Irwin stood in the center of his room and focused on his Coperion Body skill. To his surprise, it activated with a soft crooning sound. Before he could wonder where it came from, he felt himself grow more compact. Within moments his weight pressed heavily on his soles, reminding him of the first time he'd gotten the card. A look at his arm showed a deep copper-colored skin that gleamed like brushed metal. Tapping it made the sound of metal on metal.

"Not bad, kid! Now you only need to reforge it to rare, and you can use it to offset your cold resistance at least for a small amount of time," Ambraz said.

Irwin grinned, the skin of his face responding as it always did, the skin movement seeming unimpeded by the change of material. He walked around, his feet thudding heavily on the ground.

I wonder how long this will last, he thought.

Roughly ten minutes later, the skill stopped. He felt a rush of power as his body became lighter, but at the same time, he felt the cold press upon him more. With a shiver, he pulled his jacket closer as a thought surfaced.

So, I can use this in an emergency with cold, Irwin thought, feeling slightly relieved. Then he thought back to something he'd pondered before.

"Do you think I can find a card that lets me absorb heat and store it for later?" he asked as he stepped closer to the fireplace.

"How would I know?" Ambraz snapped. "They exist, but if they are in a backwater place on a backwater planet? No idea!"

Irwin sighed and looked at the shuttered window. More snow was filtering through the edges, and the howling of the wind showed the blizzard was still blowing full force. Wondering how Daubutim was doing, he quickly grabbed the book and began reading about the many different ways to work iron.

A few hours later, he threw the book on the table in disgust. The howling had only increased, and when he took a peek through the shutters, he had seen a chaotic wall of snowflakes roiling around the tower.

Annoyed, Irwin moved to the fireplace and gazed into the fire as he continued to wait out the storm.

Many hours later, tired and weary, he crawled into bed, the storm still raging.

--

A dull knocking woke Irwin, and he took a deep breath of freezing air.

Cold!

Opening his eyes, he saw a plume of air spiral away as he exhaled. White crystals lined the walls, and he felt the chill even through the blankets. The dull thudding came again, the door shaking.

"I'm awake," he croaked. "Give me a moment!"

There was a grunted reply for him to hurry.

Crawling out from under the blankets, he summoned his flame, increasing its heat as much as he could. A wave of hot air rippled away from it, and he looked up to see a small pile of snow beneath the window. The wind outside had died down.

Clothes on, he kept his flame up as he opened the door, staring into Hutch's annoyed face.

"You were supposed to come and find me yesterday!" the bare-armed guard snapped, hands on his hips and showing no indication of any discomfort from the cold.

"It was too cold," Irwin said. "I can't handle the cold."

Hutch blinked, then snorted. "Bah, you better get used to it. Now, follow me." He turned and stomped off.

Irwin sniffed but kept quiet about his weakness. Hutch would probably think he was trying to get pity. So, quietly, he followed the guard through the towers to the training area, which was empty. He had no idea how late it was, but it had to be early. Hutch moved to the rack with weapons and threw him a pair of gauntlets, grabbing two for himself too.

"Alright, we have until the first of those brats arrive, so let's go," Hutch said as he moved to the sparring area.

"What exactly are we going to do?" Irwin asked as he stared at the guard who was stretching and swinging his arms around. The guard couldn't mean-

"Spar," Hutch said as he pointed in front of him. "I fully expect you have only days before you need to join a group. I pulled some strings, and you can join Tomma's group. They are short two."

And I should be happy about this? Irwin thought as he stared at the guard. "I would rather go with Daubutim," he said.

"His group is full, and you don't fit with them," Hutch said as he raised his arms. "Alright, I'm going to attack you the same way a dozen times. Try to anticipate and retaliate."

Irwin barely had time to raise his hands when a jab connected with his chin, followed by a punch in the gut. He blinked as the gauntleted fist appeared again and barely had time to move his head to the side, getting a graze across his cheek.

Hutch pulled back, grinning at him. "You are a really good punching sack," the guard said. "Now, get ready. Here I come again."

Irwin fared little better than the first time, nor did he manage to get even a single hit in for the rest of the morning. Still, when the first of the other youths arrived, he at least managed to dodge the punches to the face, which was good, as his face was feeling puffy and painful.

"Alright! Not bad, come back tonight," Hutch said as he backed up.

Irwin dumbly nodded before staggering away.

--

Hutch tried to keep his grin up as he gazed after the odd Lordling.

It's like hitting a slab of wood, he thought, trying to ignore the stinging sensation from his knuckles. Even the thick slab of wood and leather of the gauntlets hadn't been enough to dull it. He suddenly had a whole lot more respect for Sebastian.

Still, the toughness wouldn't be enough to save the boy if he had to fight Nyzir. Their claws were razor sharp, and they moved hellishly fast. Hutch hadn't even used his own enhanced speed, and he'd already easily been faster then the boy.

Still, if he combines his cards, he should get a good bump to that ridiculous toughness and strength, Hutch thought

With a final look at the door, he turned to the others, pushing Orwin out of his mind.

