The Forge
Morwen had just finished supervising the last of the supply loading when she received a message spell. She tapped the fireball, and it unfurled into a scroll like screen that floated in front of her. It was Corporal Yasiin. “Sir, you’d asked to be notified when the Order’s ship arrived. It just emerged on the far side of the moon. They’ll be here shortly and they’ve requested you make the artificer ready for handover.”
Morwen groaned softly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why her mother always insisted on exerting such power plays with her, she’d never understand. Maybe it was because of her station within the Order. Being one of its more powerful artificers afforded her mother a great deal of influence. She schooled her features into something more disciplined before responding.
Forcing the meeting here would only make Morwen look like a mongrel. Which felt fitting, since her mother always looked down on her for not being a pure elf. Perhaps it was some kind of social injury she was inflicting on her daughter. Surprise her while she was playing with the dwarves or something equally trivial.
“Thank you, Corporal. Have Private Akamori prepare the Artificer and report to the cargo bay. I’ll be there shortly.”
She wrapped up her work with Pack’s stall and then cast a quick teleport spell. The surrounding air rippled with violet energies as reality fell in around her. An instant later it billowed back out, the contracting energies suddenly bursting back out and resolving into the cargo bay. She sucked in a deep breath to still the tumbling feeling in her stomach and remind her body she wasn’t actually swaying. No matter how often she’d done that, it still threatened to turn her stomach. She’d always wondered if that resulted from the rapid transit, or the way the power manifested.
She opened her eyes and allowed the last of the vertigo to settle out as she approached the cleared out quadrant of the cargo bay intended for the resupply. She was pleased to see the quartermaster at work sorting all the potions and elixirs she’d just purchased. Turning towards Private Akamori who returned ahead of her and the artificer Kusinaki, she approached them at a steady pace. They hushed their conversation with each other as Akamori snapped to attention and rendered a salute. Kusinaki simply bowed politely.
“Akamori was just telling me about how you’re planning to oppose the Sauridius, and how you’d like to prevent what happened on Hoshun to transpire on other worlds. I regret that my commitments to the Order prevent me from lending further aid,” Kusinaki said.
The young artificer brushed a long black strand of hair from his face. He was a young elf. She figured he couldn’t have been out of his thirties yet, even though he looked as youthful as Akamori did. She gave Akamori an appraising look.
“He was, was he?” she asked with a raised brow. “What else did he say?”
Kusinaki glanced downward, “Little else, I’m afraid. We have had little time to catch up since we departed what remained of Hoshun. I understand your people have kept him very busy.” Kusinaki slapped Akamori in the tricep affectionately, with a warm smile. “I approve, though. He’s grown under your care. I believe his father would be extremely proud.”
Akamori actually smiled at that, and in her presence at that. She fought hard to restrain the surprise and maintain a stern bearing, but the faintest hint of a pleased smile still cracked through. “It pleases me to hear that. I knew little of his people, and I’ve been told you’ve spent a good deal of time with them as a local attaché to the order, so you’re the next and best thing to a historian they now have.”
She caught the movement outside as the Order’s golden and silver shuttle maneuvered into place and then slowly phased through the blue barrier field of the cargo bay. They propelled it with light magic. The golden energy being funneled out of the thruster vents and engine verniers sang to the well of light energy within her own breast. Warm and welcoming, it represented life and purity. Raw energy at its finest. Akamori and Kusinaki turned to watch the shuttle land.
The doors of the shuttle rippled and disassembled into particulate atoms as they folded away to reveal a large rectangular entrance. A moment later, several artificers exited the craft. They all wore white robes with gold trim and silver detailing. A woman with sterner features than she had stepped into the lead, a pure leadership and authority display. She held an ornate golden rod that had a quartet of blue gemstones that floated in a circle around the top of the rod. A lattice work of intricate runes kept them connected as four bands of blue energy pulsed into the goldenrod and back to the stones.
“Morwen,” her mother said with a stiff nod. “Let’s get this over with. I have important meetings to attend that this has delayed me from.”
“Arefhel,” Morwen said with no measure of pleasure. Clearly no love lost for her mother.
Arefhel’s eyes fluttered, a sign she was trying to resist rolling her eyes. “What is it you want this time?”
Morwen folded her arms and squared her shoulders. “I need ammunition. The Brotherhood gets its munitions from your order, and I need to restock my armory. Capital and small arms alike. We’ll be riding into battle soon and while I know you don’t give a damn what happens to me, I’d like to think you at least appreciate the possibility of extracting further financial revenue from me in the future to further enrich yourself.”
Arefhel mirrored Morwen’s posture, her brow arching upwards. She was as cold-hearted as the mythril steel she stood on. But she was clever and losing a long time buyer like Morwen would hurt the archon far worse than losing her only daughter would. “Very well,” she said in a cultured voice. “I trust you’ve brought a list?”
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“I have.” Morwen said, and held out an information card.
Arefhel extended a palm, and a small orb of dark energy glowed around the card as it floated up and then towards her palm, riding changing fields of gravity that she manipulated with precision. Once in her palm, Arefhel activated the card, and it displayed the list of items that Morwen needed.
“How do you plan to pay for all of this?” She asked, looking over the illusionary list.
“My salary with the Federation. Simply bill them and the gold will reroute to you.”
Arefhel nodded, satisfied. “Very well. If there’s nothing else, then we’ll be leaving.” She looked at Kusinaki expectantly.
Kusinaki looked up after struggling internally with something. Morwen knew the look. He’d just made a hard choice, and now he was riding it through.
