Like the great leaders of his home, Afinov stands still as an unyielding sentinel. Below him is his daughter. A girl- no, a woman now. She hunches over a gauntlet with a stylus working in hand. He can see her focus and the struggles of her body to withstand the rapid depletions of her mana reserves. A task normally easier for his kin, but not when they are so young.

Even so, she continues to struggle, and struggle she does. The first three runes went without problem, but the fourth and fifth took far more effort and mana. If she’d stopped at five runes, she would have her level. But, like his wife, she strives to beat perceptions.

The sixth rune is where advanced classes strive to master. It is the initial realm of exceptional quality equipment. A realm only the very best are capable of surpassing.

Nearing the end of the sixth rune, he notices her body shaking. As mana depletes, so does the ability to manifest and control it. With age, control, efficiency, and even supply will improve. Even so, she is almost done. She is at the final stage, and a single mistake will end in complete failure.

When gemma are runeing, complete silence is expected so as to remove distraction. It is expected that those present are to be watching sentinels. Emotionless work is thought to create the best and most numerous runes.

It is what the great forge teaches and is what is commonly expected.

But, during Afinov’s pirating days with his wife, what he’d found was that the best work he’d ever done was in passion. He remembers the warmth of the ship's forge, the creaking of the hull, the loud rambunctious noise of the crew, and the love of his wife's presence beside him.

Going against all his training, Afinov raises his hand and places it upon his daughter. “Do not relent. Focus. Persevere!” he encourages.

And like that, her struggles halt. The trembling of her body stops. With renewed focus, his daughter continues the final rune. Her strokes become better, smoother, just as her grip is firmer.

Without realizing it, the skin on his lips and cheek crack. Her hand glides the last bit of the rune.

As soon as the rune is complete, her arm gives way. The stylus drops on the floor as would her body had he not held her in place.

“I,” she takes a trembling breath, “Did it.”

With struggle, his daughter looks up at him with a relieved smile. Her eyes then close and she falls into dreamland.

Kneeling down, he picks up his unconscious daughter and carries her to her room. He carefully places her on her bed and then returns to the workshop.

He looks at the item.

Name

Wolven Gauntlet Of Fisticuffs.

Rarity

Exceptional - 6 Runes.

* 3(1-Durability)

* 1(1- Pierce Resist)

* 1(1-Crush Resist)

* 1(1- lightweight)

Description

This armor is +60% more durable, +50% resilient to piercing, +50% resilient to crushing, +40% lighter.

Sustain

0.06% Mana Regen per Minute.

The gauntlets are thicker than normal, with the metal extending a bit farther than where the elbows end. With the primary titanium construction, lightweight rune, and a high strength of the wielder should make the metal adequately usable. The three durability runes alongside pierce and crush resist should allow the armor to easily withstand even epic level equipment.

Now, all of the runes are simple. They aren't necessarily complicated, nor do they take much skill to produce. But, six runes before becoming an advanced class is something only the most gifted would be capable of producing.

“Enjoy your level,” he whispers warmly. He grabs the gauntlets and places them on another table. Then he takes the second gauntlet and places it on the worktable. He then prepares for the next day. He hopes it will be easier once she has her new class and skill.

_________________________________________________________________

Though you can't tell, Cillian used to box when he was younger… and less plump. He wasn’t the best or anything, but it was a sport he enjoyed. That was until he took too many hits to the head which caused a brain hemorrhage. He’d died in a hospital bed for a good minute before getting revived. Somehow, he left without any permanent mental or physical injury. Regardless, he quit boxing and started a career in business after the scare. He vowed to never box again.

But, that doesn’t stop him from watching.

Quasi in his Fenrimorph form is airboxing like a professional in the workshop. Jabs, crosses, lead hooks, rear hooks, lead uppercuts, rear uppercuts. All of which he does with perfect form alongside the weight of elbow length metal gauntlets that cover the scars on his arms. He swerves left, right, ducks forward, uppercut, jab. Somehow, even though the digitigrade legs are different from the humans, they seem to transfer more force into the punches.

After five minutes, Quasi finally stops airboxing. He walks to Cillian, removes the gauntlets, and gives them to the Scot. Then, in a puff of smoke, he turns into a cat.

“Emma, the gauntlets are amazing! They’re weighty, but not too much. They also feel durable as hell. I love it.”

Emma grins widely. “I’m happy you like them. It’s my first piece of exceptional equipment.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Quasi hops up on a nearby table. “Well, it feels exceptional. Speaking of which, did you get that level you wanted?”

She nods. “Yes. I am now a level twenty seven [Runesmith].”

“You gained three levels?”

“I got a level from the first gauntlet and two from the second.”

Quasi blinks. “Oh. Right. Well, good on you. Thanks for the gauntlet.” The cat looks at Cillian. “Even so, you’ve spent like half a month working on the gauntlets without pay. So,” Quasi waves a paw.

Cillian places the gauntlets on a nearby table. He reaches into a bag on his side. The bag jingles with the sound of metal. “I’m not sure how much it costs to make runes equipment, so I hope this would be an acceptable payment.”

