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THE HUMBLE SHARPERED

THE HUMBLE SHARPERED

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5 Chapters
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The story is about a young man who is known for his commitment to his work

Contents

Chapter 1 A Quiet Beginning

In the small village of Eldergrove, nestled between towering oak trees and meandering streams, lived a man named Corwin. He wasn't a knight, nor a scholar, nor a merchant of fine wares. Instead, Corwin was known as the humble sharpered. His trade was simple, yet profound: he sharpened blades. Knives, axes, sickles, swords-anything with an edge, he could make it sharper than new.

Each morning, he would set up his stall in the village square, an unassuming wooden cart with a worn grindstone. The cart wasn't much to look at, but the sound of the stone grinding against metal was enough to make the villagers pause. There was a calm certainty in that sound-a promise that the tool would work better once Corwin had done his work.

His reputation had spread quietly. No one knew exactly how Corwin had learned the art, though some whispered that it was a secret passed down by an old hermit deep in the forest. What mattered, though, was that Corwin's blades were unparalleled. Farmers, hunters, bakers, and craftsmen would all queue up, waiting their turn to have their dull tools brought back to life.

Despite the respect Corwin had earned, the villagers knew little of his story. He was an enigma-quiet, humble, with no family to speak of. He lived alone in a small cottage at the edge of the village, his days filled with the steady rhythm of sharpening.

One morning, just as Corwin was preparing for another day, a newcomer arrived in Eldergrove. A merchant from the city, dressed in fine clothes, carrying a beautifully ornate sword. His name was Varek, and he had heard rumors of Corwin's skill.

"I've come to test your craft," Varek announced arrogantly. "I've heard you can make any blade sharp again. This sword," he said, holding it aloft, "has been with my family for generations. It is dull now, but I trust it will be sharp once more."

Corwin studied the sword carefully, his eyes calm. It was a fine weapon, certainly-engraved with intricate designs and gems along the hilt. But there was something off about it. It wasn't just dull because of age; it had never truly been used. This sword, despite its beauty, had spent its days as a symbol of wealth, not a tool of action.

"Why do you want this sword sharpened?" Corwin asked gently.

Varek sneered. "It is a family heirloom. A weapon of great value."

Corwin nodded but didn't speak. Instead, he gestured for Varek to leave the sword with him. "I will sharpen it for you, but you must return tomorrow to collect it."

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