At the break of dawn, Kallen and the other orcs trotted into the forge—clean, refreshed, and ready for another day of sweat and steel.
Kallen moved straight to his station by the furnace, where he began the steady rhythm of receiving ores, melting them down, and purifying their essence for the forge.
None of them knew—not yet—that he had already succeeded in forging something. It wasn't that he was trying to keep it a secret; he simply hadn't had another chance to replicate the process. And truthfully, a part of him preferred it this way.
No praise. No noise. No eyes watching too closely.
He wasn't eager to share that he had crafted an actual piece of equipment—his first true success. It wasn't that it meant nothing... no, it did.
If they found out, their belief in him would soar. They'd start calling him talented, perhaps even gifted. But to Kallen, that wouldn't change a thing.
