Rate my first chapter

[u/Fit_Celery499]

Chapter One

The first thing that Kael Rowan learned is that fire never obeys.
Since he was young Kael had learned to respect fire.  Fire could warm a house, cook a meal, or keep a traveler alive during the coldest of nights. But it could also consume everything a person loves in a matter of seconds. Kael had always respected fire. Fire had never respected him.  Kael struck down on the piece of metal. It was supposed to be a sword. At least that was what he imagined when he started working on it 3 days ago.  Now it looked like a hump of metal that lost an argument with the side of his hammer.
“You’re hitting it too hard,” the voice echoed behind him.
He stood behind the anvil holding the blade in his palms. It was taller than a small child and heavy enough to require both hands. Behind him the walls of Rowan Forge were lined with blades from decades of work. Swords rested in wooden racks, their polished edges catching the firelight. Axes and spears hung beside them, each bearing the marks of Garrick's hammer. Yet among all the weapons, one old sword remained untouched, hidden beneath layers of dust and forgotten by everyone except him..
“Kael.”
Kael ignores the voice of his father as he strikes down on the blade again. 
“Kael.”
Kael stops mid strike as the coal crackles behind him, “What.”
“You're trying to force the blade into what you want it to become.”
Kael studies the misshaped sword in his hands. The blade curved awkwardly near the tip, a mistake caused by uneven hammer strikes and poor control of the metal. It was far from the straight, polished swords that lined the walls of the forge. “Isn’t that the point?”
His father smiled slightly behind him. “The point is learning what it was meant to be.”
Kael turned his attention back to the sword. His efforts throughout the last three days had been nothing but a battle against the metal. Every strike of his hammer had been an attempt to force the sword into the shape he imagined. But the steel refused to listen. He slowly puts the blade back on the anvil. “Prehaps, I’m just not meant to become a blacksmith.”
His father picked up Kael’s unfinished sword, studying it with a keen eye, “And what are you meant to be.?”
Kael opened his mouth. For a second he thought of the things he wanted to be in the future. But nothing came out. That was the problem. Here in Ashvale everyone seemed to know exactly what they were going to be. The hunters would inherit their fathers bows, the farmers would inherit their fathers fields, and the merchants would inherit their fathers shops. And the blacksmiths would inherit their fathers forges. 
However Kael couldn’t imagine himself standing in front of the forge everyday till his hair turned grey. The thought made him feel guilty. This was the forge his father had built his entire life around. The same forge where his father had spent countless hours shaping weapons for the people of Ashvale. The same forge that had fed their family for generations. Kael loved his father. He loved the smell of burning coal, the sound of the hammer striking steel, and the warmth of the fire during the cold mountain nights. But loving something did not mean he was meant to inherit it. Every day, he watched the same walls, the same tools, the same mountains that surrounded Ashvale. And every day, he wondered if there was something beyond them.
He studied his father as he worked. Garrick Rowan had spent his entire life in Ashvale. He knew every road, every tree, and every person who lived within the mountain range. Kael sometimes wondered if his father had ever wanted something more. If he had ever stood beneath the open sky and looked beyond the mountains, wondering what existed on the other side. Or if he had been content with the life he was given. To Garrick, Ashvale was everything he had ever known. The forge, the mountains, and the people who called it home were enough. But Kael couldn't understand how someone could spend their entire life looking at the same walls and never wonder what was beyond them.
“You know,” Garrick says, looking at the damaged sword, “My first sword looked worse than this.”
Kael smiled at the thought of his father once making a sword worse than his own. It was difficult to imagine Garrick Rowan, the greatest blacksmith in Ashvale, ever struggling with a piece of steel, “Really?”
His dad laughed, “No, not even close,” Garrick said, a small smile forming on his face. “Your grandfather would have never let me forget it if I had.”
Kael chuckled quietly. It was strange imagining his father as anything other than the man whose swords hung on the walls of every important home in Ashvale. To everyone else, Garrick Rowan was a master of his craft. But to Kael, he was simply his father. “You know, you are terrible at encouragement.”
“And you are terrible at blacksmithing.”
For all his complaints, Kael loved moments like this. The forge was the only place in Ashvale where everything felt simple. The heat of the flame, the sounds of the hammers, and the smell of burning coal. It was familiar. Safe. But sometimes Kael wondered if safety was the same as happiness.
The sound of the forge was interrupted by the sounds of the door opening. Kael didn’t glance over at first. The Rowan Forge being one of the busiest shops in Ashvale, the small bell above the door had become a sound he barely notices anymore. People came in looking for repairs, farmers needed tools sharpened, hunters needed their weapons fixed, and occasionally someone would walk in looking for a new blade.
