Ten Silver Coins

He stepped inside, inhaling the smoke from the forge and feeling the heat on his skin.

The scent of heated metal and the sound of the creaking worn floor added to the ambiance. He neared the heart of the workshop with purpose. 

Approaching the anvil, his fingers traced its surface, 'Beautiful'.

Its broad, flat face bore the imprint of countless creations, evidence of Roland's skill and the anvil's enduring toughness. 'Stubborn, just like Roland'

Turning, 'There you are' his eyes found Roland's hammer. The head, a formidable mass of hardened steel, gleamed with a patina of heat-induced hues, ranging from fiery oranges to deep purples.

Impatience surged through him, suffocating him with anticipation. He gripped the handle of the hammer. 'It's heavier than I thought.' And without a moment's delay, he carried it over to the anvil.

He raised the hammer high above his head.

As the hammer ascended, time seemed to suspend in anticipation.

His silhouette, outlined by the flickering flames, etched an imposing figure against the backdrop of the pulsating forge.

His eyes gleamed with a fiery intensity that mirrored the furnace at his side.

Then, with a resolute exhale, just like he had seen Roland do hundreds of times, he brought the hammer down in a controlled descent, a forceful arc that cleaved through the air.

*CLANG*

The collision with the hot iron below resonated through the workshop, a symphony of metal meeting metal, punctuated by the crackling protest of sparks escaping into the air.

His arms became a manifestation of controlled power, striking the hot iron on the anvil with vigor.

...

As Roland neared his workshop, he became more and more confused. 'What's going on?' Not only were the villagers giving him strange looks and gathering around his workshop, but there was also the sound of metal hitting metal echoing out of it.

'Another blacksmith? Using my workshop?'

The villagers made way for him as he strolled closer to the entrance, curiosity burning in their eyes.

Entering the workshop, his eyes widened. 'Is that...me?'

Standing in his workshop, beating down hot iron with his hammer, was a replica of himself, the only difference being the blue eyes and the weird air around him.

He stepped into the workshop, his gaze fixed on the figure in front of him.

"Who are you?"

*CLANG*

But the figure in front of him continued hammering. After a couple moments of silence, apart from the sound of metal hitting against metal, without turning, the figure spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Ten silver coins"

"..What?" Roland asked, feeling even more bewildered.

"Ha! You see how insufferable you are?" The laughter of one of the men resounded.

The confusion on Roland's face intensified; his brows furrowed tightly. He was unaware of what the men were talking about.

"Hmph, he said the same thing to me this morning," came another voice as the man harrumphed, speaking in a sour tone.

That's when he realized he often said this when people entered his shop but didn't make a purchase. Most of his swords and similar items cost around 10 silver coins. The high price would either discourage them or signal them to make a quick decision and buy something.

But that wasn't the only thing he noticed.

Looking at the figure's technique, he felt insulted. He could tell from a glance that they were an amaetur; his strikes lacked essence; he was simply hitting metal against metal; he had yet to truly become one with the hammer and anvil.

Using his face and tools for such a display was nothing short of a mockery.

"Hmm. He looks like Roland, but his air is...different."

"Looking at them together like this, it's easy to see which is the real one."

"Right"

"I wonder though, how are his skills as a blacksmith?"

"Who cares about that right now? The magician must be aware of how much Roland dislikes being distracted from his work, yet he keeps mocking him."

"He's directly challenging Roland!"

And they were right; if there was one thing Zhihui had learned about Roland, it was that nothing seemed to bother him. He rarely showed emotion, and eliciting a reaction from him was nearly impossible.

Unless you interfered with his craft.

Staring daggers at the figure, Roland's expression twisted.

"Get out"

He exclaimed with anger threatening to erupt at any moment.

Truth be told, as a man of few words who rarely interacted with people, he didn't really know how to react to this situation.

Faced with such a strange occurrence, his only thought was, 'I need to get back to work'.

Perhaps he could intimidate his replica and hopefully return to his craft.

Unfortunately, the response he received was:

*CLANG*

Zhihui continued hammering, unperturbed by whatever was happening around him.

"Put the hammer down," he said once more, but this time his tone had taken a turn.

*CLANG* *CLANG*

The sound of metal against metal reverberated through the workshop as Zhihui persisted with his hammering.

Right now he was Roland. Would Roland stop his endless craft and put down the hammer because someone told him to?

The answer was no.

 As the atmosphere slowly turned tense, some of the townspeople began to move away from the workshop. Although they joked about it, they didn't really expect the supposed magician to continue his act.

It was common knowledge that when someone who is usually quiet and calm gets angry, all hell breaks loose.

Others were excited at potentially seeing Roland fight the magician.

With every strike of the hammer, the air grew tense. Roland, stationed there with veins visibly pulsating on his forehead, parted his lips and commanded once again.

"Get out, now."

His voice was rough and strained, oozing with anger.

*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*

Watching him continue, his already low patience began to dwindle. Emptying out soon after.

With a swift and determined movement, he snatched a spare hammer from its resting place, his fingers wrapping around the handle with a vice-like grip.

The steel in his gaze matched the tool he now wielded as he surged forward, propelled by the surge of frustration that had been building within him.

Closing in on his replica with focused intent, he raised the hammer. The polished metal gleamed in the light as anticipation hung in the air, a prelude to the impending strike.

The hammer descended with relentless force, its metal head cleaving through the air with a resounding whoosh before meeting its target in a thunderous impact.

*CLAAAAANGGGG*