The Artificer’s Apprentice

I never expected to become an apprentice artificer.

And I certainly didn’t expect to be left without a home at sixteen.

When my mother died, the house I lived in made it clear I was no longer wanted. So I left - before I could be told to. With no plan beyond finding work, food, and a place where I wouldn’t be in the way, I traveled south in search of an apprenticeship that would let me stay.

What I found was a gruff old artificer who insisted he didn’t need help, didn’t take students, and definitely didn’t care about a scrawny boy with nowhere else to go. He lied about all of that - but only in the way masters always do.

Artificery isn’t about heroics or grand magic. It’s about tools, patience, and learning to do things properly. I start at the very bottom: sweeping floors, feeding animals, forging the same tools again and again until my hands finally understand what my mind cannot. Progress comes slowly - but it comes.

As I learn to craft, repair, and build, I begin to realize something unexpected: I’m not just earning skills. I’m earning a place. A routine. A life that doesn’t feel temporary.

Now, all that’s left is to survive my apprenticeship, improve my craft one careful step at a time, and protect the new life I’ve started to build.