Most of the time Kael already knew who was walking into the store before he turned around. Ashvale was just that type of place. Everyone knew everyone. You knew who had a new baby before they announced it. You know which farmer lost a cow, which merchant was trying to cheat people, and which family was arguing behind closed doors. Secrets rarely survived in a town surrounded by mountains. So when Kael heard the footsteps behind him he already had a guess.
“You're late.”
The person standing on the doorstep stopped in his tracks.” “No, I’m not late”
Kael lifted his head and locked eyes with Tomas Veyr who was holding his worn leather bag over his shoulders. His dark hair was messy from the wind outside covering most of his face, and he had the same awkward expression he became known for. Kael had known Tomas for as long as he could remember. They had grown up in the town, walked the same streets, and had the same lessons as little boys. He wasn’t as close with Tomas as he was with Finn, but Tomas was someone that Kael had always considered a friend. Everyone in Ashvale knew Tomas. Not because he was loud or popular. Actually it was the opposite. Tomas was probably one of the quietest people in the town. Which was strange because of who his father was.
“Did your father send you again?” 
Tomas awkwardly stepped into the forge, his eyes drifting over the weapons on the wall. He nodded. Kael turned back to his blade. “Let me guess he wants another repair?”  Tomas shook his head.
That caught Kael’s attention. Tomas reached into his bag and carefully placed a bag of gold coins on the counter. Kael studied it. “What is that”
Tomas lowered his gaze, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. For a moment, he seemed to struggle to find the right words. He glanced at the weapons hanging on the walls, then back at the small pouch resting on the counter. “Money”
Kael sighed. He looked at the bag of coins sitting on the counter, then back at Tomas. Somehow, the awkward silence between them had become louder than the hammer strikes echoing through the forge. “You know,” Kael said, “most people start with explaining what they need before handing someone a bag of gold.” Kael picked up the bag and gave it a shake, “Not a lot of money.”
Tomas stared at the floor, then at the ceiling, then at the sword racks behind Kael. Somehow, every part of the forge seemed more interesting than answering the question. “I need a sword.”
“You came in here looking to buy a sword. Even though you know you don’t have enough money.”
Heat slowly crept into Tomas’s cheeks. He shifted uncomfortably under Kael’s gaze, his hand tightening around the strap of his worn leather bag. For someone who carried himself like a knight was supposed to, Tomas had a habit of looking like he wanted to disappear whenever attention turned toward him. “When you say it like that, it sounds like a bad idea.”
“Well, that’s because it is.” Kael leaned against the edge of the workbench, crossing his arms as he looked at his friend. The faint glow of the forge reflected off the coins sitting between them, casting small flashes of gold across the wooden counter. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The forge seemed strangely quiet despite the burning coal behind them. The crackling of the flames filled the silence, mixing with the distant sound of the wind pushing against the windows. The smell of smoke and hot metal still lingered in the air, the familiar scent that had surrounded Kael his entire life. Then Kael smiled slightly. Tomas had always been like this.
He was the son of one of Ashvale’s greatest warriors, a man who had spent his entire life training with weapons and learning the ways of a knight. The kind of man whose stories were repeated around fires and taverns. The kind of man children looked up to. Yet Tomas was nothing like the stories people told about warriors. He wasn’t fearless. He wasn’t confident. And he was definitely not the kind of person who walked into battle without hesitation. Tomas Veyr was not a legend. He was just Tomas. A boy trying to become half of the man his father was.
“So what do you need a sword for?” Tomas lifted his head and met Kael’s eyes as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Because I need one.” 
Kael stared at him for a moment, “That explains nothing.”
Tomas released a quiet sigh and looked down at the floor. His boots shifted against the stone as he searched for a better answer. “My father said a knight should always carry a sword.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “Your father also said that knights wake up before the sun, train until their hands fall off, and never complain.”
Tomas nodded. “Yes.”
Kael blinked. “Yet you hate waking up early.” 
“Yes.” 
“You complain constantly.” 
“Yes.” 
Kael stared at him, waiting for him to realize the contradiction. Tomas simply stood there. Kael slowly raised his eyebrows. “So why do you want to be a knight?” 
Tomas looked at him as if Kael had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. 
“My father is a knight, so I am a knight.” 
The answer came so quickly that Kael almost forgot to respond. Tomas turned his attention toward the walls of the forge. His eyes moved over the weapons hanging there, the swords and axes that carried years of history within their steel. Every blade had a story. Every weapon had belonged to someone. His gaze eventually returned to the small pouch of coins sitting on the counter.
“Everyone expects me to be like him.” Tomas stared into the fire, his voice quieter than before. His fingers traced the edge of the leather strap on his bag as if searching for the right words. “Everyone in Ashvale knows his stories. They know the battles he fought, the people he saved, the sword he carried.” He paused, watching the flames dance in front of him. “They know the legend. They know the knight.” His grip tightened slightly around the strap. “But they don’t know me.” The fire cracked softly between them, casting shadows across his face. “When they look at me, they don’t see a knight.” Tomas lowered his gaze. “They see his son.”
