Chapter Twenty: Ambitious

The morning's work began with the familiar ritual of the enhanced barbell, but Elias found his attention already drawn to the project taking shape on his workbench. Five rasp files in total—a complete set that would cover every aspect of his metalworking needs. The interesting challenge wasn't just creating superior tools, but designing them as a cohesive system where each rasp file would complement the others while maintaining its individual specialization. He had completed the first rasp file the previous evening, a flat rasp file.

The second rasp file waited on his anvil, ready for the final stages of tooth cutting. This would be a half-round rasp file, designed for working curved surfaces and internal corners. The blank had been forged from the same high-carbon steel as its predecessor, carefully shaped and heat-treated to achieve the perfect balance of hardness and toughness that would allow the cutting teeth to maintain their edge through years of demanding use.

The forge flames danced as he brought the rasp file blank to the precise temperature needed for tooth cutting—hot enough to make the steel plastic and easy to work, but not so hot that it would lose its carefully controlled grain structure. Using a specialized chisel and hammer, he began the methodical process of creating the parallel lines of cutting teeth that would give the rasp file its function.

Each tooth had to be precisely formed, with the correct angle and depth to cut efficiently without breaking under load. The work required absolute concentration—a single misplaced blow could ruin hours of careful preparation. But with his enhanced strength and the supernatural precision of his improved tools, the process moved with satisfying rhythm.

As he worked, Elias found himself considering the mythological framework he was developing for the rasp file set. Each tool would carry one letter of the figure name, chosen to complete a set together with the word.

The phone's shrill ring cut through his concentration just as he was positioning the chisel for a particularly critical cut. He considered ignoring it—the timing was terrible, and interrupting this kind of precision work often meant starting over from the beginning. But something about the persistence of the caller made him set down his tools and answer.

"Elias Thorn."

"Mr. Thorn? My name is Peter Hartwell. I got your number from Eleanor Webb—she said you did some exceptional work for her daughter's wedding."

Eleanor Webb. It took him a moment to place the connection—Webb's wife, who had apparently been present when the wedding rings were delivered and had been impressed enough to recommend his services to others. The kind of word-of-mouth referral that was invaluable for building a reputation.

"Yes, I remember the project. What can I do for you, Mr. Hartwell?"

"Well, that's the thing. I have a rather unusual request, and I was hoping we could meet to discuss it in person. It's not the sort of thing that's easy to explain over the phone."

Elias glanced at the half-completed rasp file on his anvil, calculating the work remaining versus the cooling temperature of the forge. "What kind of timeframe are we talking about?"

"I know it's short notice, but would this afternoon work? There's a café near your workshop—I looked up the address Mrs. Webb gave me. Maybe around two o'clock?"

The timing was actually perfect. He could finish the current rasp file's tooth cutting, secure the forge, and still have time for a proper meal before the meeting. His enhanced metabolism had been demanding more frequent and larger meals, a consequence of the supernatural recovery that followed his daily exercise routine.

"The café on Fifth Street? I can be there at two."

"Excellent. I'll be the one probably looking nervous and carrying a folder full of photographs. Thank you for agreeing to meet, Mr. Thorn. I think you'll find the project interesting."

After ending the call, Elias returned to his work with renewed focus. The rasp file's teeth took shape under his careful attention, each cut perfectly aligned with its neighbors to create the continuous cutting surface that would make the tool effective. The inscription would come later, after the heat treatment process that would harden the cutting edges while maintaining the rasp rasp file's structural integrity.

By the time he had finished the tooth cutting and secured the forge for the afternoon, his stomach was making pointed demands for attention. The enhanced physical training had accelerated his metabolism considerably, and he found himself constantly surprised by the quantity of food his body now required to maintain its improved condition.

The café was pleasantly busy when he arrived, filled with the kind of afternoon crowd that suggested good food and reasonable prices. He selected a table near the window where he could watch for his appointment while enjoying the natural light. The waitress—a cheerful woman who looked like she'd been working in restaurants for decades—approached with the practiced efficiency of someone who knew her business.

"What can I get you, hon?"

"Coffee, please. And four scrambled eggs with bacon."

She paused in her note-taking, pen hovering over the order pad with barely concealed surprise. "Four eggs? You sure about that?"

"Yes, and toast. Wheat if you have it."

"You got it." She scribbled the order with the kind of professional composure that had probably handled stranger requests over the years. "Anything else?"

"That should cover it for now. I'm expecting someone to join me—another coffee when he arrives."

The food arrived with the promptness that marked a well-run kitchen, and Elias was halfway through his substantial meal when a young man entered the café carrying exactly the folder of photographs that had been promised. Peter Hartwell looked to be in his early thirties, with the kind of nervous energy that suggested creative types operating under pressure.

"Mr. Thorn?" He approached with the cautious optimism of someone hoping to make a good first impression. "I'm Peter Hartwell. Sorry I'm a few minutes late—traffic was worse than expected."

"No problem at all." Elias gestured to the chair across from him, not pausing in his consumption of eggs and bacon. "I apologize for starting without you, but I was forging this morning and worked up quite an appetite."

"Please, don't worry about it." Peter settled into his chair and caught the waitress's attention with a raised hand. "Just coffee for me, thanks."

As Peter organized his folder and prepared to explain his unusual request, Elias found himself studying the young man with the assessment skills he'd developed through years of evaluating potential clients. Well-dressed but not ostentatious, organized but slightly anxious, carrying himself with the particular confidence that came from recent success. A writer, he'd said on the phone, which explained the careful attention to presentation combined with underlying creative restlessness.

