Brian shifted slightly as he tried to get used to the feeling of the extra layer under his robes, the Eletrian Chainmail proving to really be as light as silk, but he still wasn’t used to the feeling just yet. Now he was walking through a particularly rundown looking part of the city outskirts, the buildings pressed tightly against each other as their upper floors loomed over the road, cutting off most of the sunlight. It hadn’t been too hard for Brian to find the right street, but he had had to walk up and down it several times before he’d spotted the tiny smithy squeezed into what looked to have once been an alleyway.
“Excuse me?” he said as he walked into the tiny shopfront, “I’m looking for-.”
“Get out, Mage,” the gruff voice barked, “I don’t forge no more.”
“Ah, I see,” Brian nodded to the dark figure hunched in the corner, “I apologize for disturbing you, it’s just I was told that-.”
“Don’t care, get out,” the voice growled again.
“Little Clark sent me?” Brian tried, the figure remaining silent for a moment, before they stepped out into the dim light, revealing that they hadn’t been hunched over at all, they were just very short and stocky.
“You have half a minute, talk,” the dwarf said sharply.
“I want a blade suitable for a Mage,” Brian said quickly, “I can pay any price you want, up to around four thousand gold.”
“You think that money’s all I give a shit about?” the dwarf snorted, “I look like a hells damned Dragon to you? What’s in it for me?”
“I…I don’t know,” Brian shrugged, “I can make you a bunch of scrolls if you’d like? Money and Scrolls are all I really have at the moment.”
“Pathetic,” the dwarf spat, “Get out, Mage. Couldn’t make you a blade even if I had the Mithril, don’t know what kind of magic you cast. And I don’t care!”
“What if I got you some Mithril, then?” Brian asked, “Enough to make more than one blade?”
“Like you could,” the dwarf laughed, “Stuff is regulated by the Mage’s Guild, and they don’t sell to just anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone,” Brian smiled as he turned away, glancing back as he called, “I’d fire up that forge in the meantime. I’ll be back in about an hour with your Mithril, and I need the sword by tomorrow morning at the latest!”
------
“Mithril?” Tyrenius asked as Brian sat in his office again, “Yes, we can sell it to you, but it is highly regulated. What do you need it for?”
“A sword,” Brian said, “I want an extra weapon, just in case, you know?”
“A Mage with a sword?” Tyrenius chuckled, “Haven’t heard of one of them in a while. A Spellblade, sure, but not a regular Mage, though I suppose that doesn’t include you, now does it?”
“I’d like to think not,” Brian grinned back, “So, how much can I buy? I kind of promised the dwarf I talked to enough to make more than one blade.”
“Dwarf? You couldn’t mean Gert Stonehammer?” Tyrenius said in surprise, “She was still around? Well, that is a surprise.”
“Wait, she?” Brian blinked, thinking back on the gruff voice and thick beard he’d heard and seen in the dim light, before shaking his head, “Yeah, I guess that must be her. Dwarves use family names?”
“Clan names,” Tyrenius shook his head, “Only human nobles use family names. Elves are similar, except they name themselves after the settlement they come from.”
“I see,” Brian nodded, “Thank you for telling me that, wouldn’t want to be rude the first time I meet an Elf.”
“I would imagine, they are known for their…forgive my wording, but rather snooty demeanour,” Tyrenius nodded, making Brian chuckle, “Now, about this Mithril…I can sell you up to one kilogram, and that is a lot, considering.”
“One kilogram?” Brian muttered, “Is that enough to make a sword? Or at least a knife or something?”
“More than enough,” Tyrenius smiled, “I think you’ll be surprised by how much that is. Now, even with your discounts, I’m afraid I will have to charge you around nine hundred gold for the bars.”
“I can do that,” Brian nodded, already taking the plates out of his bracer, “Thank you, Arch Mage.”
“Not a problem, Sir Brian,” the old man laughed, accepting the slabs, “I look forward to hearing of what the famous Dream Smith makes for you.”
------
“You’re back?” the dwarf said as Brian re-entered the tiny smithy, the forge blazing with a hot fire, making the inside almost unbearable to stand in.
“I am, and I have ten ingots of Mithril,” Brian said as he deposited the bluish tinted metal on the anvil in the middle of the smithy.
“Ten?” the dwarf hummed, “Suppose I could make a decent blade or two out of that much. Right, get out of that dress and into some proper working clothes, we’ve got a long night ahead of us!”
“What?” Brian blinked as the dwarf turned around, pumping the bellows on the forge a few times, raising the temperature in the tiny space even more.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“You want a blade for a Mage?” the dwarf grinned back at him, a twinkle in her eye, “Then you have to make it.”
------
“It has been opened,” the shadowy figure muttered as they paged through the book, “The protections somehow removed, the pages defiled by the eyes of a mortal!”
They snarled as they continued reading the page they were on, being sure to memorise the words and gestures written on the page in their ancient tongue.
“But by who?” they muttered, “The Mages of the Guild? No, they are powerful, but incompetent when it comes to ancient languages…then…the black robed Mage, perhaps? But how could he even be able to stay sane when reading Kalagash’s own writing?”
The figure snarled again as they read over the page one more time, before standing back in the cave they were in, performing the dance they needed to do in order to learn the new Ability for themselves.
------
Brian was sweating.
He was sweating harder than he ever had before in his life, and not just from the scorching heat of the forge. His arms ached, his core screamed, and his legs shook as he focussed on the task he’d been given. In front of him, Gert was pounding away at the metal, it’s bluish-grey tint reflecting the reds and oranges of the light of the fire. They’d been doing this all night.
