"You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have."

I grew up working the farm with my parents, living in a small community that supplied food for the capital of Breim. I’d never been in the tunnels at this point, but I had seen the entrances. The one closest to my family’s farm was beautiful, carved with delicate swirls and designs, the stone manipulated to look like flowers so detailed if you touched them, they would feel real. That’s what brought me to the world of visual art. Specifically, designing. See, I’ve always loved the stories of old, the heroes with their swords defending against evil. But, mother never talked about what the swords looked like. Were they encrusted with gems? Or maybe decorated with color and engravings? She didn’t know, or at least never told me.

So when I could figure out how to hold a pencil, I started drawing those swords. Each one unique and based off of my favorite heroes. Soon I had all of my favorites drawn up, but I guess I didn’t stop there because I started drawing the villain’s weapons too. And then I made my own. And armor I reckoned, since they now had weapons, they might as well be protected somehow. 

Whenever I had some coin to spare, I would use it on buying cheap paper and pencils, using charcoal from fires to add some shading or color things. Even though I wasn’t the best at drawing, I always had those designs rattling around in my head and I needed them to be on paper so I didn’t forget. Which lead me to when the Master came through town.

I was 16 at the time, having made myself a collection of sketchbooks, each one filled to the brim with sword and armor designs. I think I had around 5 or 6 then, I don’t remember. I have much, much more now.

Anyways, a maker came to town, having been on a trip to Aodh, despite other’s fear of the people who worshiped fire. I learned later he was trying to learn the secrets of Incandescent steel. Cheeky little bugger, I’ll give him that. Our little collection of homes wasn’t large enough to warrant an inn at the time, so when travelers came our way, each family took a turn taking care of travelers, welcoming them into our own homes. Luckily for me, it was our household’s turn to take in the maker.

The maker came into our house and I have to say, he was huge and imposing at the time. Especially to me, since I wasn’t quite as tall as I am now. He was a hulking 17 hands, with a draft build and matching muscles. Mother was in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal while father was finishing up some things in the fields before the sun went to sleep. I was to keep the maker entertained while we waited for them. 

He introduced himself to me as Ryouta, a master of the blacksmithing arts. He wasn’t quite as good as an actual Master, but he still qualified since he was a maker. He also asked how I could work on a farm like this, with all the hard work and still look graceful when I walked. That was a little embarrassing for me at the time, having been a lanky foal when I was younger, now growing into a lighter feminine appearance. I had blushed at the comment, saying that I got the grace from my mother and her light frame.

And while I was distracted with the comment he threw at me, he was already looking through the bookshelf, already landed on my sketchbooks. I stammered, stumbling up to his side, awkwardly trying not to take them from his grip but also not wanting him to see my sketches. Fortunately, it was my lucky day and it turned out Ryouta was looking for a new apprentice, since his last few had either left or not passed the tests laid out for them.

He smiled at me, at my confused panicked face. Ryouta said I had a great many beautiful ideas floating around in my head and he was going to teach me how to make these sketches real steel and stone, something I’d been dreaming about since I’d been sketching. 

It was all up to my parents from there. After the evening meal, I broke the news to my parents, telling them how excited I was to become an apprentice. They were estatic! Their son, an official member of the Breim herd moving farther in the world than they could have ever hoped. Father pulled me aside before bedtime however, wanting to say some parting words before I departed in the morning. He told me that Sterling was just far enough away that they couldn’t visit all the time. I would have to come to them if I wanted to see them. He also said that even if I failed, I was always welcome back home. I didn’t want to fail him though, so I stood and nodded to him, determined to make my parents proud.

So, come morning, my new teacher and I set out for Sterling, the famed city of the New-Generation. It was only a two days journey to the city but I got to see things I’ve never seen before. So many equine, all in one place, each of them clad in brighter colors than the next. There was color and design and just LOUD things everywhere! And I enjoyed all of it, every second of those first few moments when I entered that city. Still, years have gone by, people have changed, but still, that “magic” is lingering for every new soul that enters.

Ryouta lead me to his shop a small but sturdy building, tall and homey. It was painted bright orange, cream, and white colors, a sign hanging outside with an anvil on it and the characters for Ryouta’s name. Clashing flowers in matching pots stood on either side of the doors, waving in the air while we passed through the threshold. It was… odd to say the least. I didn’t expect this large and strong horse living in a building like this, all bright and cheery despite being a metalworker.

The inside was almost as nice, decorated in muted tones like the ones outside, but more homey feeling, lived in. There was a counter, separating the front from the back of the shop. The back had swords and weapons of all matter and size, a huge assortment, some I’ve never seen or heard of before. On the right of the rack, stairs lead up to probably Ryouta’s room and quarters, while the left was a door, leading to the forge. The door had a frosted window set in it, letting a soft red glow in from the flames.

“Your room is up the stairs and to the left. Mine is on the right. Down the hallway is the dining area. You’ll start your training first thing in the morning, so don’t dawdle.”

Ryouta disappeared into the forge then, presumably leaving me to my own devices. Everything was so… new, and overwhelming. I always hoped to have something to strive for, to work for when I was younger, before this opportunity landed on me. I was happy I had found a place that was my passion, a place that would soon become a second home for me.

Young Adult: