Chaos Unchained- The Mad Smith
Page 16
“Well I’ll be,” Conwold said in disbelief. “I’ll be honest, I thought for sure I was sending you to your death and was ready to feel real bad about it, but we had to get the Underpass open for business.”
“Good enough then?” Jandar asked.
“Good enough,” Conwold replied, shaking Jandar’s hand. “Food’s done. You gotta tell us how you killed them trolls while we eat.”
Jandar sagged in ecstasy at the flavor of the tender meat, forcing himself to slow his chewing so he could savor it as long as he could. He did not even try to tell his story until he had eaten every bite and licked his fingers clean.
“Owulf, that was amazing.”
The man just nodded and smiled while Conwold spoke for him. “Owulf might be a terrible conversationalist, but he can sure cook.”
“Can you tell me how he seasoned it?”
Conwold waited for Owulf to nod his assent before answering. “You take basil, garlic, salt, pepper, and sage and rub it into the meat real good. Wrap it up tight for most of the day, but not too long when the weather is warm or it will go bad on you, and then fry it in lard or butter with some mushrooms and onions. That’s it.”
You have learned how to cook Smuggler’s Marvelous Meat. Requirements: Proper seasonings and advanced cooking level 10. Increases out of combat health and stamina regeneration by 25%.
Your cooking skill has increased to Level 1, Grade 3. The quality of the food you cook is increased by 1.3%. Rank: Kitchen Porter.
“Now, how about telling us how you killed those nasties. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
Jandar told his tale in every gory detail, how he had set the one troll on fire and battled the other with hammer and torch. He left out any mention of his arcane channeling. The two men seemed decent enough, but Grady had taught him to always keep his cards close to his vest. Knowledge was power, and the less someone knows the less power they have over you.
Conwold was chuckling when Jandar finished his tale. “I can’t believe that beast pissed out those torches. Smarter than I’d have given them credit for but just as nasty. Damn, boy, you got the devil’s luck and his big brass balls.”
Jandar chuckled along with him. “It was far more luck than balls. I tried to run away and was only a finger flick from becoming dinner.”
The smuggler gave him another long, appraising look and his eyebrows shot up. “Wait a second. You’re one of those adventurers aren’t you?”
“Something like that.”
“That explains it then. When you said you was from, where, Whitbell? I took you for a local.”
“Middale,” Jandar corrected him.
“Ah, that’s right. Don’t know why I have that sleepy little town on my brain. Hardly even heard of it until someone came talking earlier today about a nasty fire that killed a bunch of your kind there.” Conwold wagged his head as he and Owulf stood up. “That’s one hell of a story. Well, I’m a man of my word. Owulf and I have our goods on a cart back in the trees a bit. We’ll go grab it and roll it into the cave for you to take your pick of reward.”
The two smugglers disappeared into the night and reemerged a few minutes later pushing a two-wheeled cart that was narrow enough to guide through the tunnels. They guided it inside the cave and pulled back the tarp protecting their goods from the rain.
The cart was laden with mostly bottles of alcohol, spices, and tobacco, but they had a few other items of taxable value as well. A gleam of metal drew Jandar’s eyes and he pulled out two large metal ingots.
Conwold shuffled his feet and bit his lip. “I was expecting you to choose a bottle of good booze or tobacco. That there is Caprian high steel and a might more valuable than what I wanted to part with.”
Jandar found a third ingot. “How much do you want for all three?”
Conwold took a deep breath and let it out. “Even if I kept the gold I promised you, all three ingots would put a sizable bite in my profits for this trip. I don’t want to come off like a skinflint, but this is our livelihood.”
“A livelihood, not to mention lives, you might not be able to continue had I not killed those trolls.” Jandar watched the man squirm a bit before adding, “How much would it take to secure all three? I’m not going to hold you over a barrel and try to beggar you.”
Conwold grinned at him. “You say beggar or bugger? In business, the two aren’t so far apart some times. Tell you what; you match the gold I was going to give you and you can have all three. Otherwise, take two and we’ll call it even.”
He and Grady did not get much high steel in Whitbell, but he knew how expensive the stuff was, and he was getting a fair deal. Depending on what kind of favor he could call in later, it might even be a good one. He pulled the raw gold nuggets he had found in the troll lair as well as the bandit camp and held them out.
“That look about right?”
Conwold took them and hefted them in his palm. “Good enough. Folks are gonna be real happy knowing the Underpass is clear again. You know, if you want to earn some real money, word is there’s a king-sized bounty on a fellow named Jandar Barati. They say he’s the one who started that fire and killed those adventurers in Whitbell. Just thought you might be interested to know that.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“You do that. Since it don’t rain inside a cave, Owulf and I will press through until morning. We prefer to move in the dark, especially when we know there’s no trolls and fewer highwaymen lurking around. You take care of yourself, Jansen,” he said with a sly grin as he shook Jandar’s hand.
“You too.”
Chapter 11: The Gods Must be Crazy
THE VALLEY RINGED ALMOST entirely by mountains where Crag Cross resided was not very large, and it took less than three hours for Jandar to reach the edge of town. The walk from the Underpass had taken him near the middle of town, so he headed north figuring most of the shops would be nearest Crag Cross’ proper entrance.