--

"You look like someone used your face as an anvil," Timrdir said. "Is that why you didn't come yesterday?"

Irwin shook his head, wincing at the painful stretching. "No, it was the blizzard," he said as he moved deeper into the smithy, enjoying the heat that wiped away the cold. Even with his flame out, the wind had been strong enough to cool him down rapidly.

Trimdir didn't respond, and Irwin began practicing hitting while focusing on his cards. He managed fifteen hits before it dropped, staring in wonder at the iron. The improvement over the previous day was staggering. Was all that because he had used Eyes of the Blaze to read his cards?

Having no answer for it, he continued for an hour before bringing metal to the smiths.

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Midway through, a commotion from the door caught his attention. A dozen guards moved inside, and Trimdir met them in the middle of the forge. Slowly the other smiths stopped working, and a silence hung in the otherwise loud room. The lead guard was someone Irwin had seen before, the bald and bare-armed guard that trained another group of guards and rangers to be.

"Tomma, why are you here?" Trimdir's voice carried loud enough that everyone could hear.

"How far are you with the last order of chest plates and swords?" the guard asked as he looked around tiredly.

"Not even half done. You know it has only been a week…"

"I know, and I'm sorry, Trimdir. Can you bring what you have out? We will bring it to the guard towers and distribute it," Tomma said.

"For whom to use?" Trimdir asked cooly, his face stoic as it usually was when anyone but smiths were here.

Tomma looked around, and Irwin could see him hesitate. Then the guard shrugged. "Lord Bron has begun the creation of a militia to help guard the walls and the different guard towers."

Irwin swallowed as he saw the different smiths begin looking around worriedly.

"And who is to be in those militias?" Trimdir said.

"Trimdir, you know I can't-"

"Who?" Trimdir asked, his voice now as cold as the snowy wind outside.

Tomma gnashed his teeth and pointed at Trimdir's office. Without waiting, Trimdir spun on his heel and led him there. Tomma slammed the door shut, leaving a host of confused and worried smiths and some uncomfortable guards in the room.

Irwin looked around, then took a deep breath and turned to his anvil. Time is running shorter. I need to learn how to do this! He gritted his teeth and, with an extreme force of will pulled all three of his cards into focus. Then he began striking the iron, his blows clangingly loudly through the silent smithy.

He heard a startled curse, ignored it, and continued. Perhaps it was the silence, everyone watching spurring him on, or the worry of the mounting troubles outside, but Irwin kept striking and striking, easily holding his cards focused. A trance-like state came over him, and time slipped by as he focused on the hammer, the iron, and his card.

At some point, he noted that the sound of the iron was becoming clearer, but he only snapped out of it when a dull ring echoed from the iron. Hammer raised for another blow, he stared dumbly at the flattened iron, barely an inch of thickness remaining. Thudding and hammering came from all around, and as he turned, he saw the other smiths were busy, and the guards had left.

Trimdir stood nearby, staring at him intensely. When Irwin looked back, Trimdir stepped forward and handed him a big mug of water.

"Did you keep the focus on every hit?" the smith asked as Irwin gulped it down.

"Yes… I think so," Irwin said as he tried to recall having dropped it.

He couldn't, and he wondered if he could even replicate the feat again. Probably not as smoothly, though he very much wanted to try and attain the same trance-like state again. It had felt incredible.

Trimdir gazed at him harshly, then nodded as he took the iron and inspected it. "Not bad for a non-focused purification," he said before staring at Irwin's hand.

After a few uncomfortable moments, he shook his head. "Just the common and two uncommons. I don't understand..." he muttered. "It has to be that metal card you have."

Irwin didn't respond, keeping his face emotional.

Perhaps its the special card?

"Alright, from now on, you don't have to move the metal. Focus solely on this," Trimdir said as he held the slab of flattened iron.

"As you continue, try to sense the vibrations in the metal resonate with your cards. If you keep them in focus, they will resonate more at the start, which is what will interrupt your concentration. Make sure you hit those parts harder. The resonance in the iron should diminish, and you have to find the spots where the resonation is hardest, trying to whittle them down."

Irwin nodded as he tried to absorb what he had heard.

"Each time you finish a piece of iron, bring it to me, and I'll show you what you could have done better," Trimdir said. He seemed to want to speak more, then sniffed and turned around.

"Trimdir, what did the guard say?" Irwin asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

"I can't tell you yet, but you will probably find out soon enough," Trimdir said without looking back.

I'll have to ask Jousithr tonight, Irwin thought.

As he did, his thoughts moved to Daubutim, and he wondered if his friend was alright. Then he thought of Greldo, and his shoulders sagged. Two friends, both in trouble, one possibly more than the other. And what of his mother and brother? He gazed into the fire, lost in an increasingly turbulent feeling of being lost when a louder-than-normal hammer strike jogged him out of it.

No. No time to lose myself in worry, he thought as he gripped the hammer handle and glared at the pile of raw iron.

He grabbed a new piece with his tongs and held it into the burning furnace nearby.

