Hewkii & Ferril
Ferril
Hewkii, ever noticed how the steel remembers the weight of every swing? I can feel its pulse, but you wouldn't understand the tempering ritual.
Hewkii
Yeah, I feel that same sting in my gut when I swing. The metal's memory is like a stubborn friend—always remembering every beat. Trust me, I've seen a tempering ritual or two, and it’s a wild dance of heat and chill. Keep your hand steady, and we'll honor that pulse together.
Ferril
Fine, but if you let that metal quiver, I’ll have to start from scratch. I don’t do second‑rate heat‑treatments. Keep the torch steady, or you’ll find me at the forge, yelling at the blade like it’s a stubborn child.
Hewkii
Got it, boss. I’ll keep the flame steady, no quivering. If you get mad at the blade, I’ll stand by—just make sure you don’t swing the torch like a drunken knight. We'll finish it together, no second‑rate heat, only pure fire.
Ferril
Fine, but you’ll need more than bravado to keep that flame steady. If the steel’s not singing, I’ll take it back and hammer it until it obeys. No excuses, no half‑measures.
Hewkii
You got it, boss. I’ll keep that torch steady, and if the steel still refuses to sing, we’ll hammer it together until it obeys. No excuses, no half‑measures, just pure steel and honor.
Ferril
Alright, that’s the spirit. Keep the torch low, keep the rhythm tight, and if the metal still mutters, I’ll take a hammer and shape it into obedience. This blade will have to honor its own spirit.
Hewkii
Sounds like a plan, boss. I’ll keep the flame low, the rhythm tight, and if that stubborn steel keeps muttering, you’ll see me with a hammer in hand, making it bow to us both. We'll give this blade the honor it deserves.