His educated guess proved true as he heard the smith’s workshop a minute before finding it within eyeshot of the road connecting Truale and Capria. The blacksmith was beating on a length of steel that looked as if it had been a sword before it had broken and would be once again when he was finished with it.
Jandar approached the smithy and walked past to catch the busy smith’s eye without disturbing his work. He cocked his head and arched his eyebrows when he saw he had to correct himself. Her. The blacksmith was a woman perhaps fifteen years Jandar’s senior. She had her hair bound up and covered with a headscarf made of sturdy cotton soaked with sweat, or perhaps water to keep her head cool and extinguish wayward sparks.
He stood politely waiting for her to address him, as was proper blacksmith protocol. One did not interrupt a smith working hot metal unless you wanted to risk being walloped with a hammer or feel the touch of metal hot enough to sear flesh but too cold to work due to your rudeness. She continued beating the steel until the sword possessed a proper tip once again before dunking it in brine and tempering the steel.
“Can I help you with something?” the woman finally asked.
She was an average height for a woman, but her stocky appearance made her look a little shorter. Her voice was rough from years of breathing in foul air and shouting over ringing metal. Her arms looked strong enough to beat more than half the men in town in an arm wrestling contest, but Jandar was sure he could pin her wrist to the table.
“Yes, Smith,” Jandar replied with her formal title. “I was hoping I could use your forge if there’s a time where I won’t be in your way. I can pay for it.”
The woman leaned back with her gloved hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you the polite one. You’re an apprentice I take it?”
“Yes, Smith. I’ve been training under Grady Moodie of Whitbell, well, all my life really, but formally for about eight years.”
The smith bobbed her head. “I heard of him. Seen a little of his work come through here a few times. Not bad for a backwater metal beater
whose bread and butter is probably horseshoes and cookware. You got your own tools?”
Jandar nodded. “Hammer, tongs, and gloves, but my apron is no longer serviceable.”
She looked him up and down a moment before replying. “OK. You can use one of my aprons, but you break anything or get in my way and I’ll break you. I can work away from the forge for the most part once I finish up a couple things first, then she’s all yours. Rent’s five silver an hour plus materials. If you don’t like it, you can find another smithy. Nearest ones are twenty miles in either direction.”
Her price was steep bordering on exorbitant, but if the borders were closed, her business was going to suffer a significant decline in the coming days.
Jandar stuck out his hand. “Jansen.”
The smith pulled off one leather glove and gripped his offered hand firmly. “Blanch Divers, but my friends call me Smokey. Come back in about an hour.”
“Will do. Thank you.”
Jandar found the leather shop and began laying all the damaged armor out onto a table. “I’d like to get these repaired as soon as possible,” he told the leather smith.
The older man wearing spectacles perched on his sharp nose leaned down for a closer look. “I can get them back in order by tomorrow, but I can’t do much for the smell. You take these off a battlefield of decaying bodies?”
“It was a battlefield of sorts but no bodies. They’ve been sitting for a time in foul air.”
“Foul isn’t the word for it. All right. Lucky for you I’m not so tied up I can’t do a rush order. Costs more though if you want them by tomorrow.”
“That’s fine,” Jandar said and paid the man.
He returned to the smithy where Smokey was back to working metal.
She looked up at his approach. “Gonna be a little longer than I expected. You might want to find something to do for a spell.”
“Can I do some chainmail repairing without getting in your way?”
“I doubt it, but you can try. Use that table over there by my spare anvil. You can buy the wire from me if you don’t have your own. I’ve also got bins of single rings and a decent supply of individual four in one weaves of riveted rings if you got more money than time and patience.”
“How much are your riveted ring sets?”
Smokey smiled at him. “A silver each.”
Another high price, but using the already made four in one ring sets would save hours of work, and he did not need a lot of them. Jandar set the damaged mail shirt on the table, grabbed a handful of ring sets, and counted them out as he dropped them near the mail along with several unriveted connecting links.
Smokey looked up at one point and strode over to his workstation. “What the hell are you doing, kid?”
Jandar opened his mouth to answer, but the smith snatched the mail away and began using a tool to undo much of the work he had already done. “This is why I never took on an apprentice. It’s like getting a new puppy and having to teach it where to shit. Flatten the connecting rings like this. Once you’ve gotten everything stitched back together, you use the peening tool to lock the links together and rivet them shut. The metal is soft enough you don’t have to reheat it. That’s not the case with some higher metals.”
Jandar bobbed his head. “Thank you, Smith.”
“I told you, you’re not my apprentice.”
“Sorry. Thank you, Smokey.”
The smith leaned away and scowled. “I said my friends called me Smokey. I didn’t realize we’d suddenly become friends. I suppose you want to come over for dinner and talk about politics while you drink all my beer now too.”
Jandar shook his head. “No, sorry, Blanch…uh…Smith Divers.”
