The boy wiped the sweat from his forehead as he stared up at the blue sky above. His muscles ached and he swore he could hear his bones creaking out in agony, but he stood straight nonetheless with his back against the sandstone pillar.
“Ryke! Get back in here! Break’s over!
“I didn’t even get to finish my lunch!”
“Too bad! Break is over!”
Ryke opened his mouth to retort but instead just looked longingly at the red fruit in his hand. He did his best to bite into the crimson fruit and wolf it down on his way inside the shop, stopping just to look into the barrel filled with water outside the door. Cleaning off the leftover fruit on his lips, a golden-eyed and brown-haired youth appeared in the dark reflection of the water, only for the image to be disturbed as the door swung wide open.
“Ryke I swear to the Mother if you aren’t- oh. You’re at the door.”
A wry smile plastered itself across Ryke’s face before the collar of his sleeveless shirt was grabbed and he was pulled into the workshop. Walls of sandstone with marble floors, the sound of his boots against the ground instantly echoed throughout the open room. The blast furnace heated the room beyond measure, and the rest of the room was littered with equipment. An anvil half the size of a man and easily four times the weight, a table covered in blueprints nestled into the corner, and barrels of various liquids set against the wall. The only saving grace in Ryke’s eyes was the lack of a ceiling, letting the heat escape before it could build up any more than it already had in a desert.
Muscle memory and habit simply kicked in as Ryke walked in. He absent mindedly carried himself to the crate of iron ore and pushed it slowly to the anvil where a hammer waited for him. His job was simple: shatter the iron ore so it’s ready for smelting. At least, it sounded simple. The teen smiled wryly before he stood straight and grabbed a larger piece of iron and the hammer.
He could practically feel cracks shooting up his arm as the hammer, which was easily five pounds, struck the mix of rock and mineral. Actual cracks, however, did form on the ore Ryke was working with. With another dull thud and a metallic ring, a majority of the rock fell from the ore itself and he slid the piece from the anvil into the second, empty crate beside it.
“Deblin Village ordered a few extra tools this month, so make sure to hammer out some extra iron, alright? I’ll smelt it when you’re done.” Fairrin’s voice boomed from the other side of the workshop, where the man stood beside a second, larger anvil. His frame had only gotten larger as Ryke aged, and no indication of passing time appeared on the man’s body other than the amount of scars over time.
Ryke stared for a moment as his father brought his hammer down over and over again on the piece of metal in front of him. The man’s body stood immovable like a mountain, twisting at the waist with every strike, bringing out the full force of his body.
“Watching me won’t shatter that ore, boy.”
With a quiet grumble, Ryke turned back around to get back to his work. Trying his best to mimic his father’s stance, he set his feet shoulder width apart and lifted the hammer up over his shoulder, above a second piece of ore.
“Don’t. The rock doesn’t need that much force, you’ll hurt yourself.” Fairrin’s voice once again found its way to his side of the room, a subtle tone of warning laced with some form of approval, even as Ryke frowned and loosened his stance.
“You do it that way, don’t you?”
“We’re not doing the same thing, are we?”
“Basically the same.”
“That lack of understanding is exactly why I’m still telling you how to do it.”
Ryke opened his mouth to argue for a second time that day, just to once again fall silent in the end. For the last five years he had been helping in the workshop, but he had only ever been doing the physical labour. Hardly had he been taught the actual act of weapon or armour smithing. He’d not care that much if he was allowed outside of Jekan, but he was never allowed outside of the town.
“Please tell me you’re not daydreaming about the desert again?” A distinct hissing sound spread through the air, what Ryke assumed to be his father quenching his latest project in one of the many barrels against the walls.
“I’m not daydreaming. Just curious. I’ve never gone that far into the sands you know.”
“You and your mother, just the same I tell you.”
“I had to get my good features from somewhere.”
Ryke heard a loud scoff that was mixed into a chuckle and smiled lightly, bringing his hammer down once again on another piece of ore, covering his hands and forearms in a yellowish grey dust. His hammer was brought up, and then slammed down repetitively, over and over. At some point, Ryke was sure his eyes simply glazed over and his muscle memory took hold as hours passed by without a thought.
The stupor ended when his hand reached into the crate of ore and grasped nothing; his arm felt as heavy as the iron ore he was smashing. The workshop found itself lit only by the setting sun, adding a natural orange glow to the sandstone walls. His clothes long soaked through by sweat, he fell to the ground with heavy breaths.
“Take a moment. We’ll visit your mother tonight.”
Attention drawn by the heavy steps coming his way, Ryke shifted in place to properly see as his father walked over and set his hammer down on the table. “You did a good job with these ones. Won’t take much in the smelter tomorrow to get them melted down.” Fairrin nodded lightly, gripping the crate by the edges before his foot tapped the side lightly, and the crate was suddenly beside the unlit furnace.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Don’t I usually do this well?”
“Aye, but one instance of excellence doesn’t earn continued praise. Continued excellence does. I’ll teach you how to make a weapon proper tomorrow. How’s that?”
Ryke sat straight with a sudden burst of energy, his eyes glowing like golden flames as he dusted himself off. “Really? What did I do? Why?” he asked as he stood up straight, “I’ve been asking for that for months..”
“Because I decided you’re ready. That’s the end of it.” Fairin sighed. “Now go wash up while I make dinner. I managed to pick up some meat today.” The man grumbled out as he tidied the workshop and idly wiped the dust from the anvil, ignoring the silly look on Ryke’s face. Was he being too nice today? As if Ryke could sense the hesitation in Fairrin’s eyes, the teen suddenly bolted out of the workshop and around the house, prompting a laugh from the man.
