by Aleron Kong
“The vessels and nerves in her wing are small and delicate,” Sumiko said, watching the dragonling. “It wasn’t anything overly complicated, but as I had never healed a dragonling before, I wanted to make sure that everything was repaired correctly. My diagnostic spell showed that the two wings are working exactly the same though.” Alma swooped low over the table, twisting in the air. “As you can clearly see,” Sumiko said with a small laugh.
Richter thanked her again and stood. He and Randolphus had already finished their work and Richter was starting to feel a bit stir crazy. He felt the need to feel the wind on his face. Telling Randolphus that he needed to check on something, he bid them both goodbye and walked out of the room. Upon crossing the Great Seal, he decided to make a quick stop in the treasury. He gathered several bars of elementum and all of the quicksilver, cobalt, moonstone and high steel he had left there. Each ingot went into his bag. With the bag’s weight-reducing properties and his high Strength, Richter barely noticed the increase in load. He left the treasury and walked out into the hallway that led outside. A mental summons to the shale adder was all it took for the monster to slide up alongside him. Alma flew above him, casting shade-filled glances at the large snake. Futen floated along silently just behind his right shoulder. With this kind of posse, Richter realized that all he needed was some theme music. Since there was none to be had, he just imagined the theme song to Green Hornet. Several hundred yards later, the motley band emerged from the tunnel and looked down from the top of the hill that led down to the village.
It was still rather early and the sun had not yet risen. There was a stillness to the village. Faint wisps of smoke rose from one of the longhouse chimneys, but that was the only movement that Richter could see. The feeling was magnified by the barely visible overlay of magical mist. Richter looked out to the boundaries of the village, and the five foot wall that ringed the settlement. Torches were set periodically into the defensive wall. As he took in the view, he was struck by the fact that there was a glaring hole in the defenses of the village. It was just too damn dark out. There was no way that the guards could see more than thirty feet past the wall with only fire light to provide illumination. Maybe they could see a bit further if Quasea and her Dark novices were casting Darkvision like they had said they would, but the presence of the torches argued against that. Richter thought about it for a moment, thinking what they really needed were street lights. A smile broke over his face. Actually, maybe they just needed the Mist Village equivalent.
“Futen. If I summon mist lights, can you move them about?”
“I can, Lord Richter,” the remnant replied in his deadpan voice.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Richter used his personal mana to summon ten mist lights. The lights were not overly bright, but each light would last a full year before disappearing. It was true that the village mana pool was twice as large as his own, but it only regenerated at about forty mana per hour. His own mana pool replenished much faster. Nearly depleting his magic reserves brought on the typical headache, but he was getting used to it.
“I want you to start making mist lights and posting them around the boundaries of the village,” he said. “Each should be twenty feet high and I’m guessing about a hundred feet apart. The point is for the guards to be able to see what is out beyond the wall day and night, so if there are dark spots left when you space the lights out, make the lights lower to the ground or closer together. Make one row that is only ten feet out from the wall, then go out further and make another row. I want to be able to see what is around the village all day long.”
“That will require a large amount of mana,” the remnant replied. There wasn’t any concern in the grey orb’s monotone voice, it was just a statement of fact. “Each mist light costs fifty MPs. If I make a large amount of mist lights each day, there will not be any mana left over to summon mist workers or for your own personal use.”
Richter nodded, “I already thought of that. Each morning, I want you to use three hundred mana to summon the lights. I’ll try and supplement the rest. If the mana pool is full at anytime during the day or night, summon a light so that we aren’t wasting potential magic. It will most likely take a long time to do this, but it’s important. The mists are only an advantage if we can see and our enemies can’t, so night greatly reduces the effectiveness of the enchantment. With the mist lights though, we will be able to see 24/7 and our enemies will still be inhibited.”
Futen voiced his assent and floated off to do as ordered. The mist lights trailed behind him. Richter walked down the hill and started moving towards the Forge of Heavens. He was feeling kind of naked without his armor and sword. Also, with the village still asleep, it seemed like the perfect time to practice his smithing.
Richter took a handful of nuts from his bag and munched on them while he walked. The air smelled clean and was heavy with the scent of pine. Dew clung to the grass and the first birds were starting to call out in the forest. The adder glided noiselessly beside him. For fun, Richter started looking for tracks on the ground. The daily crisscrossing of hundreds of people lit up the earth like a Christmas tree. Richter smiled at the evidence of the industriousness of his people.
The forge loomed in front of him and Richter heard a faint clanging. It seemed he was not in fact the only one awake. He ordered the snake to conceal itself and wait outside. It wordlessly communicated that it was hungry. He gave it permission to wander and eat any small rodents it could find. After a second’s pause, he also ordered it to never harm any person, domesticated animal or pet it came across within the walls of the village. After thinking for one more second, he amended his order to never do so unless he ordered it.
As Richter walked into the building he saw that the main anvil was unattended, but one of the muscular humans he had seen in the forge before was at a back anvil swinging a hammer. Richter observed for a few minutes before getting closer. The man’s sure hammer blows stopped when he saw Richter approach. A quick use of Analyze showed the man’s name to be Sameen.
