Daniel shielded his face as a hit from the hammer sent red-hot sparks into the air. He was fashioning a belt knife for himself, just long enough to be used for defense if necessary. On the larger forge, Jonas was beating out a horseshoe. Daniel grinned wryly; the younger man's boast of quick hands and a quicker mind had some truth to it. Ever since his last apprentice, Nyan, had returned to the village of his birth, Daniel had been hard-pressed to keep up with the demands of his own rather large community.

Biting the inside of his lip in concentration, Daniel returned to his work, not even noticing that someone had entered the smithy until Jonas shouted his name. Daniel looked up, noting the lean, rough profile of the stranger, and wiped his brow. His hand left a streak of dark soot on his forehead.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Daniel asked once the stranger was close enough to hear over Jonas' hammering.

"I was told you were the best sword-smith in the empire," the stranger replied, brown eyes sizing him up.

"And what would you want with a sword?" Daniel inquired, examining his own blade and nodding in satisfaction. He dipped it into a trough of cold water, and the other man had to wait until the steam subsided to answer.

"My last sword broke in battle, and I need a new one," the stranger gruffly explained.

"A knight?" Daniel said in surprise. He didn't hold much by others' bragging that he was the best smith in the empire, and it had been years since someone commissioned a full-length sword from him. The last knight to grace his forge with his presence had gone by the name of Kinsey. A ceremonial knight if there ever was one, son of a noble. Daniel's conscience had not let him sell anything less than his best, but oh how he had wanted to give the man a brittle, useless sword for his condescension.

"Yes." The stranger stared at him before asking, "How much will it cost?"

"That depends on the sword," Daniel began. "The length, what ornaments you want, and so on."

The stranger nodded. "How long will it take to make a standard longsword?"

"A couple days," Daniel answered thoughtfully. "Give or take. What was the length of your last blade?"

"Roughly six and a quarter handspans," supplied the stranger.

"And who, pray tell," Daniel asked dryly after a long silence only interrupted by the sounds of the bellows and metal-on-metal, "will I be making this longsword for?"

"Me," said the stranger, one eyebrow raised. Daniel looked at him expectantly. The stranger continued, "Jack O'Neill."

"Ah."

"I don't want any ornaments on my sword," Jack ordered. "Simple and useful. Sturdy, too."

"Well, I haven't had a complaint yet," Daniel replied wryly. "I make sturdy blades. Come back in four days. It should be done by then."

The knight nodded, and strode out of the smith. Jonas paused his work long enough to say, "He didn't look much like a knight."

"They don't always wear their armour, Jonas," Daniel replied, with a hint of reproach. Jonas ducked his head, and continued working on the horseshoes.

Daniel shook his head, not quite sure what to make of his gruff customer, and set about beginning the commissioned longsword.