Ryke stopped behind the house and stood steadily in the sand as he pulled up water from the well with familiar motions, pouring the water into the copper tub at the side. With a quick strip, he found himself wiping off the extreme amount of sand, dust and rock stuck to his skin through sweat.
Fifteen minutes later he found himself waiting at the dinner table inside. Their house was rather nice for being in the outer town, which often prompted the question in Ryke’s mind of whether or not his father purposely chose to live outside of the inner town, the Oasis Area. Their home had a workshop, two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a storage, not to mention a small courtyard.
“I’ve told you already, I like it better out here.” Fairrin said as he placed down two plates on the table, as well as a dish of cut Lilevas Fruit. “Not worth going to the Oasis Area.”
Ryke gave his father a look as he cut into the meat, uncaring of what animal exactly the delicacy came from. “What makes the outer area so worth it?” He asked as he did his best to scarf down a piece of meat. “You’ve the skill to live in the inner area..”
“Your mother is here. That’s all I need. We both know she can’t be moved.” Fairrin didn’t even look up from his meal as he calmly cut his meal into perfectly square pieces. “Besides. The outer townsfolk need my services more. I don’t want to be making ‘art’ for the lucky folk inside.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped as placed an elbow on the table and propped his head up, lazily cutting another piece of his food. “So you have us wallow in mediocrity, instead? Could we not help more people from inside the Oasis Zone?” Ryke waited for a response, though all he received in return was silence.
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As if the sky had been covered by a thin veil of darkness, night had fallen. The courtyard remained dimly lit by a golden light as Ryke stepped through the doors behind his father. The dirt beneath his feet damp, the grass covered in a perpetual dew that never quite made sense to him. Ever since he could remember, this courtyard had always been the same.
The father and son pair had both removed a majority of their clothing, leaving the duo dressed in only a pair of pants as they calmly and quietly made their way along the cobblestone path leading to the courtyard’s center. Their goal was the adolescent tree in the middle with shining leaves of gold, the very same that lit the area so beautifully. Beneath the thin cascade of golden leaves lay a small cross, seemingly carved from the ash grey wood of the very same tree.
Ryke stopped behind his father as the man sat down, cross legged in front of the grave. Fairrin’s empty expression was betrayed by the soft emotion revealed in the dim gold light of the Aurum Tree, his very being seemingly merged with the surroundings as even the branches of the tree above the pair seemed to sway in rhythm with his breath. The older man inhaled suddenly, before he did his best to force a smile.
“How have you been, Elle?”
His father never hid anything from him. The moment Ryke turned six, Fairrin explained to him why most other children in the outer zone of Jekan had two parents whilst his mother seemingly didn’t exist. It did spark in him, however, a curiosity like something he had never had before.
Fairrin would describe his mother to him in stories and Ryke would wait patiently, absorbing every detail he could of the woman he should have called mother, and it only took him a few stories for the boy to realise his gold eyes, often described to be Elysian, were a trait he inherited from this so called mother.
When Ryke turned eight, Fairrin began bringing him to the inner courtyard of their home on his birthday, telling him what happened to Elle, his mother. The man never spoke loudly to Ryke, nor with force. It was simply a gentle voice, as if carried by the wind. Elle had given her life for Ryke’s, and it was a sacrifice the boy needn’t do anything but remember.
So every birthday, his father brought him to the courtyard to sit in front of the Aurum Tree that grew above his mothers grave. While Fairrin would seemingly converse, Ryke would silently pay his respects. Not just to his mother, but to his father. The often silent, brooding and sometimes abrasive albeit attractive, wealthy man, who never moved on from his wife but simply continued loving her even in death.
The one time Ryke had ever asked his father about why he hadn’t tried to move on, Fairrin replied simply, without any anger or disappointment while speaking to his son.
“How could the light of a firefly compare to that of the stars in the sky?”
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“I have yet to figure out how such a bright child can always forget his birthday.” Ryke felt a heavy palm land upon his head, ruffling his hair with some enthusiasm as his father chuckled slowly at his expense; whilst the duo quietly left the courtyard along the cobblestone path.. The boy swiped his hands up in retaliation only to hit nothing but air.
“Well, uhm, maybe it’s because you- keep me so busy every day?” The boy grumbled, leaving the older man to simply laugh more in response. “It’s not my fault you never leave the house, is it?” Fairrin scoffed amidst laughter, patting the thirteen year old heavily on his back.
“From now on, it’s your choice to come see your mother. Whenever you want. Got it?” Fairrin walked by the chained up glaive on the wall, the various tools and antiques on the tables, as well as the various old pieces of parchment on the workbench. The floor hardly seemed to creak at all under the man’s weight, even though Ryke knew his father was at least a couple hundred pounds.
“Do.. do you not want to bring me anymore..?”
“No, you’re simply growing up.”
“I’m thirteen.”
“And?”
“So.. so..?”
Fairrin just shook his head amidst his son’s confusion, stepping through the doorway into his bedroom, lit by a nigh dead candle. “I can’t make you respect a woman you’ve never met your whole life, now can I? You’re not an extension of me.” The door closed softly, sending a small bout of dust flying through the room, forcing Ryke to close his eyes briefly even whilst he still tried to comprehend what his father meant.
He sighed gently, rubbing his eyes with nigh zero effort before looking over towards the doorway of the courtyard and the dim rays of golden light bouncing through the small windows peering into the house; released by the adolescent Aurum Tree.