The Forge
The Crasher spilled out of its void portal like a metal ingot being poured out of a bucket. Against the star scape of the living realm, and with the Forge ahead of the Crasher, the sturdy battleship cut an imposing image. A mixture of hard angles of Brotherhood design, and barrels for turrets and spell cannons. The metal leviathan slowly lumbered towards the Forge.
The Forge itself was part stellar station, part resource asteroid. Originally a resource asteroid with an outfacing facility built onto it, over time, the facility and its population grew. As the years and the output of its products grew, so too did the size of its needs, both in materials and forge smiths. The crasher drifted into docking position slowly, like a lumbering leviathan. A connecting collar slowly extended from the Forge and merged with the Crasher’s hull. A ring of air and earth runes pulsed with magic energy, sealing the connection and filling the tube with air, then a third set of void runes glowed, providing stable gravity.
Morwen stood before the airlock, reviewing her inventory. She sorted the goods she’d planned to barter with at the top so she could quickly and easily access them. Her first few experiences with the dwarves at the Forge’s marketplace had been a costly if enlightening experience. She didn’t intend to repeat the same mistakes this time. Not with everything riding on her success or failure. She waited as Akamori rounded the corridor and joined her in the airlock, shifting uncomfortably in the dress uniform she’d provided him. She gave him a sideways glance. “It suits you, you know.”
He grunted something inaudible, and she couldn’t help a smirk. She understood his dislike and distrust of her. She found that were their roles reversed, she’d have behaved much the same way. Unfortunately, they had to work with the roles fate had given them.
Before she opened the airlock, she turned to face him. “Private. Typically, I don’t break with decorum and discipline. I’ve found it always helps to maintain a healthy and functional climate. But in this rare instance, I want to dispense with the ranks and formalities. For the duration of this mission, I am simply Morwen until I say otherwise. Understood?”
He eyed her wearily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After an unbroken silence stretched on, he nodded to her. “Ok. But why?”
She turned back to the airlock. “Put simply? Because I need your help.”
“Well, you’ve got me shackled to this war of yours.”
Morwen shook her head as she placed a hand on the T bar for the airlock. “No. I’ve conscripted you to a service term. But this fight ahead of us? It’s going to be the kind I’m unsure any of us will walk away from. But it’s a fight we must face. Our failure will cause what happened to your world to sweep the sector. A fight like that is best won with everyone giving their all.”
“So I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t?”
Morwen frowned, “Not quite. You have a choice in this, and while I may have involved you without your consent, I’ve noticed that your free will matters to you.”
“So you’ll let me go?”
Morwen’s lips compressed as she tugged the lever down. The large circular toothed doors peeled apart, revealing a blue field. The blue field dropped, and they were free to advance into the Forge. “I’ll make you a promise. We’ll revisit that request, but only after you’ve seen what I wanted you to. Deal?”
She held her hand out, pricking the palm, and then presented it to him. He looked at her awkwardly, and she smiled. “It’s a dwarven tradition. Because most are born with earth magic and blood naturally resonates with earth magic, they see a blood bond as sacred. A way of establishing a trust that goes beyond words and transcends magic. To them, blood and stone are eternal, so too then should their promises be.”
She held the small dagger out to him handle first if he accepted. He took the dagger and pricked his palm, wincing at the spike in pain, and then extended his hand. They shook on it. She nodded. “It’s a deal then.”
He studied his blood smeared palm, and she held her hand above his own and a faint golden light radiated out. As it seeped into his own hand, the minor wound closed. She offered him a cloth to wipe his hand clean on. “I’d prefer you didn’t stain the uniform. We have so few to spare.”
Once he gave her the cloth back, she folded it, tucking it into her pocket. She hoped she’d have need of it again soon. She gestured for him to follow her and she took the lead, entering the Forge. The proportions inside were always a little hard to get used to since the dwarves built the place with the help of a god eons ago. She got over the feeling when she’d begun visiting the Forge as a teen. Ever since they’d, she’d overlooked the proportion disparity. That most things came to waist high barely registered for her. The ceilings were still a few meters tall to allow for non dwarven guests.
The walls of the facility were a contrast between glossy silver and gold. Veins layered throughout the walls, ceilings, and floors where pulses of aetheric energy passed. As they did, he could feel the air energy in them as it sang to the air energy in his own chest. Tugging at him like a small magnet with each passing pulse. Once they stepped out of the airlock docking collar, though, the Forge immediately looked different. Refugees clogged every free piece of square footage. The rest went to a stall or vendor selling goods.
Most of them looked like humans, but he’d spotted elves and dwarves in the mix, too. No Orcs, though. “I see every race in the sector here, except for Orcs.”
Morwen nodded. “Those not enslaved by Sauridius lurk at the fringe of the sector in a mobile fleet that avoids contact. They’re a very private and reclusive people and very proud. Unshackled orcs are a rare sight, and the Forge hasn’t had contact with any in quite a few solar cycles.”
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She watched him puzzle over that. “My people used to have legends about green giants that attacked us many years ago. But it only happened once, and we never saw them again.”
Morwen nodded as they slogged their way through the crowd. “That would fit with orc migratory patterns for their fleet. Those enthralled by Sauridius move directly with his enslaved dragons. But the migrants, they only visit barely populated worlds long enough to hunt, gather what they need and then venture on.”
She smiled at a vendor who offered her a pretty golden necklace and declined politely. She knew precisely who’d she intended to visit. Sure enough, scrubbing his counter with a soapy rag was Pack. The dwarven enchanter’s long scruffy dark beard had two braids tied along his jowls. He had small circular framed glasses that perched on the round tip of his nose. Pack wore his traditional apron over his plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows.
“As I live and breath. If it isn’t Morwen the tall.”
“Good to see you again, Pack.”
