The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Clang! Clang! Clang!

This was the rhythm of the Street of Steel at night.

Many blacksmiths hammered iron even in the middle of the night.

In some busy seasons, like when taking on a job from a mercenary band, it was common for blacksmith shops to work all night long.

But there was one exception.

There was a famous blacksmith shop on the Street of Steel whose master was named Tobho Mott. He was the only one among the hundreds of blacksmith masters in King's Landing who could infuse pigments into steel.

Tobho Mott was the only one with this technique of creating weapons in the colors specified by the customer.

Tobho Mott's blacksmith shop never took orders at night, nor did it forge weapons or armor at night.

He rested at night.

This was his rule, and Tobho's weapons were also the most expensive on the Street of Steel.

Whether it was longswords, daggers, short knives, or helmets, gorgets, armor, leg guards, front and back breastplates, they were all more expensive than elsewhere.

Few mercenaries could afford a full set of armor; many could only afford a helmet, along with some gorgets and leg guards.

Nevertheless, many people came to Tobho's blacksmith shop to buy weapons and armor.

Tobho had a great reputation.

Tobho Mott had a blacksmith apprentice named Gendry.

Gendry was fourteen years old this year, but he had the height of an adult man. His muscles were strong, his lips were thick, he was powerfully built, and he had blue eyes and a thick head of black hair.

Although Tobho Mott wanted to drink and sleep at night, that didn't mean his apprentice could do the same.

Gendry had to forge iron billets at night.

The quality of the iron billet was directly related to the quality of the weapon or armor.

If other blacksmith shops forged an iron billet a hundred times, Tobho's requirement for Gendry was three hundred times.

An iron billet that others would shape and pass after a hundred strikes, Tobho required to be worked two hundred more times.

The work of forging iron billets was very hard. Every swing of the hammer required Gendry to use all his strength and skill.

Although Gendry was only fourteen years old, he was already a true master of forging iron billets and crafting various weapons, and he had secretly learned Master Tobho's technique of forging colored weapons.

His master never explained anything about weapon crafting to Gendry; Gendry had to watch, think, ponder, and experiment on his own.

There had been no verbal transmission of weapon crafting techniques between the two masters and apprentices for many years.

But Gendry learned better and faster than any other apprentice in any other blacksmith shop.

This child had a talent for ironworking, appearing rough on the surface but being meticulous at heart.

Without exception, Gendry continued to forge iron billets after his master had comfortably fallen asleep.

He had to work until midnight before he could sleep.

All the dirty work, hard work, chores, and basic tasks in the blacksmith shop were undertaken by Gendry alone. Unless a customer specifically requested Master Tobho to craft a weapon himself, even customer orders were now completed solely by Gendry.

Master Tobho would just watch from the side, holding his teacup, without saying a word.

In the beginning, if the weapons Gendry crafted were not acceptable to the customer, Gendry himself had to start over, squeezing out time from his meals to work overtime and redo them.

The arduous life had forged Gendry into a physique that surpassed his peers, and it had also given him tremendous strength. At the same time, perhaps due to the furnace fire and his master's cold silence, Gendry had developed a very stubborn personality.

He was becoming increasingly stubborn, whether towards customers or his master.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Master Tobho slept soundly and sweetly in the sound of Gendry's forging of iron billets.

Blacksmiths were accustomed to sleeping comfortably in the loud sounds of hammering iron.

The residents of the Street of Steel were also accustomed to the blacksmiths' incessant clanging day and night.

But there must be some who were not accustomed to it.

Just as Gendry was engrossed in forging iron billets, someone knocked on the blacksmith shop's door.

The blacksmith shop's door would not be closed before Gendry went to sleep.

Tap, tap, tap!

Someone was knocking on the door.

Gendry grunted and remained silent, continuing to forge his iron billet.

He had seen more and more mercenaries and tyrannical people, but he simply ignored them. He only focused on doing his own work. Collecting money, discussing business, and receiving guests were all his master's affairs and had nothing to do with him, Gendry.

Who would come knocking on Master Tobho's blacksmith shop door at this time? Did they not know Tobho's rule of never taking orders at night? Since they didn't know the rules, they were not experienced mercenaries or city guards, but just a novice soldier, a greenhorn who didn't understand the rules.

Gendry ignored both veterans and recruits.

He continued to hammer his iron billet, strike after strike. His shoulder muscles, glistening with sweat in the light of the furnace fire, shone like gold.

His figure was a work of art with perfect muscle lines.

Someone's eyes were staring intently.

He loved those strong, perfect muscle lines.

This person's eyes were staring brightly, like a cat's eyes in the dark night.

He wanted to soak Gendry's entire body in a large wine vat and turn him into a work of art.

The person who had silently entered the blacksmith shop was Ser Polliver Clegane from the neighboring inn.

He had knocked on the door several times, but the fellow in the blacksmith shop didn't even look up, hear, or pay attention.

It wasn't until Polliver's hand touched the knotted muscles of Gendry's back that Gendry suddenly turned his head, his eyes wide with anger: "What?"

Gendry's personality was like the iron billet under his hammer.

The higher his blacksmithing skills, the stronger his stubborn personality became, tempered like a shaped iron billet, strong and hard.

"Such perfect muscles," Polliver's eyes gleamed, and he licked his lips with his tongue, looking very lewd.

"No orders at night," Gendry said sullenly.

He felt that this bald, tall man was not normal, but like a crazy person who should be locked up.

Gendry feared nothing, but he was afraid of mentally unstable people.

Polliver looked Gendry up and down, making admiring tsk-tsk sounds.

He walked around Gendry several times.

"Ser Polliver," a voice said at the door, "You have to tell this kid to stop hammering and pay us money. He's disturbing the rest of the Lord and the brothers. The Lord is still waiting for our reply."

Polliver's eyes flickered, as if he had returned to reality from a hazy fantasy. He remembered the words Lord Gregor had instructed, which was an order he had to complete.

He stared at Gendry's muscles reluctantly.

"Boy, the sound of your hammering is disturbing our Lord's rest. You pay us ten gold dragons and stop hammering, and we'll call it even."

Gendry's bull-like eyes widened instantly. He looked Polliver up and down, not saying a word, and suddenly swung his hammer, striking the iron billet with a clang. If Polliver hadn't dodged quickly when the hammer swung, he would have been grazed by it.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

With three consecutive hammer blows, Gendry hammered even harder on the iron billet, then squinted at Polliver, full of disdain.

Polliver's eyes went wide again. He was once again conquered by the muscular tension and perfect muscle lines of Gendry swinging the hammer.

He fell in love with Gendry's body, which contained explosive power.

Tap, tap, tap!

Several cavalrymen with evil auras, fierce looks, and cruel gazes walked in. The three loud hammer blows of Gendry's provocation had not angered Polliver, but they had enraged them.

A mere blacksmith apprentice dared to defy them.

They were Lord Mountain's men.