“Right, so, what we’ll do is we’ll have each of you use your sword to try and cut an ingot. Then we’ll check for damage to the blade. Rinse and repeat until the first sign of damage. It seems like Valkyrie’s blade hasn’t seen much use and is undamaged, which is good for our purposes. Sound good to you both?”

Votive looks between me and Girraghen nervously. “Um. Master, I’m not really comfortable with this competition, I’m worried about what Valkyrie will do without her blade.”

“Valkyrie, your thoughts?”

“I’m fine. I won’t lose.”

“HAHAHA! Fighting words! Let’s get to it then!”

Val and Votive both line up in front of the table holding the ingots. A quick glance shows that they range in quality, from F to D rank. Most are F though, must’ve felt like getting rid of some subpar materials I guess. Votive goes first, his blade going through the ingot with only a bit of resistance. Val follows and cuts it like butter. Like I thought, superior. It wasn’t until their 4th ingot that something happened. Votive’s blade, which I knew was building up stress, damn near exploded on contact with the metal. Finally, vindication. Like I kept shouting at him, he made the core too brittle by overheating it.. It might as well have been the same sword as back then with the wolf. Meanwhile, Val keeps cutting ingots, doing 4 more before they’re finished with nary a mark on the blade.

“I see we have a clear winner! Now then, Valkyrie, kindly tell Votive what he did wrong so he can correct the mistake in the future, as this all started from your complaint.”

“Um, well, I’m not-”

“He overheated the core like an idiot, made it too brittle!”

“-sure I have a nicer way to say this other than that he overheated the core of the blade, reducing its strength and causing it to become brittle and prone to breaking under enough stress.”

“Well said, if a little wordy. You catch that Votive?”

“I, um, yes Master. Thank you, Miss Valkyrie.”

“Alright then, Votive, back to work. Nat, back to the counter. Valkyrie, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me in a conversation.”

“Oh, alright then Master Girraghen.”

“What I like to hear! Come back here with me.”

With that, Girraghen led Val into the back of the store to what I suppose might be the office where someone handles the financials. He sat down in a chair with a swivel built in and turned to face Val who ended up on an upholstered wooden stool. Looking around the room, it was sparsely furnished but decorated quite nicely. On the walls were framed scraps of ancient paper with diagrams drawn on them, crafting recipes recovered from dungeons no doubt. On the small desk was a framed portrait of Girraghen next to another dwarf who looks like the spitting image of Girraghen. A twin perhaps? There’s a very large leather bound book open on the desk filled with numbers and order descriptions, so presumably the order book. Jeez this thing must go back 50 years at least of heavy business. Man’s been doing well for himself. But, hmm, looking at the portrait of the younger Girraghen, it sparks something in my memory but I’m not sure…

“First off, I’d like to properly ask ya if yer a boy, a girl, or if ya jes don’t know. Dwarves are a little more understanding about that kinda thing, being as we all look much the same, what with the beards and stout constitutions and all. Ye don’t have ta answer me, I’d just like to set the record straight so’s the rest of this conversation flows smoother.”

“Um. I’m not really sure what I am. Just not a boy.”

“A’ight, then, Valkyrie, I’ll be honest with ya. I knew Votive was mos’ likely making a mistake. I was waitin’ for him ta figure it out himself. I haven’t been selling his swords, just melting them back down to ingots like I do all my first year apprentices. He may look like a full grown man to ye, but he’s just a kid to his own kind. Draconids live longer than most folk asides dwarves and elves. However, I think this story had a happy end. Now, I also noticed something about yer blade, if ye’d pass it here.”

Val hands over the sheathed Thorn and Girraghen holds it firmly and unsheathes it part way.

“This work looks very similar to the work of an apprentice of mine I had 10 years ago. Maybe the smartest girl I ever taught and also one of the most stubborn. I haven’t heard from her since then but I used to hear about her all the time. Not anymore. Not for what feels like a long time. Does the name “Rose” mean anything to you, Valkyrie?”

“I. Um. I. Uh.” Val looks at me out of the corner of their eye, I suppose asking me if it's ok to tell GIrraghen about me. I shrug. I’m still racking my brains over when I was Girraghen’s apprentice.

“Um. This may make me sound crazy, but I am haunted by her ghost. I have been since I was young. She has been teaching me how to craft things since I was 7 years old.”

“Hmm. Hold on a second.” Girraghen starts digging around in his desk drawers, which seem to be full of random knick knacks and office supplies.

Wait a minute! Hot damn I do remember him! There’s a really long quest chain that teaches you how to smith weapons. Not all crafting disciplines had a quest chain like this but weapon smithing I guess was deemed important enough. It also wasn’t easy. If Girraghen is treating Votive like he is, he’s mellowed out tremendously. Gods, his training was spartan when I was learning from him! Well, wait a minute. Oh yeah, the quest chain never specified who you were supposed to learn from, just from a smith. So, obviously, I tracked down the best smith I could feasibly reach and begged him for 2 weeks to teach me. Maybe that’s why he was so hard on me.