“There is something else.”
This time, Arefhel’s cultured poise cracked, and she rolled her eyes with a put-upon sigh. “What is it?”
“I want the best armor you make for my friend. If he’s fighting a battle that could determine the fate of the sector, I want to know he’s doing it with the best gear possible.”
Akamori blinked in surprise, holding his hands up and waving dismissively. “Huh? No, leave me out of whatever this is.” Morwen couldn’t blame him. There was a lot of bad blood floating around suddenly, and he had no part in any of it.
“Do it or I don’t go back with you. Don’t think I didn’t know that you were just dumping me off on Hoshun because no one else wanted such a prestige-less position. You left me there, forgotten! Do this? And your debt to me is repaid.”
Arefhel looked at Kusinaki as though she were about to accost him, but Morwen saw something in her mother that looked like shame? Guilt, maybe? Whatever she’d done to him, he’d pinned her to the wall at this moment in a way she never could have. Well played, young one, she thought to herself with a wry smirk. It wasn’t often she got to see her mother put in her place by such a young and novice artificer. No, this was definitely one of those things that happened that you had to be there to believe it happened.
Arefhel deliberated for a moment, then waved a hand dismissively as she finally nodded curtly. “Very well. Your terms are acceptable. The deal is decided. I only have enough to resupply you partially. I’ll have the equipment delivered at once.” She signed her name on the information card, authorizing the transfer of goods as dictated. She then turned to Kusinaki expectantly.
“I settle our debt to each other.”
Kusinaki bowed his head, satisfied with the transaction. He turned and gave Akamori one last smile.
“I’m not a warrior. And I’m only just learning my craft, but at least with this I can help you from a distance. Good luck out there.”
With that said, Kusinaki gave his friend one last hug and then filed into the shuttle. Akamori stood next to the Captain, watching as the young elf boarded the gold and silver shuttle. Arefhel said nothing further and simply turned to file on board the shuttle as well. A moment later, all the munitions she’d requested teleported into the cargo bay, arranged by the ship's consciousness into their respective spots. A moment later, a large ornate case was the last item to teleport over. There was an indentation to place a hand into.
“That must be your armor, private.”
By now the entire squad had filed in, even Lt. Rayshe thought he’d kept some distance from Private Sala, who kept his distance from Akamori.
“Well, go on. Open it up,” Morwen said encouragingly.
Akamori turned to Amara, who also nodded him forward. Morwen recognized the hesitation. He was still unsure of his role in everything. If he was just the last survivor of a nomadic clan of air mages, or if he was now a federation soldier.
Akamori approached the case and placed his hand into the slot, and the case chimed. “Palm print recognized. New owner access authorized. Biometrics imprinting. Standby,” the case said in a sing songy cultured female voice with an elvish accent. Akamori turned to look at Amara, who just shrugged. Sirsir whistled from behind and stood next to her.
“How’d the newbie score a new set of plates?” he asked her softly.
Morwen smirked, “Apparently, all it takes is knowing someone with enough dirt on an Archon to blackmail them into it.”
Sirsir turned to look at her with near shock in his eyes. He’d met Arefhel frequently. If anyone knew how rotten her mother was, Sirsir did. He whistled softly again. “Kid’s pretty damn lucky.”
Morwen nodded, chewing on the comment in a way she hadn’t expected to. “Yes. He rather is, isn’t he?”
A moment passed, and the box pulsed with aetheric energy. Then the case began cubically telescope into itself, revealing a set of armor that stood as tall as Akamori did. It was more ornate and had a blue gem stone mounted in the chest that pulsed a greeting in energy. Akamori touched the armor, and it reached out like it was alive and flowed along his arm, covering every inch of his body until after a few moments it had complete encased him within it. She had to admit, the new dragonmail series of armor designs were exceptionally artisanal. It was slender, curvy, and had a flow to it. It was one of the Order’s finest designs she’d seen them field. To boot, it was a tenth generation. Which meant it possessed all the latest bells and whistles. Including its own sentience.
Seeing it made her miss the armor she’d bartered for the potions. She rubbed her wrist absently; the bracelet was missing. It’s warm, pulsing presence gone. She sighed softly. Her melancholy was interrupted when she heard Lt. Rayshe barking for the Brotherhood officer in charge. Lt. Fennex trotted over and saluted Rayshe, who ignored the salute. Morwen’s brows furrowed, and she marched over.
“Return that man’s salute, Lieutenant Rayshe. Now.” Her voice was stern and level, but it was the tone that carved through all other conversations like a fiery blade.
Rayshe’s face turned so red she was certain it matched his blood. But she didn’t care about his fragile ego or feelings.
“But he’s just a minion.”
“He still bears a rank the same as yours. He rendered you a salute.”
“As he should!”
“And you failed to return it.”
Rayshe ground his teeth. Snapped to attention, his body going ramrod straight, and gave Fennex a crisp salute. Then turned to her, “Satisfied?”
Making this anymore of a scene would just cause problems she had no interest in facing right now. They needed to make all haste to get to Hidros, or she suspected she’d show up with fewer crew than she started with. She saw Akamori watching the exchange. Concern gripped her that Rayshe’s attitudes might imprint on the younger batch of enlisted mages. She’d long neglected the weed that was Rayshe’s casual hatred for all things that weren’t elvish or revolved around him.
“For now.” She spun on her heels, executing a perfect about face, and marched for the deck to ascend into the ship. Instances like this made her actually long for battle. Everything was simpler in a fight.