“More!” Gert ordered, “More, you damn whelp! It’ll all be for nothing if you can’t pour your entire self into this blade!”
“I’m out of mana!” Brian moaned, “I don’t have anything else to give!”
“You sure about that?” the dwarf spat, “Then you might as well bugger off now and forget about ever wielding this blade!”
“No!” Brian shouted back, “I’ve already paid for it, so I’m going to have it!”
“That kind of determination ain’t worth a Shroovenge’s shit if you can’t give me more!”
Brian had no idea what a Shroovenge was, but he had the feeling that it was a pretty pathetic creature if it was used in an insult like that. Gritting his teeth, he reached deeper inside himself, feeling the tiny bit of mana that had regenerated over their conversation and pouring it into the blade in front of him. It was gone in a second, Brian’s head aching as he depleted his mana for the dozenth time in as many minutes.
“More!” Gert ordered again, “Dig deeper! Beyond your pathetic mana! Give me something more!”
“Beyond my mana?” Brian coughed, closing his eyes as he tried to sense something else inside him, some sort of power he hadn’t felt before.
Was it some of his life force? Maybe a piece of his soul? He tried looking for both but couldn’t find anything like that. Instead, he delved deeper, continuously pouring the last dredges of his mana into the sword as it regenerated. He pushed down, into his core, past it, searching for something, anything, that could serve as a source of power for the blade being forged. He continued on, his mana continuously ticking up and down as his heart and head pounded in sync.
Suddenly, he blinked. Or he would have had his eyes been open. Instead of the fatigue and pain of his body, or the unbearable heat of the forge, Brian just felt…calm. Looking around, he stared into the dark void around him, squinting as he thought he saw something. Without knowing exactly how, he willed himself over to the thing, staring wide-eyed as it came into focus, a mass of writhing runes and scripts, all intertwined in a pattern he thought would drive him insane. His mind felt like it was splitting for a moment, before…nothing.
And suddenly, it made sense. It wasn’t just any runes, any pattern, it was the fundamental make up of his base Scribe Ability, Literacy. Somehow, he knew this, even though he couldn’t read the runes themselves It just made sense. Impossibly, he was looking at the very make up of one of his Abilities, and he knew what Gert wanted him to do. Shaking his head, he cursed at himself, reaching out for the pattern, before pulling his hand back.
Was this really the best choice of Ability to sacrifice for the sword? What kind of power would his Literacy Ability even give a blade? He looked around again, spotting another faint object in the distance. Flying over to it, he once again stared at the swirling patterns, his head ready to explode from the pressure, before it all vanished, leaving him with the understanding that this was his Status Magic Ability. Nodding, Brian looked around again, once more finding a faint glint in the distance and zooming towards it. This time it was his Curse Magic Ability, Brian leaving it behind as he went in search of his other two Abilities.
Mana Manipulation was surprisingly easy to find, as it was pulsing and vibrating madly, still in use even as he flew through this strange void within himself. All that was left was one more, and Brian had a feeling that it wasn’t the best idea to go looking for it. Shaking the feeling off, he continued to search, flying around for what felt like hours without seeing a single sign of his Forbidden Knowledge Ability, eventually stopping as he looked around in confusion.
“Where is it?” he muttered, staring vaguely into the darkness of the void, “It has to be here somewhere, right? Am I just not going out far enough?”
Taking off again, Brian shot through the never-ending darkness, flying madly around as he went, his temper starting to fray as he continued to find nothing.
“Stupid Ability,” he grunted, “Not like it would be any good for a sword, anyway. I should just choose either Curse or Status for it. Yeah, let’s do that.”
Brian let his mind relax as he began to fly back in the direction he felt he’d come from, somehow able to navigate the infinite void easily. As he let his mind wander, something caught his eye, a rune in the distance that was miles high and wide before it vanished from his vision again. Shaking his head, he figured he’d just imagined it, a product of his tired mind and frayed nerves, continuing on his way. A second rune, just as large as the first flitted through his peripheral vision, Brian stopping and looking around in confusion.
“Wait,” he muttered, “What if…no, that can’t be right, can it?”
Calming himself, Brian let his eyes become unfocused and his mind drift, just floating in the void as he stared blankly ahead of him. After what felt like an age compressed into a single instant, his eyes snapped open wide, the man letting out a throat tearing scream as his entire body felt like it would explode instantly. The pain and agony lasted for years, decades, centuries, Brian slowly getting used to it, until finally it felt like nothing more than an annoying buzz across his skin. And then it was gone, and he felt scrubbed raw, like his very soul had been put through the most intense cleaning session of his life.
But…but he now knew where his last Ability was. Or more accurately, where it wasn’t. He would never find it by looking for it in the void, because it was the void, encompassing all his other Abilities and feeding them somehow, making them even stronger and better than they should have been. And there was something beyond it. Something even more powerful than any of his Abilities. Something he could feed to the sword being forged that would make it one of a kind. Perfect for him, and only him.
And suddenly he was out of the void, the darkness nothing but a tiny speck in the distance, light flooding around him as he bathed in the radiance of his Levels. Reaching out, he grasped part of it, pulling it into his self, filling his mana with it, and letting it flow out into the real world around him. He scowled at that thought, instead of letting the power go to waste by dissipating into the air, he gripped it more firmly, forcing it down into the blade of the sword, making sure to grab every last scrap of power that he could. The light of the world around him shifted, a new form taking shape in front of him.
It was a sword.
His sword.