“Better be.” Cillian grumbles as he hands her a bag.

Emma, surprised and curious, accepts the bag. She opens it to find two dozen Kilo-trists.

“This is too much!”

“Told you,” Cillian adds.

“Hush, you cheap Scot. It’s not like the trist is coming from your investments.”

“I’m supposed to be in charge of the money,” he whines.

“Which you mostly are, but not all of it.” Quasi rolls his eyes. “Seriously. You should be happy with the income from selling the weapons, armor, and the Imminent Huntress. You should have plenty of income to buy whatever trading good you want.”

Cillian sighs. “I would if we didn’t need to restructure the Timbergrove. That was surprisingly expensive.”

Quasi blinks. “Restructure? The ship’s restructured?”

The Scot frowns. “When was the last time you went inside the Timbergrove?”

“Ughh, like, two weeks ago? Look, I’ve been busy hunting down the breakers and stealing their stuff.”

Emma jingles the bag in her hand. “Is this stolen?” she asks.

“No,” Quasi answers. “It’s not stolen. It was just left behind by the deceased- actually. Don’t distract me. Cillian, what the fuck happened to my ship?”

Cillian shakes his head. “That other ship, the Sedens Orbit I think its name was. Well, the ship's cannons are too long and wide to fit the Timbergrove. So Irmgard paid to have the gunports expanded. She also paid to install the ballista on the ship. But the most expensive part is she completely redesigned much of the ship's internals. The damn woman spent more than half of our profits!”

“Ok… I’m fine with the cannons and the ballista. Ballista are cool. But why change the internals?”

“It was Myers' idea.”

Quasi quickly relaxes. “Oh, well, if it's him then it is probably fine.”

“It was expensive!”

Quasi waves a paw. “It’s fine. We’ll make due. Emma, thanks for the hard work. These gauntlets will really help me compete.”

Quasi hops off the table. “Cillian, grab the gauntlets and let's head to the ship. I’m kinda curious about the changes.”

“When will you be leaving?” Emma quickly asks.

The cat pauses. He looks back. “Probably in a week or two.”

“Where?”

Quasi shrugs. “Everywhere.”

“Will you be heading near Lapis?”

“The Gemma capital? Probably. Why the questions?”

She pauses for a moment before answering. “I… I’ll tell you later.”

“Then you’ve got maybe a week. I’ll be on my ship in the meantime.”

With a final farewell, she watches Quasi leave upon his mount.

________________________________________________________________

“It’s red!” Is the first thing out of my mouth when my eyes fall upon the timbergrove.

The majestic vessel of before is less so now. From the sides, five long-range cannons stick out like spider’s limbs. On the deck, a ballista is installed near the bow. It is a large weapon of wood and metal that nearly obstructs the rigging. Nearly impractical of a weapon, but there's something about having the bigger guns. On the side of the ship, metal plates are strategically placed so as to give protection while not obstructing the ship's ability to maneuver horizontally or vertically.

All that weight may be a problem.

“The damn paint was far too expensive.” Cillian grumbles. “Any other color would have cost only a fraction.”

“So why’d they settle for red? Not that I’m complaining too much. Red’s a nice color for the ship.”

Cillian shrugs and continues towards the ship.

“Apparently the paint has a special property to improve mana absorption. Myers said it should make the ship faster.”

I blink. A grin rises on my lips. “Are you telling me that painting the ship red makes it go faster?”

Cillian glances at me on his shoulder. “Myers says so. Why are you smiling so hard? It’s kind of creepy.”

I pat Cillians head. “It is fine my uncultured Scottish servant. You will understand in time. For now, walk faster.”

_______________________________________________________________

Emma enters the workshop and finds her father grinding down a ruby so as to use the powder for runeing. Next to him are several vials filled with the powder of various other crystals. A large number, far more than they usually keep on hand.

“Dad, I want to talk to you about something. Is this a good time?” She asks.

His head turns to her and her eyes meet his. What she finds is sadness and determination.

“You wish to leave.”

“How did you-”

“Your mother did the same when she was your age. She left her home, her friend, her family. All for freedom and adventure. I can already tell you are the same.”

“I want to level. I want to see my mother. I plan on asking Quasi to join his crew.”

“He already said yes.”

Emma pauses in surprise. “He did? When?”

Her father continues grinding. “Before Quasi left with the short human, he told me that if you want, he would allow you to join his crew.”

“And you’re not against this?” She asks, surprised.

“I am saddened, but a flame must breathe to grow stronger. You will level faster aboard his ship.” He stops grinding and pours the dust into one last vial. Then he points in the corner of the room where several large containers are stacked. “I put your mother’s equipment including materials you may need to continue leveling.” He grabs the vials of dust, puts them in a bag, and then carries the bag to the container. “Grab whatever you wish to bring with you from your room. I recommend spare clothes. Few ships have a way to wash oneself.”

He places the bag down. “When you are ready, bring the cart from the back to the front. We’ll load everything up and head to the pier.”

“I… Thank you, dad.”

“Do not waste time. Go. I do not not know how long the cat will wait.”

“Yes!” she rushes out of the workshop.