But yeah, he taught me the basics and then quite a bit more about weapon smithing. I, uh, can’t believe I forgot him honestly. How in the flying fuck did I run into him here out of all places?

As I was ruminating, Girraghen managed to fish out a somewhat odd looking device: a pair of spectacles with something that looked suspiciously like the ear trumpet device from one of those ancient telephones. He put them on, held the ear piece to his ear and whistled 3 notes: high, low, high. And then he started looking around the room until he saw me and gasped.

“Rose! It is you! Where’ve you been? Too busy bein dead ta visit the old man you bothered so much to drag out of retirement to teach ya?”

“I. I’m fucking sorry what? What!? You can see me? Can you hear me!?”

“Still got the foulest mouth around I see! And yes, I can hear ya. I take it you’ve been unnoticeable for quite a while.”

“Except for Val and one other person who’s a piece of shit yeah.”

“Must’ve been lonely for ya.”

“Um. Yeah. Yeah it was. I’d probably have gone insane if not for Val. They’re my life line.”

“And your apprentice I see!”

“Yep! They’re a quick study. Can you believe the Thorn is their first sword? They even carved the pommel while I wasn’t looking!”

“I see! Its finish is quite nice. I especially like the handle, good wood well carved and a decent job with the leather. Grass Boar is it?”

“Hunted and tanned by this kid over here!”

“Impressive! Ye’ve got yourself a talented apprentice here it seems.”

“Don’t I know it! Man, it’s been so long since I could talk to someone other than Val who’s not a complete cunt! And you’re a crafter on top of that! This is great! Oh man, do you know Toffee? Did I ever introduce you two?”

“I don’t believe ye did, but I’d love ta meet ‘em.”

“They’re the girl that basically ran my business while I spent my time crafting and hunting down materials and spells. They’re the best. They’re still out by Reinhold house sitting for me.”

“I see, been to see her have we?”

“Um. No. Do…do you know what the ‘chat’ feature is?”

“Hmm. I believe I do. Let’s see.”

With that he makes a few gestures that I know go along with operating the status screen, then starts typing. After a little bit, man he’s a fast typist, I get the system message from the forever affectless voice.

“You have 1 new message from Girraghen Bouldergrasp.”

Chat with Girraghen:

Girraghen: Heya missy. Need ya ta enchant a few of my pieces in the back when you get tha chance.

“Alright mister, when did I say I’d enchant anything for you?”

“I figured, as penance fer fergettin yer old teacher like ye have, a few enchantments on mah best pieces wouldn’t be too far fetched.”

“I. Hrmm. You have a point, however, I can’t.”

“Pray tell, why not? I know from the stories I heard of ye that ye had mana practically oozing out yer ears back before you left.”

“Right, well, not sure if you can see it but I, um, am literally oozing mana right now. I got hurt pretty bad and, I guess since I’m just a soul with no body or blood, the price is my mana. So essentially I’m constantly bleeding mana all over the place and it fucking sucks. Thankfully my mana regen is keeping me afloat but if I use mana too much I’ll pass out and I’m really not keen to see if I wake up again.”

“I see. Well, it’s a shame but can’t be helped. It’ll have to wait ‘till after ye heal. What hit ye hard enough to cut a soul?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Another soul. One juiced up on some hateful power shit on a hateful power trip. It, uh, was a tense moment for Val and I and we ended up having a ‘sacrifice-off’ which ended up with Val unconscious and myself imprisoned while that asshole I mentioned earlier killed the thing and absconded with Val while I was helpless. Oh, also, the way I got hit was when the thing died it exploded and made a crater the size of Fellpoint in the woods. Kinda a piece of shit thing to do if you ask me, which it didn’t, which I thought was quite rude.”

“Hah! Of course ye found it rude. Get caught up in a land rendin’ explosion and all ye can think is that it didn’t ask ye fer permission first. Good ta see yer as full of yerself as ever.”

“Well, you know what they say, ‘fake it till you make it.’ I was faking it for a long time before I started making it but now I am actually a little pissed that it attacked us for no reason and then threw an explosive tantrum when it lost.”

“As to be expected. Also, who was this mysterious asshole ye keep mentioning?”

“Um. Duke Robert Quentin.”

“Ahhhhh. The Sword Duke. Or perhaps, in this instance, the Duke of Souls, though not many say that these days.”

“Yeah I thought it was weird that no one used that title when that’s what he was always called back before I died.”

“That’s the funny thing. Never did use ta bother him, but suddenly one day 12 actors were hung fer slander and insult of the Duke’s personage. All anyone could figure they’d done was write a new play ‘bout the Duke’s achievements in the war, titled ‘The Duke of Souls’. I wonder what changed ‘bout him.”

