But a city divided, even with the best weapons, is destined to fall. If the merchants and artisans are willing to consider an alliance, it is because they know that we need more than sharp blades to survive."

The leader of the blacksmiths crossed his arms, his gaze assessing the old man seriously. "And what exactly do you expect us to do? Give up our weapons to those who might betray us? Fight alongside those we do not trust?"

"No," the old man replied, his voice firm and thick with experience. "I ask that you use your strength, your skill, and your courage to protect this city, not just with weapons, but with an alliance that can withstand the enemy. If the guilds unite, you will have the power to decide how to fight, and you will not be just someone else's tools."

The leader of the blacksmiths considered the old man's words, knowing there was truth in them. He looked at the blacksmiths around him, all attentive to the conversation. They were warriors in spirit, but they also understood the importance of protecting their homes and families.

"War is coming," the leader said finally. "And we cannot afford to fight alone. If the other guilds agree to join forces, then we will stand with them. But know that if this alliance fails, it will be our strength that will keep the city standing."

The old man nodded, respecting the blacksmith leader's decision. "I will ask no more than that. The city needs all of you, together. And if we must fight, let it be alongside allies, not among enemies."

The blacksmith leader nodded, accepting the old man's words. With that, the old man and the chronicler left the guild, feeling that another important step had been taken. As they walked back through the streets, the chronicler looked at the old man, impressed by his ability to navigate the different factions in the city.

"Do you truly believe that you can unite everyone?" the chronicler asked, with a mixture of doubt and hope.

"It is not a matter of belief," the old man replied thoughtfully. "It is a matter of necessity. If they don't unite, the city is lost. And if there's even a chance, however small, to prevent that, then it's worth trying." With that determination, they continued their journey, knowing that every decision they made in this city could mean the difference between its survival and destruction. The old man was prepared to continue his mission, knowing that there was still much work to be done before the city could truly stand united against the approaching threat.