The moment we finished shaking hands, we went straight to work on our reward.
Hagor searched through his own stock of metals and laid them out on a table for our perusal, saying:
“Look over these metals and see which you gravitate toward. They are all decent choices and have their quirks, and I’ve found that the instincts of warriors tend to be good with this type of discernment. Ask me anything about a metal you might be interested in.”
The materials Hagor had laid out were all very exotic. The most common metals we had seen back home were iron, steel, Gwyniron as those were the most useful metals we could draw from the ground. There was also silver, gold, and copper, but only ever in small amounts. Here, there were more than a dozen unfamiliar options, each giving off their own strange aura.
Durandu was the most familiar of the strange metals, since Goran’s sword was made from it. It’s Stygian exterior gleamed in the reflected orange lighting and it gave off a sense of danger and power simply by sitting there. I saw Ann gravitating towards it, clearly entranced a little by its menacing qualities. Next to it lay a strange forest green metal and a brilliant fiery red ingot, both of which seemed to pulse with elemental power.
I ignored that line and set my sights on the second row. There was a frost blue option there, giving off the same elementalism of its neighbors above. It was joined by a flashy metal that glimmered a sparkling platinum, and a solid, dull grey rock that was as plain as its counterpart was flashy. My eyes brushed over the other options on the table, but I felt them consistently falling back to the dull grey. It was plain and uninteresting looking, but when I picked it up, I felt it vibrating softly in my hand. Hagor was quick to comment on the choice:
“That’s Oscilanium, Steve. Extremely conductive of sonic attacks, though also very useful in creating very sharp edges. The minute vibrations tend to aid in cutting, assuming its crafted well. The only downsides are that it tends to be a little fragile and its not very flashy or menacing. The fragility won’t matter with Bonding, though.”
For obvious reasons, I was already sold. Julia had stood beside be and picked up the frosty metal nearby, admiring its whiteish blue coloration. She would eventually pick it, saying:
“I like the idea of ice-based techniques. Even if I never get them, the frost should slow down anyone I fight, giving me an advantage.”
Meanwhile Ann had made her selection of the Durandu without much hesitation, with Hagor noting happily:
“Durandu is easily molded into a lightweight and sharp edge. Goran’s own is blended with a bit of the Ignium, to help conduct his fire better. Pure Durandu can be swung around at insane speeds without breaking a sweat. Though, we can blend yours with Gwyniron, to improve its overall conductivity.”
With our metals selected, we moved on to selecting the power sources we were planning on using for our Bonding ceremonies. Hagor told us that Glasrock was mostly used for enhancing whatever natural elements our Gifts already possessed. It was news to us, but apparently humans were capable of modifying our Gifts such that their techniques were more likely to take on the characteristics of a certain element. This wasn’t necessarily a beneficial change, but it often created greater specialization. That ultimately meant that you received certain weaknesses but gained certain advantages. One of the easiest ways of making these types of modifications was through Bonding.
I was planning on using the Glasrock for my Bonding in order to enhance my natural sonic abilities, but Julia and Ann still had to choose which material they wanted to use. Neither seemed to have any reservations about developing elemental characteristics, and they went about picking through the pile that Hagor had laid out with great enthusiasm. Julia picked out an icy crystal, in keeping with the frosty metal she had chosen for her spearhead, while Ann had grabbed a smooth stone that crackled with contained lightning at its center.
Julia’s choice of material reminded me of something, and I quickly took it out of my bag and held it up for Hagor’s examination, saying:
“Why don’t you use this to make the haft of Julia’s spear?”
I held out the Arthus’s back spikes for his examination, and he nodded in approval of the idea. He could use all of the spikes that we had gathered in order to make a fine spear haft, and he would also use the fragments of her old spearhead in crafting of the new weapon. We offered to stay and help Hagor with the creation process, but he shooed us away, saying:
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“This is your reward, so let me take care of it. Al has scripting lessons with Magor, but the rest of you should go and get some rest. Leave all this to me!”
After a few halfhearted protests, we decided to accept his offer. We left the forge followed by Goran, who stopped us and asked:
“You have secondary weapons, correct?”
We all nodded. We had lugged backup iron weapons all the way from home, just in case. It looked like they were going to come in handy, since Hagor would have to spend a lot of time forging and reforging our main gear, and we couldn’t afford to be out of action for too long. When we had answered in the affirmative, he continued:
“Good. Go home and get them, and I’ll show you where the training yard is.”
Hagor had told us to rest, but none of us were feeling very tired after our extended rest. Goran had noticed that, and it was with some eagerness that we did as instructed and proceeded to follow the Maegar warrior through the city’s backstreets. It was a long walk before he led us to a massive, four-story rectangular building. Besides the complex lighting scheme, it was very similar to the training hall back in Bynn. I fought down the wave of nostalgia and sadness as I followed our lanky friend into the familiar space.