“Hmm. Good question. Val, any insights?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Right. Sorry Val. Let’s move on Girraghen.”

“Sure. I’d hate to upset them. Let’s see. Want to see some of my latest works?”

“Absolutely! Man I was mid-way through figuring out a new way to layer steel that I think could’ve made a much superior blade but uh, died before I could finish doing it. I’ll teach you what I figured out and see if you can finish the puzzle. It’s hard to smith when you have no hands, you know?”

“I can imagine ‘twould be, ‘twould be. Now, come along youngster, there’s a lot ta teach ya.”

“I. Me? But Rose is my teacher.”

“Val, buddy, I love teaching you, and I’m not going to stop being your teacher. But for crafting, learning the basics from someone that can correct how you hold tools and show you how to do things is better than mere verbal instruction, which is all I can give. It’s a great opportunity to learn while we’re here. We also don’t have anywhere to be, so might as well right?”

“We do have somewhere to be eventually, Rose. Did you already forget about the meeting with the Chiefs?”

“Chiefs, shmiefs, no sense in worrying about the government. C’mon Val, there’s stuff to learn and stuff to make. Everything else is secondary.”

“I. Huh. Is that what you really think?”

“I mean, duh. If I cared about politics I would’ve paid taxes with money.”

“Rose, did ye not pay yer taxes?”

“Nah, when it came time for them to be ‘past due’ I would just give the tax guy some potion or magic knick knack I made and send ‘em off. Normally they didn’t bother me again ‘till next month.”

“Um. Rose, did you not pay attention in my civics classes? Taxes are only due yearly. Why were you paying them monthly?”

“Wait, what? Was that little weasel ripping me off?! I’ll fucking wring his neck the little pissant!”

That shit head! I can’t let him get away with this!

Chat with Toffee:

Rose: Hey, Toffee, is the tax guy in Reinhold the same as when I was there?

Rose: Cause if so, you need to beat him up for me.

Rose: Better yet, just rob him blind.

Rose: That’s what he did to me for 2 years and turnabout’s fair play.

Toffee: What? What are you on about?

Rose: You need to repo about 20 months worth of taxes that I paid to that **** head

Rose: If he can’t pay, have him pay with his life.

Toffee: Jeez, Rose, I can’t go killing a government official! Why on earth are you saying this all of a sudden?

Rose: Because he collected taxes from me every month! They’re only meant to be collected annually!

Toffee: Rose, he did that because you never paid what was owed. He sold whatever you gave him to try and cover your debt and normally it took him all year to add up to the income tax you gathered being the freakin’ busiest crafter this side of the frickin’ Jewel River!”

Rose: Oh. Huh. Wild. Well, maybe don’t kill him then. Or rob him. Just leave him alone I guess. Man that’s the boring option though. Also, if I wasn’t paying him enough he should’ve just told me.

Toffee: He did. Multiple times. You just never listened. You barely spent more than a minute total talking to the man.

Rose: Surely you’re exaggerating! It must’ve been longer than that!

Toffee: What’s his name?

Rose: What a silly question, of course I know his name, we met every month for like 2 years!

Toffee: Then it should be easy to tell me his name, no?

Rose: Frankly, I’m insulted you’re asking me such a simple question about a man I knew very well.

Toffee: Then if you knew him so well, What. Is. His. Name.

Rose: Even if I told you, it wouldn’t mean anything to you. You’ve never spoken to him so how would you know his name?

Toffee: Because I’ve spoken to him extensively while waiting for you to finish up whatever it was you were doing and find whatever thing you were going to try and bribe him with that month. Don’t think he and I didn’t know what you were up to with that by the way.

Rose: I can’t believe my own employee thinks so little of me that I’d forget a trusted colleague's name

Toffee: You were the one telling me to murder him for not cheating you out of the bribes you were giving him.

Rose: Fine, I was bribing him. Happy now?

Toffee: I’ll be happy when you tell me his name. NOW.

Rose: Fine! Fine! I give up! There’s no reasoning with you, you harpy! His name is. Um. His name is. Um. Bob Taxman.

Toffee: Oooh, so far and yet even farther! His name is Jeremy Lewis, turning 48 this year with a wife and 2 children; Mary Lewis and her sons Henry and James, ages 5 and 9 respectively. I won’t tell you Mary’s age because it’s rude to tell a lady’s age, at least, according to Jeremy. Check and mate boss.

Rose: Harpy

Toffee: Hermit

Rose: I’ll have you know I’m in the company of not just Val, who I’m no longer stuck to, but also my old mentor Girraghen.

Toffee: Huh, never heard of him. What’d he teach you, how to cuss worse than a sailor?

Rose: No **** for brains, he taught me how to smith weapons.

