The Greatest Blacksmith

"WAKE UP!"

An imposing yet familiar voice echoed in an adolescent boy's ears as he finally jolted from the bed.

The boy could feel not only his pants wet but also the white shirt he was currently wearing. The bed was completely drenched too.

'Did I pee?'

As he scrambled to gather his thoughts, the boy finally noticed why he was wet in the first place.

The source of the voice,

He was a formidable figure, towering and imposing with his large, muscular build. His bulky muscles rippled beneath his fair skin, which bore the marks of countless battles. Scars crisscrossed his body, each one a testament to his resilience and experience in combat. 

His red hair, shoulder-length and untamed, framed his rugged face, adding to his fierce and powerful aura. A bushy beard of the same fiery hue covered his chin, giving him a wild, almost mythical appearance.

Despite the harshness of his scars, there was a certain raw handsomeness to him, a primal strength that commanded respect and admiration.

The man was holding a bucket, small drops of what the young boy assumed was water dripping from the bucket and making contact with the ceramic floor.

"All you do is sleep all day, with nothing to do," the voice coming from the boy's father hissed yet again.

"But not anymore, get Loren to dress you up and once you are done with your breakfast meet me at the Entrance,"he added to his previous scold.

"And clean up the drops of water on the floor and take off those wet smelly bed sheets," the father added.

'Why should I clean up?'the boy thought still maintaining a neutral face.

If his father saw even the slightest expression of anger, he'll be hitting the horses stable for a week.

But he wasn't surprised, his father was always like that.

Not to particularly every single person in the household, just the boy alone.

Their realtionship changed drastically and was never the same since the boy's mother died when he was thirteen, that was around two years ago.

The boy walked over slowly to his bed cursing at his old man as he left the boy's room.

While the boy was removing the bed sheets he heard another voice in the hallway and immediately knew who it was.

"Oh, Serina you're awake...I had gone to wake the boy up myself..."

"A pig's sty is much better than where that boy sleeps..." the father continued his voice gradually fading across the hallway.

By the time the boy had gone to the wall to listen on what his father was saying, a woman had walked in.

"What are you doing?" the woman's voice echoed in the boy's room.

"Uhh...nothing, I thought I heard rats," the boy was quick to come up with an excuse.

"In the walls?" the woman asked rasing on of her eye brows.

She was an arresting vision of elegance and allure. Her rich, brown hair cascaded in lustrous waves, framing her face with an effortless grace. Her golden eyes sparkled with a warm, inviting glow, exuding a mysterious charm that drew you in.

Her plump, silky lips were a perfect shade of deep red, soft and full, hinting at both sensuality and sophistication.

Her figure was voluptuous, her ample breasts almost spilling out of the sleek black designer dress she wore.

The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, a masterpiece of haute couture that accentuated her femininity. Draped over her arms was a pristine white woolen scarf, a subtle yet unmistakable emblem of her affluent status.

The luxurious fabric contrasted beautifully against the black of her dress, adding a touch of softness to her otherwise striking appearance.

Every detail about her spoke of refined taste and opulence, from the subtle shimmer of her jewelry to the poised way she carried herself.

She was a living embodiment of beauty and wealth, a woman who commanded attention and admiration with her presence.

But the boy knew all too well the type of woman she was. Even though she was his step-mother, the boy had no respect for her.

'Still can't believe the old man re-married,' the boy thought.

Serina on the other hand loved the boy like he was his own and always tried to get on his good books.

"Some rats are just built different to the point of even traversing the walls," the boy said with no emotion whatsoever.

"Look, Ravan-"

"Can you please leave my room, father asked me to clean it and you very well know what its like if one doesn't heed to his words," Ravan had cut Serina before she could finish her statement.

"Oh, okay, we will talk later then," Serina said as she left Ravan's room her head facing down.

Ravan knew he had slightly hurt her feelings but he could care less, anyone who wasn't his mom got the same nonchalant treatment from him.

'She's finally gone,'Just as Ravan had thought so, two other people burged into his room.

"Father was right, it smells horrible in here," One of them said.