“So what are you working on, Sameen?”
The man placed his work back into the furnace and laid his hammer down. “A simple plow blade, Lord Richter. One of the farmers broke hers on a rock.”
Richter nodded. He knew the work of a village’s forge wasn’t only focused around swords and arrows, but also on building and maintaining the mundane tools and implements vital to any medieval society, “But why are you working here before the sun has even risen?”
The man looked slightly abashed, “It is a great honor to be able to work within a Magic Forge, my lord. As long as I perform my other duties well, Smith Krom has given me permission to work at this anvil as long as I do not interfere with the work of the dwarven smiths. So I come early, when no one else is here.”
Richter nodded. It sounded like Sameen was paying his dues to earn a place among the smiths. Richter approved. He had always been a big believer in hard work, and besides, he wouldn’t interfere with how Krom ran the Forge without a very good reason. Instead, he said something that surprised the human, “Show me how to forge the plow you are making. Explain it step by step, please. I need to better understand the process of smithing.”
“I am sure Smith Krom would be a better teacher,” Sameen protested.
“I am sure he would agree with you,” Richter said wryly. “But you are here and I have asked. Will you refuse me?”
“Oh course not, Lord Richter!”
“Then let’s get started.”
Sameer pulled the red-hot plow blade from the furnace and laid it on the green anvil. He showed Richter the proper way to hold the hammer and how to strike the metal. He also taught Richter the importance of using various hammers at different stages of the work. For beating a lump of metal into a general shape, a large hammer was fine, but smaller tools were needed to sculpt the metal. Most of the work on the plow blade had already been done and soon they plunged it into a barrel of water, eliciting a hiss of steam. O
nce cooled, they placed it on a nearby table. After that, Sameer walked Richter around the Forge, explaining the purpose of the myriad number of tools, both large and small. The sky was beginning to brighten by the time they finished a full lap of the building.
Richter looked around at the still empty forge and then said with a smile, “Let’s make a dagger.”
Sameer looked at him in unease, “I am not allowed to make weapons here, my lord.”
Richter chuckled thinking at how annoyed Krom was going to be when he showed up, “Meh, I’m sure it will be fine!” With that, he went to the back of the building and grabbed a high steel ingot.
Sameer ultimately persuaded Richter to use one of the smaller anvils and also to settle for using only an iron ingot. The chaos seed only agreed because of the look of pure terror on the man’s face when he had started walking towards the main anvil that Krom normally used. Handing over the grey iron ingot, Sameer grasped it with a set of tongs and placed it in the cherry red heat of the furnace. After the metal was glowing, the man brought it out of the furnace and placed it on the anvil.
With the first grin Richter had seen on the man, Sameer said, “Just start swinging, my Lord.”
Richter grinned back and took his advice.
CHAPTER 4 -- Day 111 -- Kuborn 1, 15368 EBG
As soon as Richter had started swinging the hammer, eight lights flared in the center of the smaller anvil. Eager to have his shot at learning an enchantment, Richter swung the hammer with vigor. His high Strength made the ingot flatten quickly, but it was only under Sameer’s instruction that it began to take shape. After less time than Richter thought would have been necessary, he had made his first blade.
You have made: Crude Iron Dagger. Damage 0-3. Durability 7/7. Item Class: Common. Quality: Poor. Weight: 0.3 kg.
Richter held the foot-long piece of metal. It was unbound and unadorned, lacking a cross-guard, and was poorly balanced. Still, he couldn’t resist a feeling of pride that he had taken a block of metal and formed it to his will. Sameer suggested that they recast the dagger and try again, but Richter decided to keep this first rough attempt at Smithing. The simple weapon went into his bag. He did agree that they should keep training his skill, though.
Another ingot was obtained and they started the process again. He forged, re-smelted and re-forged six daggers before the other dwarves started to enter the forge. It was almost comical how each one had an emotional struggle written clearly on his face. Not a one of the bastards liked seeing one human working at the anvil, let alone two, but the fact that one of the humans was the Master of this village kept their tongues still behind their frowning beards. Krom was the one exception.
“What in the name of the Banished Ones’ pimply left nuts do ye think yer doing?” the dwarf shouted.
Richter paused with his hammer poised above a still glowing length of metal. “Why Krom, I do hope you are not objecting to your lord using his own forge?” he asked sweetly.
“Ay object to ye flailing about on top of that anvil like an epileptic teenage boy on top of his first sweetie! Yer all arms and elbows, just bashing away as hard as ye can. That be no way to treat a lady!”
“And you can tell me how to treat ‘a lady’ can you?” Richter asked with barely concealed amusement.
Krom scowled for another moment, before a large smile split his salt and pepper beard. “Oh aye!” Then he looked at Sameer and glared, “Do ye na have other work to do?”
The muscular man bobbed his head and said, “Yes, Smith.” He moved off into another part of the forge.
“Well you have gotten rid of my teacher,” Richter said. “You better be able to take his place. I plan to be a master smith by the end of the day.”