Toffee: Oh wow he’s real. Sorry, didn’t mean to offend an actual person

Rose: It’s fine, just he’s pretty ******* awesome and I wanted you two to meet but if you’re going to type like this at me then maybe his delicate sensibilities wouldn’t be able to stand up to the abuse you hurl at everyone around you.

Toffee: Nah boss, you’re just getting a biased view of me because I only hurl abuse at you. I’m really quite nice to everyone else.

Rose: The **** girl? Why you doing me dirty like that?

Toffee: Because you can take it like a big girl. What, do you want me to stop?

Rose: Nah, you’re fine.

Toffee: So as refreshing as this chat and humiliating you has been, did you have anything important to say to me?

Rose: Nah, talk to you later

Toffee: See you boss!

Looking up from my furious typing I find that I’ve been abandoned. Those rat bastards! I fly through the building looking for them and find them way in the back in a beautiful workshop kept tidy, with some state of the art equipment. I can appreciate the quality of the pieces left to be finished. My old teacher made a glaive out of what I think is an alloy of orichalcum and mithril with an adamantite edge. The alloy provides strength at a low weight cost, while the adamantite provides a durable cutting edge that’ll keep keen for a decade or more without needing sharpening, provided you aren’t hunting dragons with it. A very nice, very expensive piece. Plenty of room for enchantment on it but nothing there’s yet. Actually, none of these pieces are enchanted.

“Ah, I see ye found my work without me needin’ ta show ye. Have ye taught young Valkyrie the different metals yet?”

“No, we didn’t have access to many back where we were.”

“Well this’ll be informative! C’mere Valkyrie. Now, see this? What’s it made of?”

“I’d say iron? Just well made iron?”

“Nah, it’s steel. My own steel, mind you. Any smith should be able to make their own steel. That way you know its quality before you start to work with it. See how the metal is brighter than the iron of yer blade? It’s ‘cause the impurities in the metal were beaten out, on top of the charcoal that’s been added to the process to reinforce the metal. Now then, see these lines in the metal here? That’s from what’s called layering the steel. Where we beat it flat, fold it, beat it flat again, and repeat over and over again to further strengthen it. Now if ye look closely, the metal for the core of the blade is different from the edge. Why might that be?”

“The core needs to be more resistant to shocks so that it doesn’t explode like Votive’s did. The edge needed to be harder to hold keen longer.”

“Textbook answer! Indeed. Now, normally when working with steel and iron and bronze, common metals, they’ll simply be two different types of the same metal. Now if ye look at this piece, ye’ll see that there’s a lot more going on color wise. What’s this metal?”

“It’s green, so is it mythril?”

“Correct and incorrect. It’s an alloy of mythril and another metal. Mythril itself is fairly flexible, too flexible to hold shape well. However, it’s extremely light, meaning ye can make a weapon the same size that someone with lower strength and higher flexibility might wield. What metal might I have mixed with the mythril?”

“Um. I’ve heard of adamantite being hard, is it that?”

“GWAHAHAH! No, no. Good guess but the killer of adamantite is its weight. It weighs ten times as much as steel per volume! No way I’d make the majority of a weapon outta that stuff unless I was making it for a giant! No, I mixed it with Pine Steel. In fact, it was the last of the stuff yer master fetched fer me years and years ago! I use it sparingly, as it’s dangerous to collect and annoying to transport. When I sent her to get the shite, I didn’t expect her to actually return, and with not 1 but 13 cones too! Each one nearly as big as me!”

“Wait a minute! You told me I had to return with a baker’s dozen or you’d throw me out on my ass you shithead old fogie!”

“Well can ye blame me? You’d been glued to the forge for days on end, only stopping to sleep, not even ta eat! Ye were startin’ ta go so flame-blasted loopy that ye called me Harrison! An’ insisted that I divorce the goose I married! I don’ even need ta tell ye that ye were about to lose all of what few marbles ye had left!”

“It’s called a healthy work ethic!”

“Healthy nothing! Ye were killin’ yerself in front of me! Ye can’t blame a man fer savin a girl from ‘erself!”

“Yeah, by sending me to get fucking Steel Pinecones? How on earth does that make sense?! I was concussed for like 4 days cause of them shits!”

“But were ye dead?”

“Oh fuck off old man.”

“Um. Excuse me, but are we going to continue the lesson or are you two going to keep arguing?”

“Who’s arguing?”

“Aye, tis a healthy discussion between peers.”

“I. Okay. But are we going to do something, I dunno, more productive?”

“I suppose we can get back to teaching, if, this senile old man admits his mistake.”

“Fine, fer Val’s sake, I admit ‘twas wrong ta save ye from drying yerself out in front of the forge by sending ye to collect a highly dangerous ingredient.”

“Thank you. Alright, now then Val, why would we use-”