With the forge coming up to temperature, Jim started laying out his equipment, the small hammer at the end of the table. He paused as his eyes came to it, still unsure while being fully drawn to it.

"Well, it's not like they're going to win anyway," Jim muttered to himself, grabbing the hammer from the table.

In a week's time, the Quartermaster pulled through town, stopping by Jim's shop and calling him out. The soldiers were tired, their demeanor befitting of those, knowing their war would soon be over. Even the Quartermaster on his horse was clearly disheveled. The man, usually groomed and looking the part of a career soldier waiting for his next promotion, was dirty, unshaved, and even failed to discipline his troops when they dropped their packs without orders.

"Good morning, sir!" Jim chimed out, more cheerily than usual.

"And to you," the Quartermaster almost growled. "Just get it loaded in the wagon. We need to be off quickly. McClellan is planning and attack and we need all the help we can get."

Jim was surprised he was being told about Union plans, but what good is keeping secrets anymore anyway. He motioned to the soldiers to grab the bundles and help him load up the equipment. It took a few minutes, but eventually the cart was full and Jim walked up to the Quartermaster and handed him the ledger.

"500 sets of horseshoes, 100 sabers, and 300 bayonets, all accounted for. And sir, if I do say so myself, this may be my best work yet" Jim said dryly, knowing he was about to lose the next few hours as the soldiers counted and recounted their order.

"Very well, here's your payment," the Quartermaster said as he signed the ledger.

Jim was taken aback, almost not even realizing the caravan had already started to depart. He realized the situation must be even worse than he realized and ran to catch up once his stupor wore off.

"Sir! Did you not have another order for me?" Jim asked breathlessly as he caught up to the wagon.

"We won't need another order if we're all dead."

Jim stopped and watched on, muttering a silent prayer for the doomed men.

A month went by with no real news on the war until eventually a newspaper from the city came through town. Somewhere out East, the Union had won a hard fought victory near a town called Antietam. Apparently, this could be a major turning point in the war, but for Jim, nothing had changed.

Jim had returned to his normal duties, but this time everything seemed... easier. His work was just better, and it wasn't nearly as difficult. He was taking a break from his work as he saw a small band crest over the hill. He could only identify them by the time he realized they were heading directly for his workshop. He recognized the Quartermaster's unmistakable sideburns and was impressed by the extra stripe he wore on his sleeve.

"Good day, Jim! I hope you enjoyed your break, but I pray you are ready to get back to work," the Quartermaster said as a smile spread across his face.

"Of course, sir. I heard the news about the battle. Congratulations on the victory!"

"The thanks should be given to you! Your equipment made all the difference. I know it may seem arbitrary, but I ensured all the shoes and sabers went to a single cavalry regiment, the same for the bayonets. Our men claim their horses sped faster than ever, their blades cut through rifles and steel, and that every bayonet struck true. I wouldn't have believed it had I not read the reports. The men we outfitted with your equipment saw the last amount of casualties and were the most effective units on the field! Whatever you do, Mr. Jim, do not put away that hammer!

His words struck Jim to the core. Jim realized that there must be something he had missed that day at Rusty's shop. Something must have been said or implied, and Rusty must know about it. He hadn't been to the shop since that day and knew he had to talk to him right away.

"I'm sorry sir, I have an urgent matter to attend to. You can discuss the details with my assistant, and I will be back with you as soon as I can," Jim stammered out.

Jim could feel the eyes on him as he ran toward the town, but he couldn't care less as he was driven by a singular purpose. Breathlessly, he burst through the door and locked eyes with Rusty. He could see the initial burst of anger dissipate, and a sly smile came over Rusty's face.

"What can I do you for Jim?" Rusty asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm keeping the hammer," Jim blurted out, realizing he hadn't planned on what else to say.

"I'm glad you like it."

"What do you know about it? You must know something?" Jim was almost hyperventilating at this point, the need to understand consuming him.

Rusty stares at Jim for a few moments, contemplating his next move. He seems to make a decision and walks up to Jim. Jim recoils but realizes that Rusty is putting his arm over his shoulder. Rusty motions to the back room, and they walk in together.

The room is extremely dark, save for one corner lit up by a small candle. Amidst the dancing shadows, Jim can make out what looks to be a decent sized forge and a small book placed on top. Rusty grabs the book and hands it to Jim, the pages filled with a language he had never seen. Jim looks awestruck through the pages and around the room and is pulled from his reverie once Rusty begins to speak.

"What do you know of Hephaestus?"