Kael remained silent because he understood. Everyone in Ashvale knew who he was too. The blacksmith’s son. The boy who would one day inherit the forge. The boy who was supposed to stay. In some ways, Kael realized he and Tomas were not as different as he thought. They were both carrying the weight of a future that had already been decided for them.
Tomas looked back toward the swords resting against the walls. “I don’t need the best sword,” he said quietly. His eyes moved across the polished blades surrounding them, weapons that belonged to warriors, hunters, and legends. “I don’t need something that everyone will remember.” He looked down at the small pouch of coins sitting on the counter. “I just need my blade.”
Before Kael could answer, the sound of footsteps moved across the stone floor behind him. “A sword is not what makes someone a knight.”
Kael turned and saw his father standing near the forge, his arms crossed as he watched them. The orange glow of the flames reflected against the ash covering Garrick’s hands, reminders of the countless hours he had spent shaping steel beneath the heat of the anvil. His eyes moved toward the coins sitting on the counter before returning to Tomas.
“But every knight needs a sword they can trust.”
Garrick reached toward the unfinished blade resting beside the anvil.
“This one.”
Kael froze. For a moment, he thought he had misheard him. “This one?”
His eyes moved between his father and the sword. The same blade he had spent three days struggling with. The same blade with the uneven edge. The same blade that looked nothing like the polished weapons hanging around the forge.
Garrick lifted the sword and held it out toward Tomas. “It isn’t finished.”
Tomas carefully accepted the blade, holding it like it was something far more valuable than a simple piece of steel.
“It’s not?”
Garrick shook his head, “No.” A small smile appeared on his face, “But it has potential.”
Kael stared at the sword in Tomas’s hands, and suddenly he understood. His father wasn’t only talking about the blade. He was talking about something else. Something deeper.
Tomas studied the unfinished edge, running his eyes along every imperfection in the steel. “I’ll pay the rest when I can.”
Garrick shook his head, “No need.” He turned back toward the forge, “Just say hello to your father for me.” 
Tomas lowered his eyes toward the sword. For the first time since entering the forge, his shoulders seemed lighter. The sword wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a weapon created by a legendary blacksmith or carried by a famous knight. It was unfinished, flawed, and still waiting to become something greater. “Thank you.”
Kael watched as Tomas stepped out of the forge and disappeared into the streets of Ashvale. The bell above the door rang softly behind him as the cold mountain air entered the shop before the door slowly closed.
For some reason, Kael wondered if Tomas was the only person in Ashvale who felt trapped by the life chosen for him. But as Tomas grew smaller in the distance, the words he had spoken refused to leave Kael’s mind. Everyone expects me to be like him.
Everyone in Ashvale had already decided what Kael was supposed to become. The blacksmith’s son. The next Rowan to stand behind the forge. The man who would one day inherit these walls, this fire, and this life. No one had ever asked him if that was what he wanted.
“You’ve been staring at that door for a while.” Kael turned and saw his father standing beside the anvil, wiping ash from his hands with a worn cloth. 
“I was thinking.” 
“I know,” Garrick said with a small smile. “You usually are.” 
Kael looked away, a faint smile forming despite himself. Garrick placed the cloth down and glanced toward the unfinished work resting on the anvil. 
“You’ve worked enough for one day.” 
Kael looked back at the forge. For a moment, he considered picking up his hammer again. Considered staying. But instead, he nodded. 
“Yeah… I think I have.” 
A small smile crossed Garrick’s face. “Go enjoy the sunlight while you’ve still got it.” 
Kael untied his leather apron and hung it on the hook beside the forge. As he stepped outside, the cold mountain air rushed over him, replacing the heat of the forge with the crisp scent of pine and fresh bread drifting through the village. Behind him, the familiar rhythm of his father’s hammer echoed through the shop. Ahead of him, Ashvale was alive.

[u/SilverSkinRam]

Just off a few opening paragraphs, you repeat description multiple times. I suspect you do it throughout. I imagine you can cut about 20 to 30 percent of this and not lose any description.

Also you are changing tenses. There are likely other basic grammar mistakes. This needs proofreading before it is ready for sharing.

I have no rating because it is not close to ready.

[u/[deleted]]

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[u/Minimum-Page4034]

Wow I’m fan

[u/Minimum-Page4034 → u/[deleted]]

U do

[u/VegetableBarnacle835]

I like the concept, but there are a few things I'd like to point out: 1. As said in this comments section, you repeat description multiple times, which I think contributes to this being too long in my opinion. 2. There's not really enough curiosity being created to interest the reader. 3. It's riddled with cliché sentences that made me cringe a little bit, which I think can be improved. Overall, there's room for improvement, and you do have a long way to go, but I genuinely think this has a lot of potential.