"So," Peter began, opening his folder to reveal a collection of professional photographs, "I should probably start by explaining who I am and what I do. I'm a fantasy novelist—I've written a trilogy called 'Rise to Be King' that's been moderately successful. Successful enough that my publisher wants to do something special for the fifth anniversary of the first book's release."

He spread several photographs across the table, revealing images of an impressive sculpture in various stages of completion. The figure was massive—clearly the three meters he'd mentioned—depicting a man in elaborate armor with his left hand raised as if warding off some terrible fate. The craftsmanship was exceptional, every detail of the armor and facial expression rendered with museum-quality precision.

"This is being created by Maria Santos—she's the sculptor handling the artistic side of the project. The figure represents the main antagonist from my books, a character called the Iron Tyrant. In the story, he's defeated when the hero drives an enchanted sword through his heart."

Elias studied the photographs with growing interest. The sculpture was positioned as if reacting in horror to something approaching from the front, the raised hand and backward-leaning posture suggesting desperate defense against an inevitable fate. The chest was clearly designed to accommodate some kind of insertion, though the photographs didn't reveal the specific mechanism.

"This is where you come in," Peter continued, pointing to the figure's chest. "We need the sword that defeats him. Something that looks like it could actually be wielded by a giant, functional rather than merely decorative. The specifications call for something close to 190 cm in length, designed along the lines of a claymore but scaled up to match the figure's proportions."

"190 cm?" Elias considered the logistics involved in creating a functional weapon of that size. "That's not just a large sword—that's practically a structural engineering challenge. The weight alone would be enormous."

"I know it's ambitious," Peter admitted, his nervousness becoming more apparent. "But the visual impact would be incredible. Imagine this three-meter figure with a 190 cm sword piercing his chest, displayed at book signings and conventions. The marketing potential is tremendous."

"What's the timeline?" Elias asked, though something in Peter's expression suggested he already knew the answer would be problematic.

Peter's composure cracked slightly. "That's... well, that's the challenging part. We need it completed in three weeks. I know it sounds impossible, but the fifth anniversary event is already scheduled, and—"

"Three weeks?" Elias set down his coffee cup with enough force to create a small splash. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what's involved in creating a 190 cm functional sword? The material costs alone would be substantial, not to mention the time required for proper forging, heat treatment, and finishing."

"I understand it's a huge ask," Peter said quickly, his words carrying the desperate edge of someone whose project success depended on an unreasonable timeline. "But the anniversary event is locked in, and the sculpture will be the centerpiece of our marketing campaign. The visual impact of the complete piece would be incredible for book sales."

Elias leaned back in his chair, his mind automatically calculating the challenges involved. 1.9 m of steel, properly forged and finished, would require weeks of work under normal circumstances. The material costs would be significant—high-quality steel in the quantities needed wouldn't be cheap. The heat treatment process alone would be complicated by the weapon's size, requiring careful attention to prevent warping or stress concentrations that could lead to failure.

But then again, he wasn't working under normal circumstances anymore. His enhanced tools and supernatural recovery would allow him to work longer and more efficiently than any conventional blacksmith. The enhanced pliers could handle workpieces that would normally require multiple assistants, and his improved physical condition would let him maintain the kind of sustained effort that large-scale forging demanded.

"It would be expensive," he said finally, testing Peter's commitment to the project.

"Money isn't the primary concern," Peter replied immediately. "This is a once-in-a-career opportunity to create something really special. Whatever your normal rates are, I'm prepared to pay a premium for the rushed timeline."

Elias spent several minutes running calculations in his head—material costs, labor time, the complexity premium for functional versus decorative work. The number that emerged was substantial, but not unreasonable considering the challenges involved.

"There would be one other condition," he said after quoting his price and watching Peter nod acceptance without hesitation. "I want proper credit for the work. Not just payment, but recognition as the craftsman who created the piece."

"Absolutely," Peter agreed immediately. "Both you and Maria will receive full credit in all marketing materials. The goal is to showcase exceptional craftsmanship, not to hide the artists who make it possible."

The handshake that sealed their agreement carried the weight of mutual understanding—Peter would get his impossible sword in an impossible timeframe, and Elias would tackle the most ambitious project of his career while building his reputation through association with a successful marketing campaign.

As Peter gathered his photographs and prepared to leave, promising to arrange coordination with the sculptor within the next day, Elias found himself already planning the approach. The rasp file set It would probably be his last improved work for a while—disappointing, but unavoidable given the new project's scope and timeline. His exploration of enhanced tool creation would be postponed while he focused on challenges that conventional craftsmanship.

Walking back to his workshop through the afternoon sunshine, Elias felt the familiar excitement that came with accepting a project that pushed the boundaries of what seemed possible. Three weeks to create a 1.9 m functional claymore that would serve as the centerpiece of a major marketing campaign. The kind of challenge that would have terrified him just months ago now felt like an opportunity to demonstrate exactly what enhanced craftsmanship could accomplish.

The half-finished rasp file set waited on his workbench. Tomorrow, he would begin planning the approach to the most ambitious commission of his career—a weapon worthy of giants, created by a craftsman whose capabilities had begun to transcend normal human limitations.

The Iron Tyrant's defeat would be spectacular, witnessed by the kind of almost 2 meters claymore that existed previously only in fantasy novels. But soon, through the marriage of mythological enhancement and precisely applied engineering, it would become magnificent reality.

But now, he has more important things to do.