chsdbacks Chapter 1 Shahram's Blacksmith
Chapter 1 Shahram's Blacksmith
Shahramon is an independent human city-state located on the edge of the Enook Desert, built from large blocks of sandstone.
It's late June, the hottest time of the year.
The intense sunlight baked the ground and buildings, and during the day, the temperature in Shahramun could soar to 50 degrees Celsius.
In the large market of the lower city, a rhythmic clanging of metal echoed from a simple blacksmith's shop.
Dangdang Dangdang!
Isaac stood beside the forging table, his bare upper body revealing his angular, muscular physique and mottled scars. He continued to hammer the red-hot scimitar with a hammer, sweat dripping down his bronze skin.
Matthew the Sandwalker and the blacksmith chatted about the upcoming Midsummer Festival and the quadrennial Shield Festival.
The so-called Sandwalkers are adventurers who venture into the desert to explore the ruins left behind by the ancient Netheril Empire, the most powerful empire in the history of Faerûn. The undiscovered ruins contain endless wealth.
"I, the big blacksmith, will go to participate in the tournament held at this Shield Festival and win the title of 'Son of the Sun'."
Isaac paused for a moment, recalling some unpleasant memories.
Matthew the Sandwalker, standing to the side, raised the corners of his mouth, revealing an expression that suggested he wanted to laugh but couldn't, as if to say, "You think you can do that?"
The other person's expression provoked Isaac, who couldn't help but put down the hammer in his hand and slightly raise his proud head.
"Young adventurer, do you even know who I am?!"
"Oh? I didn't ask."
Matthew still wore an expression of suppressing a laugh, knowing that the middle-aged blacksmith in front of him loved to joke.
"Hmm~ I've been a Sandwalker since I was 13, then became a Sand Guardian at 18, and finally opened this blacksmith shop at 26."
"Besides, I was the runner-up in the last Shield Festival's tournament!"
Isaac was serious; he spoke with a solemn expression and resolute gaze, anticipating the other person's praise.
Matthew nodded, pretending to believe him, but in his heart he still thought the blacksmith was faking it and didn't believe that the blacksmith in front of him had ever won the runner-up in the competition.
"But boss, doesn't the Shield Festival tournament held by the city-state require participants to be under 30 years old?"
Matthew raised a question, and Isaac smiled slightly:
"I'm 30 this year. If I fail again this year, I'll get married and have children. I'll find a young woman of the Bountiful Descent to start a family."
"Big blacksmith, the sun protects you! I believe you can earn the title of 'Son of the Sun'."
Matthew couldn't hold it in any longer. After saying goodbye to the blacksmith, he left the blacksmith's shop and burst out laughing as soon as he reached the door.
Isaac looked helpless inside the shop, not expecting that no one would believe him even if he told the truth.
Having been reborn into this world for 30 years, he has long since given up on the naive idea of returning to Earth. Becoming the "Son of the Sun" is his last obsession.
The title of "Son of the Sun" refers to the champion of the tournament at the Shield Festival.
In addition to gaining fame and fortune, one can also receive energy from the solar disk, further enhancing one's strength.
Isaac skillfully forged the curved blade into its perfect shape, then quenched, sharpened, and fitted the handle with weights in one smooth motion.
I tried swinging it, and the center of gravity was perfect.
Shahramun would take a damp burlap sack and wipe away the sweat and grit from his body.
Whenever a strong wind blows, the sand and gravel in the wind will stick firmly to my sweaty skin. I've been used to it for many years and it doesn't feel awkward anymore.
-----------------
The arrival of Midsummer Festival plunged the entire desert city-state into revelry, filling it with an atmosphere of joy.
Meanwhile, Isaac was on his way to register for the Shield Festival.
The streets were paved with a layer of hard yellow rock slabs, and the entire city was almost entirely built with large blocks of sandstone.
The cries of vendors could be heard from both sides. The vendors, hiding in the shadows of the buildings, sold cheap shamai cakes and refreshing shamai coconuts.
The air was thick with the smells of sweat and camel dung—that was the environment in the lower part of the city.
A patrol of yellow sand guards passed by; they were strong and muscular, carrying spears and shields, and wearing vests and hard leather armor that exposed their arms.
One of the guards noticed the tall blacksmith in the crowd and couldn't help but take another look.
After all, Isaac's height was too conspicuous. Among pedestrians who were generally over 1.7 meters tall, he was a full two meters tall, almost as tall as a passing camel.
His face was rugged, his beard was messy, and his coarse linen shirt was open, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen and the gold holy emblem pendant on his chest.
With a heavy curved sword at his waist, you could feel his wild aura even from a distance.
"Isaac the big blacksmith, the runner-up in the last Shield Festival tournament, opened a blacksmith shop after refusing to be recruited by the army."
The squad leader of the Yellow Sand Guards noticed the new recruits' curious gazes and offered an explanation.
"Captain, do you know him?"
"He's my former captain, and he's probably preparing to register for the competition."
The squad leader chuckled awkwardly and waved to Isaac over there, which was considered a greeting.
He guessed correctly; Isaac was indeed preparing to go to register, and the location was the nearby arena.
Looking up, you can already see that magnificent, colossal building.
……
The arena is named after the independent city-state. Its outer walls are 38 meters high, and the arena appears oval when viewed from above. Inside, there are four tiers of seating.
(For reference only)
Normally, bloody gladiatorial matches are held here for people's amusement. Most of the gladiators are trained by the "Shadowborn," the lowest class in the city-state.
The city-state of Shahramun is almost entirely inhabited by the ancient sun god Amannatha, unlike the lord of the dawn, Losanda.
Amanatha is seen as the sun itself, representing order, law, and rule.
Los Santos, on the other hand, represents new life, light, and hope.
The divine authority of the two was close and intersected, so when Lossandra rose to power, this ancient sun god naturally declined.
Led by the descendants of the ancient gods, the city-state's humans were divided into four classes.
They are the descendants of gods who govern divine authority, sacrifices, and knowledge, and the descendants of warriors who govern the army, officials, and guards.
The Abundant Descendants, represented by merchants and farmers, and the Landcraft Descendants, mainly consisting of ordinary craftsmen and laborers.
As for the so-called "Shadowborn," they are the descendants of humans affected by the shadow power of the City of Shadows. Unfortunately, they are not protected by the city-state's solar laws.
In other words, in the eyes of the Shahramuns, they are not even human beings. Their status is lower than that of camels and sand dogs, and they can only do the hardest and dirtiest work.
In the rest of Faerûn, they were generally referred to as slaves.
Isaac is a descendant of the lowest class of earthworkers. Each class is like an insurmountable chasm, passed down through generations. The title of Son of the Sun is one of the few channels that can transcend class, and it is also his obsession.
Isaac was unwilling to spend his life at the bottom of society. With his own strength and ability, he was determined to break free from the shackles of his social status and become a nobleman in the city, enjoying all the riches and honors.
……
Upon entering the arena, we arrived at the wooden table in the corner where registration was being held.
Behind the wooden table sat a middle-aged clerk dressed in a plain-colored robe. He was probably of the Abundant race, with fair skin, which was quite different from the dark skin of the lower-class Earthworker and Shadow races.
"I remember you, Isaac Simonster."
"Here we go again? Are you sure you're not over the age limit?"
The clerk raised a question, after all, the soldier in front of him did not look very young, especially with his messy, unkempt beard.
"What are you talking about! I'm still a great guy."
Isaac pulled out a wooden tag from his lower back, which was his identification document. It contained his name, age, and class, and also bore the seal of the city hall.