The design of the interior was rather different from Brynn’s training space. It was open, with no walls or barriers whatsoever besides a very high ceiling. Maegar spar in circular areas demarcated by lines of sand in the ground or engage in target practice at the far wall with their fire abilities. The grunts of combat and chatter of casual conversation fills the room, along with the acrid smell of smoke and sweat. Much of the conversation dies down at the entrance of the senior warrior, younger warriors quickly going back to work and hoping not to be seen slacking off.
Goran choose not to chew anyone out, and instead lead us to one of the large central dueling rings. Without turning around, he proclaimed:
“For as long as you are our guests, you may use this hall whenever you see fit.”
At that he turned around, his stern countenance even harsher than usual. His body language radiated an uncompromising intensity and determination as he continued:
“Furthermore, for as long as you are my guests, I will provide you three hours of daily instruction. Prepare yourselves, for I am not an easy instructor.”
Ann, Julia and I exchanged glances of delight that we quickly schooled into the appropriate solemnity. Training with a fighter of Goran’s abilities would be a huge benefit for us. Even my own father, before his death, was usually too busy to personally supervise my or Ann’s training. Goran seemed at least as strong as him, and regular sparring with him was guaranteed to teach us a lot. We all faced the tall warrior and bowed, saying:
“It will be an honor to learn from the master.”
…
Three hours later, it was feeling like much less of an honor.
Goran hadn’t gone easy on us in the slightest. We had started the practice with 1v1 duels, such that Goran could get a good assessment of our abilities individually. He trashed each one of us multiple times with little apparent difficulty. Ann was fast, but he was somehow faster and definitely more skilled. Julia tried to keep him at bay with defensive spearfighting, but he broke through all of that and beat her just as quickly. I also tried fighting defensively and focusing on endurance, which meant that I managed to survive longer than either of the girls, but I never got close to winning either.
Things got better when we transitioned into 2v1 battles. Julia and Ann struggled to win as their skillsets overlapped too much to be complimentary. But I won more than I lost when I paired up with one of the girls to try to bring the Maegar down. Our strategy mostly consisted of me distracting the chief warrior and trying to create an opening one of the girls could capitalize on. Once we got used to Goran’s fighting style, this proved to be an effective strategy.
We were a bit confused, then, when Goran suggested we come at him 3-on-1. How would that be competitive when we could challenge him with just two of us?
Then, his sword burst into flames.
Goran’s flaming sword gave him unparalleled reach in what amounted to a powerful long-range ability. There wasn’t much we could do to block or disperse it either, so we found ourselves flailing around and trying to dodge the trail of fire as we tried to close the distance on our trainer. Goran deliberately kept his output to the absolute minimum, to not inadvertently cook us alive, but the consequence of that was that we were required to fall over “dead” if the gout of flame ever passed through us.
It wasn’t hot enough to kill us, but it was quite painful, so we didn’t have to pretend too much to be incapacitated when it hit us. After a round or two of fighting like that, Goran noticed that our clothing wasn’t holding up well against his flames. With some apologies, he gifted us some fire-retardant black jumpsuits as well as some backup Durandu weapons, since our iron weapons didn’t handle the heat very well either. These new accommodations made the battles less painful, but we were still a scorched and beat up mess by the time practice was over. We hadn’t beaten Goran in a 3v1 once.
Al, of course, was there to bear witness to our defeated state. He had apparently gotten out of his practice and immediately gone to find us, managing to watch the final hour of our practice. Because he valued his life and health, he mostly just sat on the sidelines and watched quietly, occasionally applauding at a particularly impressive display of pyrotechnics by Goran. As we lay on the unyielding stone floor, beat up and exhausted, he stood over us and nodded sagely. Stroking his chin, he simply said:
“Tough break out there team, but your opponent was real tough. No shame in losing when you gave it your all. There’s always next time! No matter how beaten or broken or downtrodden or humili-“
We weren’t as beaten down as Al suspected we were. Rising off the ground like zombies, we pulled out the last dregs of our energy remaining to chase down our loudmouthed friend. We pinned him down and gave him a plethora of rapid, short distance punches in his arms, legs, and ribs. Goran ambled over to the pile of humanity giving Al his just desserts, calmly saying:
“Be at the training hall, same time tomorrow. Don’t be late for dinner tonight either. Philorena is cooking something special.”
He didn’t wait for a response before walking past us and towards the door. Eventually, we got tired of beating up the idiot and followed him, leaving poor Al in a crumpled heap.
“He’ll be fine.” I thought to myself as I walked to the door, already thinking about what Philorena could be making for dinner.