Ambraz needs to start teaching me how to reforge cards, Irwin thought as he forcefully pulled his cards into focus.

The day passed in a blur of focus and hammering, but he didn't manage to get into the trance-like state.

When he finally returned to his own room, he was cold, tired, and mentally drained.

His hopes of seeing his friend were dashed when there was no sign of Daubutim. Both beds were rumpled and unmade, the table and chairs as he had left them.

Staring at the table, then the cold hearth, Irwin turned, slammed the door shut, and headed for the mess hall. A massive line stood before the kitchen, and he ignored it, searching for Daubutim and Pytin. After a moment, he saw Jousithr waving at him from the back, and he strode forward, his worry growing.

"Where are they?" he asked, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Calm yourself, Orwin. They are alright, really. One of the rangers with them came back to warn Hutch- It's just…" the twitchy noble looked around as if afraid someone would overhear.

"Two portals, one common and one uncommon, have appeared between them and us," he said, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Their group had to stay in one of the Guard Towers deeper in the hills or risk getting caught in a surge during the night."

"By Gelwin's Beard," Irwin hissed as he dropped into a stool. "How did they get that far out? I thought they were with the group that scouted the surroundings?"

Jousithr shook his head, staring at his hands. "I don't know, I don't know, but things are going badly. Another group of refugees managed to reach us today, and…" he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There are rumors of Very Rare portals having opened around Esterdon."

Irwin sucked in a breath, his heart hammering in his throat. "Did any surges appear?" he whispered back.

"Nobody knows- Jill, the daughter of a Lord I know, was with the refugees. She said they came across multiple common portals in clusters when moving here, but they lacked the people to close them."

Irwin didn't say anything but quietly sat opposite the lanky Lordling for a long time, staring at the table until his stomach rebelled. With a sigh, he rose, staring at the now much shorter line in front of the kitchen.

"Do you want anything?" he asked.

Jousithr shook his head and didn't look up. He was muttering something about regens, portals, and linchpins again, but Irwin didn't bother to listen. He'd long since stopped understanding what the other boy was talking about, especially when he started about alchemy.

When he finally returned with a plate of hot but simple food, Jousithr was gone. Feeling alone and sad, he forced the food down his throat before heading back to his room.

Slamming the door shut, he power-started the fireplace with his flame, sat down at the table, and pulled Ambraz from his pocket.

"Eej! Easy there," the Anvil grunted as he flew up and around rapidly, seeming annoyed at being grabbed.

"Sorry," Irwin said halfheartedly. "Did you hear what Jousithr said?"

"About a very rare portal? Yes… there's nothing you can do about it right now," Ambraz said with a sniff.

"Teach me reforging cards."

The anvil's metal lips quirked up. "Hungry for knowledge, are we? I can relate! Well, though I'd prefer you learn to purify metal more, I guess we can at least start. You might just get killed before then otherwise, and that won't help either of us. But… we need some more common cards first."

Irwin frowned, then fumbled in his coat and took out the Storm Leaves card, the only card he had left.

"Ah, that one. Yes… it would be a waste if you ruin it, but I guess we don't have much of a choice," Ambraz said. "You should see if you can find any merchants with cards tomorrow. You do realize you might break that one?"

"I don't think I want it anyway," Irwin said as he gazed at the lifelike image of the leaves on the simple card. "It doesn't feel right."

"Yes, I guess it would be weird, blowing around leaves when you keep setting things on fire," Ambraz grunted. "Still, I think you underestimate how strong it can get, and fire needs air."

Irwin frowned but nodded. To get a small fire going, you had to blow in it gently, and the forges had bellows to supply them with air. It made sense, but…

"Fine, fine, let's get started," Ambraz snapped as he flew to the center of the room.

With a thud, he changed to a larger form, dominating the mostly empty room. Luckily he wasn't as massive as he had been when he reforged the cards because Irwin didn't think the floor would have held him.

"Right, put the card on my surface and focus on your own cards as you do for purifying metal."

Irwin did as asked, and he was happy it only took him a minute to connect all three in his mind.

"Alright, as soon as you are done, strike with your fist on top of the card," Ambraz said.

Irwin hesitated, remembering the last time he'd touched the anvil and a card simultaneously. The pain was something he'd probably never forget.

"Don't worry. I won't do anything. Besides, the first time is always so confusing it's easier for you to see it before I explain," Ambraz said, seemingly reading his mind or seeing the fear on his face.

Steeling himself, Irwin struck down on the card. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen. Then a burst of light erupted from it, blinding him.

"Keep your hand there," Ambraz snapped just as he was about to pull back.

Blinking away the spots, Irwin did as asked, and as his vision returned, he saw shapes in various colors hovering above the anvil. Green and brown shapes that roughly looked like leaves and silvery white streaks that somehow made him think of wind. In between hung black, disgusting blotches and shiny stars of light, he couldn't look into directly.

"Neat, huh?" Ambraz said, sounding proud and happy at the same time. "Welcome to the ranks of the small percentage of beings who've ever seen the inner workings of coalesced, remnant soul cards!"