“Actually, yer lordship, ay was hoping ye would like to put some of that new enchanting power to good use. Ay can share the enchantments ay already know if ye help me while ay swing me hammer. It will also give us both a chance to learn something new from these damn lights that be dancing in the anvil.”
Richter smiled. Using his new Profession was already on his agenda. One thing remained to be done though. He still needed to choose his Specialization. The only thing that held him back was that he didn’t know any enchantments yet. If he was going to be helping Krom though, it would seem the time had come.
Before he got to it, he pulled Krom aside. Once they were beyond earshot, there was a quiet moment, then he asked, “Are you okay?”
Krom just stared back for a second before his face relaxed, “It were a tough fight, yer lordship. Ay will na lie and say ay didn’t get a knock or two, but at the end of the day, we won! We took that big bastard down and it will na be getting up again!” Krom grinned, “Besides, I got to spend a bit o’time with that fine silver-haired sprite lass!”
Richter looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before his mouth dropped open in comprehension. “Sumiko?” he asked incredulously.
“Aye,” Krom said, his grin widening.
“She’s gotta be like a hundred!” he exclaimed.
“Not too old for me to breathe life back into her… as long as ay be breathing in the right place,” Krom said with an evil chuckle.
“Gah! I can’t hear any more of this,” Richter said, putting his hands over his ears. Krom just kept chuckling and walked off. The dwarf said he needed a bit of time to get ready. He ordered one of the other dwarves to stoke the fire in the furnace then walked off. Richter sat on a nearby bench and pulled up his personal interface. He found the icon he was looking for, a sword with a glowing aura that had appeared when he had obtained his Profession.
Richter mentally selected the symbol and once again the multicolored starscape filled his vision. Blue spheres with writing on them floated like planets amidst a nebula. Golden filaments connected all of the spheres. Two of the spheres glowed slightly, backlit against the cosmos. The others were darkened, like lifeless moons. The central sphere had the word “Enchanter” emblazoned on its surface. The second globe was connected to the first by a glowing thread. Across the surface of this second sphere read the words, “Increase Enchantment Strength II.”
There was something new in the nebula now. A second red sphere, the same size as the central blue sphere, floated amidst the stars, far to the right of the blue spheres. It had the word “Specialization” carved into its surface. Richter focused on it and suddenly the screen zoomed in so fast that he closed his eyes and dodged back involuntarily. Luckily he didn’t actually fall out of his chair. Krom would have teased him mercilessly.
His view had shifted until it looked like he was standing on the red sphere. He had a strange sort of double vision, in that he could see the Forge of Heavens and everyone around him, but he could also see another world. As he looked around, he realized that the prompt had actually seemed to pull him into it this time. He was no longer looking down at the spheres from above, he was now standing on a sphere that had become as large as a planet! A distant part of him realized that he should perhaps be bothered by that fact, but more than anything he was fascinated by what he was seeing. As he focused on his view of the sphere, his perception of the forge faded until it almost disappeared. As the prompt became more real, he was actually able to feel, taste, smell and hear things from this new world.
Richter’s feet rested on a desert made of fine red granules the color of rubies. In the distance, dark red storm clouds hovered on the horizon and he could see orange bolts of lightning striking down towards the ground. The sky was a deep pink. The clouds were far into the distance and mountain-sized dunes surrounded him, but he was standing on a relatively flat space. What occupied his immediate attention were the figures standing not more than twenty yards away from him. There were twenty-one figures in all and they were arrayed in a circle around him. Richter could only make out the details of seven of them as the others were shrouded in shadow. What could be casting that shadow was a mystery because there was nothing else around them, but it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t make ou
t a single detail of the remaining fourteen. Each figure stood on a short column of black basalt, only two feet off of the ground.
Richter looked at each in turn and was amazed to see that each of the seven figures he could examine had his face. He was about to take a step forward when a prompt filled his vision. A prompt within a prompt, Richter thought to himself with a smile.
Greetings Enchanter! You have persevered through your Profession for ten personal levels and now have the opportunity to choose your Specialization. This is not necessary, but it is the only way to reach the truest heights of power in your Profession. Only one Specialization can be chosen for your Profession and any choice is irrevocable. Choose your Path of Power wisely!
Richter dismissed the prompt and walked up to a figure on his right. The men that he could see were clustered on one side of the circle. The first one he approached was wearing rings and bracelets that glowed with power. A platinum necklace hung around the man’s neck with a swirling black jewel at the end. Richter looked bemusedly at his own face as the man on the pedestal stared off into the distance. Even though he knew the figure couldn’t just be a statue, the chaos seed was startled when the man’s neck bent and they made eye contact. His surprise deepened when the man spoke with his own voice.
“Hello, Richter.”
Not really knowing what to do, Richter responded, “Hello, Richter.” His face wrinkled in irritation. This was getting way too meta.
The man on the podium laughed. It was uber-weird hearing his own laugh, but Richter reasoned that this experience was still way better than his trial. Being tortured by Nexus had been whore-reeb-blay, so he just waited for the man to finish. After a final chuckle, the man on the pedestal said, “I know. It’s all a bit meta, isn’t it?”