Solving the handles problem and another annoying summons

As soon as we arrived at the small courtyard in front of the open part of the building, I could see five different people in varying age smashing their hammers down on the anvils, with the small pieces of metal flying away from the metal rods heated to the point of taking a red colour. 

Just from the sheer muscles looking like taken out from some kind of culturist before being splashed with a thin layer of oil one could easily guess what trade they were in, even if someone hid all the tools that surround them. 

Out of the entire crowd, the oldest man with his beard and hair already grey was standing out with how focused he was on the task. Compared to him, most of the younger coworkers of his couldn't help but smile shyly while a group of young females gazed and their muscles from the corner of the open space. 

"Paying respect to the master of this smithy."