Chapter 6 The Blacksmith

The Blacksmith was a master craftsman. He had been born to the trade. His father used to say molten steel ran through their veins. At nine years he had been formally apprenticed to an uncle and now, twenty five years later, not only did he have his own apprentices but four qualified Smiths and their apprentices all worked for him too. And in all his time he had never come across an order so peculiar and so particular as his New Clients’.

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Chapter 5 The Housekeeper

The Housekeeper had heard the explosions and had suspected the worse for his household.  He reckoned on being five or so miles away as he heard a series of thunderous blasts from the direction of the farm. He knew from recent experience that it wasn't the Gods’ wrath he was hearing but the magic powder of the wretched Shaman. It was supposed to be the Shaman’s wedding night.

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DW chpt. 4

It had been four summers since the veil had been lifted from her childish eye to reveal the true nature of her cruel world. In that time The Slave Girl had realised that people on the farm were more like the farm dogs than the docile Cows; the alpha roles were clear but every other role was fought over with bickering and bitching and sometimes literal blows.

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Dr When chapter 3

In all his years of military service and all his miles of crossing the empire he had never come across magic as powerful as the Shaman’s explosive leaves. In fact he never come across magic. He had met allot of people who had claimed to practice magic but he had always pegged them as charlatans and fraudsters but this man, the Farmer thought, he has a harness on something powerful like thunder.

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