“So what brings you to my humble shop? Lookin to spend ye coin?” he said, rubbing his index finger and thumb together with a curious expression.
She nodded, “I’d prefer to barter, since I learned too late last time that Federation coin isn’t good enough here.”
Pack waved the comment off with a scoff. “Well, it’s all rubbish if ye ask me. So, what did ye bring me?”
“Stuff off with yer ‘me’ Pack.”
Morwen smiled, bowing slightly to the fiery red head pushing a mop half in the back of Pack’s shop. “Hello Tendra. Are you keeping him in line still?”
“It’s a loosin’ battle, mi’lady. Is there anything specific ye be lookin foor?”
Morwen nodded, having already decided on the best course to pursue supplying the ship. “Yes. I’ve come for your potions. All of them, or as much as I can buy.”
Pack’s brows bounced eagerly at the news and started about the business of rounding up everything he had ready to sell.
“Ma’am?” Akamori started before she saw him mentally correct himself, “Morwen, that sounds like it could get costly. Are you sure about this?”
“You better than anyone should appreciate our supply woes currently,” Morwen said.
Akamori shifted at that. She was right; he was acutely aware of their supply woes. His face and ribs especially so. That said, he wasn’t sure how a trip to the forge was going to fix their situation. He didn’t imagine this tiny vendor being able to meet all their needs.
“I’d read the incident report between the marines and you.” She didn’t explain she’d actually watched it happen since the brawl took place on her shift. Connected to the ship, she had access to every sensory process the vessel had. Its eyes and ears became her own. She took on the ships’ senses.
“I’m not saying they don’t suck. I guess I’m just questioning the process. Is this really the best way?”
Morwen nodded, “I find the dwarves are more reliable than the Federation is for being dependable. A sad fact, really.”
Pack finally finished sorting and leaned against the countertop. “Now let’s be seein’ what you’ll be barterin’ with?”
Morwen fished several golden cards out, “I have several enchanted cards containing knowledge and information about healing and light magic from my people.”
System Info: Negotiation check: Fail
Pack rolled his eyes dismissively. “We both be knowin’ ye didn’t come all this way to waste our time with the petty baubles. Let’s look at what ye really came to trade with, hmm?”
Morwen smiled, “Very well.” Akamori got the sense this was some kind of negotiation dance and Morwen was very comfortable with it. She lifted her uniform sleeve to reveal a golden bracelet with a ruby, and two emeralds on it. The gems swam across the bracelet's surface like fish in water. “It’s a sentient, fully developed elder spell armor.”
She drew a dark rune, and the bracelet unclasped from her wrist, and she gently deposited it into his hand. Pack eagerly inspected it, holding up to the light, and even going as far as biting it. She could practically see the money signs in his eyes. “My father crafted it for me. He’s the ArchPriest on Eryn.”
System Info: Negotiation check: Success
Pack’s head snapped up, focused on her. “By the ArchPriest ye say?” He blinked, his eyes unfocused for several moments. He almost stumbled into the back of his bar, but Tendra had caught him at the last moment.
“Now then. You’ve seen what I have. What do you have for me?”
Pack gestured to Tendra and nodded. She went to the back of the shop and returned with something in a gold and silver flask. “This be my finest piece I created yet. I figure you might best be appreciatin’ it since you come from Eryn.” He unscrewed the cap of the flask and held it out for Morwen to examine.
Morwen leaned down and peered into the flask. She could sense the immense magic pooled in the flask. It was like peering into the heart of a star. A familiar light, like that from her home. She glanced up at him. “Pack, what is this?”
“My granddaddy’s secret brew. It’s called the Tears of Eryn. When a goddess cries, a good dwarf’s job is to bottle it an sell it. He used to say it could give ye the power of a god.” Morwen folded her arms and leaned back. Morwen set the bracelet down on the countertop, along with the info cards.
“I want all of it. You give me all your potions and enchantments currently available and the Tears of Eryn, and I’ll give you the armor, plus the spell cards and credits.”
She slid the cards and bracelet forward and held her hand out. Pack examined it for a moment, then glanced back at Tendra who gave him an approving nod. “Ye always done right by us, Morwen. It’s a deal!” He took his glove off, then pricked his palm and held it out. Morwen pricked her own palm, and the two shook.
“It’s a deal.” Morwen repeated.
She sent a message spell to the ship for the others to come and gather their supplies. On their way back to the ship, Akamori looked like something was bothering. “What troubles you, private?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“The deal. I get we needed the supplies, but why bargain off the elder spell armor? If my father had given me something like that, I don’t know that I could have parted with it so freely.”
Morwen put a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes an item’s true purpose isn’t quite what its intended use was. Take you, for example. Your father intended for you to carry on your clan’s leadership, but here you are. I can say the same for the armor my father created. Besides, given what we’re to face, I doubt a single set of armor is going to shift the balance of power. But a full stock of supplies? Now that? That just might do it.”
Akamori looked as though he wanted to protest, but she gave him a squeeze. It wasn’t a debate. “But even still?”
“Private.” Morwen said, her voice cutting over the conversation like cold steel. “I have settled the matter. We have our supplies. I’ll hear no more of it. Understood?”
Akamori clamped his mouth shut. “I guess the peers' conversation clause is done.”
Morwen nodded stiffly. “Yes. It is. Report back to the ship.”
“And our deal?” he asked. His hand held aloft for her to see.
“We’ll discuss it when time is available. I’ve given my word.”
She watched as he marched away and sighed mentally. She still felt like she was just flailing her arms in an information vacuum, hoping against the odds this all worked out somehow. She just hoped all the potions she’d just purchased would be enough. Between this resupply, the Brotherhood’s personnel, and what meager scraps she might get from her own people, she just might have enough to bet on hope.