The master smith grinned at him and slugged him in the shoulder. “Relax, kid. I’m just slagging your shagging shank. Assuming you aren’t too stupid to remember what I showed you, you should have that shirt repaired by the time I’m done with the forge.”
“Yes…Blanch.”
Smokey snorted and wagged her head as she walked back to the forge. “Damn puppies.”
Most people would be hurt or insulted by having someone speak to them as Smokey had to him, but those people likely never apprenticed themselves to a craftsman. While Smokey was a bit more brusque than Grady had been, her demeanor toward him was not uncharacteristic. He finished repairing the mail about an hour later and received a prompt.
Iron chain hauberk: Common. Quality: Good, +10% armor rating and durability. Armor rating: 10. Durability: 30/30. Value: 10 gold. (Item quality improved by 29%. +10% base quality increase and 19% smithing skill)
Your smithing skill has increased to level 19 Grade 0. +19% quality increase to all smithing in which you are proficient.
You are now proficient in chainmail construction and repairing.
That was welcome news. Only one more point in smithing and Jandar could consider himself a true journeyman.
“Forge is all yours, kid,” Smokey said as she tossed her leather gloves onto a table.
Jandar donned a spare apron and began setting the high steel ingots on the table near the forge. Smokey walked over, picked up one of the ingots, and held it before her eyes.
“Caprian high steel. Good stuff. What are you going to make?”
“I’d like to see if I can forge a buckler and a better hammer,” Jandar replied.
“You ever work with high steel before?”
Jandar shook his head. “No.”
“If your end result is going to look anything like that turd on a stick you call a war hammer hanging from your belt, I’d strongly recommend you commission me to do it for you. Wasting fine steel like this is a crime against humanity, or at least anyone who dares to call themselves a smith.”
“You’re probably right, but if I want to keep getting better, I need to challenge myself. I certainly wouldn’t mind if you’d—”
“Tell you where to shit?”
Jandar grinned at her. “Give me a few pointers.”
“Point where to shit. Got it. High steel contains nickel, which is what keeps it from rusting like normal steel. Since you’re not making the ingots yourself, you don’t have to worry about metal and alloy content, so half the hard work is already done. The other half of the challenge is the difference in forging temperature and tempering. It’s a bit trickier if you want to maintain a good balance between hardness and flexibility.”
Smokey described the forging and quenching process before letting him get to work.
“If you like, I can try to polish that turd while you’re working. Won’t charge you much.”
“I thought it turned out well enough given that it was my first real weapon and field crafted with a fire pit for a forge and a boulder for an anvil.”
Smokey nodded. “In that case it’s a fine-looking turd.”
“Thank you. I still wouldn’t mind having a master touch it up though. I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to spend all night out here.”
Smokey took the hammer, removed the haft, and began heating it in the forge. Jandar did the same with the high steel ingots and started working. He began with the war hammer since he had some practice in making one, but it was slow going. Whenever he started making real progress, he would make a mistake and have to go back and fix it. After an hour of trial and error, he received a prompt.
Your smithing skill has increased to level 20 Grade 0. Congratulations, you are now a Journeyman smith. +20% item quality. Maximum manual skill advancement limit increased to three points per level. Your skill allows you to proficiently work metals up to and including high steel. Base quality level of crafted weapons and armor made with high steel is average. Base quality level increases or decreases with metal tier.
Jandar’s progress went much faster now that his skill had reached the appropriate level for the metal he was trying to work. He made the hammer similar in size and weight to his “turd on a stick,” as Smokey liked to call it, so the two would feel balanced in his hands.
Once Jandar was pleased with the end result, he tempered it in a quench bath and set it aside. All it would need now is polished and some buckling straps with a bit of bunting on the back side to finish it. He set it next to his new hammer and inspected his handiwork. He found his old, much improved hammer lying next to his new one.
High Steel War Hammer. Common. Quality: Good, +10%. Damage: 14. Durability: 30/30
Steel Buckler. Common. Quality: Good, +10%. Armor Rating: 10. Durability: 40/40
Steel War hammer: Common. Quality: Exceptional, +30%. Damage: 16. Durability: 40/40
Smokey examined his work lying on the table. “Took you long enough, but it’s not too bad.”
Jandar snapped his head up, breaking him out of the shock at seeing how much better Smokey’s hammer was than his despite using a lower tier metal.
“For a backwater smith who makes horseshoes and cookware all day you mean.”
“I think I know you well enough by now not to call you that.”
“Backwater?”
“Gods no, a smith.”
Jandar chuckled at the surly woman. “You did a hell of a job on my old hammer.”
She shrugged. “I could have done better had I been working with fresh materials and given a shit. I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” She looked Jandar up and down and smiled. “Maybe if I get drunk enough I’ll let you stoke my forge.”
Jandar stepped back, his face flushing almost as hot as the forge fire. “I…appreciate the offer, but—”
“But I have a face like a bulldog and the body and disposition of a draft mule. Damn. Ain’t that always the way.”
“I was going to say that I recently lost my wife and son.”
Smokey placed her hands on her hips and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, shit. I was joking, but then you had to go and make it awkward.”