Author's notes:

Hello and thank you for taking your time to read through my story. This is the first time I seriously try to write one of my stories, so any kind of feedback, good and bad alike, is highly appreciated. English is not my first language, but I hope my writing is clean (enough). But please, I personally hate grammatical errors, so if you spot any (WHEN you spot any!), please notify me to fix them.

Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter VI: Enchanting

Kathlyn skipped all the way towards her house grinning wildly. She flashed a smile at the knights on guard as she waved towards them, and entered.

Inside, in the grant living room, there was her father, studying some papers, probably reports, while her mother was on the sofa going through her correspondence. He raised his gaze and looked at her puzzled.

"Where’s the sword?"

"I’ll bring it tomorrow father"

"...Why?"

"Ehe, it seems I’ve messed up"

"…*You* messed up? And what’s up with this appearence? Don’t you think it’s little over the top for just a simple evaluation?"

Her mother perked up, like on cue, her gaze alternating between her husband and Kathlyn. 

"Don’t be ridiculous dear, for a fine young lady it is imperative to appear at her best at all times. Unless you forget I met *you* in *just* a fighting drill"

"Mother, father," She interrupted their banter with a polite bow, "I’ll be up to my room"

As he watched his daughter climbing up the stairs he turned towards his wife that seemed to have dived straight into the letters on her hands.

"Did you tell her anything about the barbarian?"

"I’m mostly disturbed about your antiquated views on our daughter’s wardrobe. There was a time when you still used to care about your appearance as well. And now, look at you…"

"Elsa!"

"…I may have mentioned that his previous trainer was a really, really, strong mage" 

He spent a minute looking at her innocent smile before letting his head slump between his shoulders.

"Sigh… I always feared that the way I trained her was too much for her age, but sometimes, I swear to gods, I wonder if you have trained our daughter to become a monster…"

"Just the basics dear. Just the basics."

*

On her way to her room, Kathlyn knocked the door next to hers.

"Mira, come a bit on my room"

As the plump, middle aged, woman entered the room, she found Kathlyn struggling with her dress.

"Help me out of this damned corset Mira. I swear, the one who discovered them was a sadist!"

"Yes young mistress" Mira said as she began working on the strained straps on the young woman’s back.

"I’ll also need you afterwards if you can. I want you to help me a bit with this" She said while her finger circled her face.

"You are already beautiful milady…"

"Nonono, now I’m more close to, let’s say, dazzling. I want to change it a bit towards lovely, cute... you know!» she said as she flashed her another smile.

"… yes milady…"

Kathlyn watched herself in the mirror as the middle aged woman gently touched her face. She saw the familiar life magic circles appear close to her head. Delighted, she watched as her features slowly became softer, less edged, her cheeks a bit more flushed, her eyebrows just an idea smaller and less sharp and her eyes seemed to almost enlarge.

She watched as Mira worked her magic. It wasn’t one single big change. There were dozens diminutive changes, but the end effect was like night and day apart. Of course, the idea was for the differences to be more like excellent make up, no one would think that she was a different person, or anything like that, but, on the other hand, everyone would wonder how they had previously missed such a detail on her.

"You are a lifesaver Mira." She said as she looked at the end result.

"Are you sure young mistress? All this for just a... barbarian?"

"No! Gods no! It isn't *just* the barbarian, there are a lot of reasons. Although, I have to admit, he does have some nice... assets." She winked towards her flushed maid.

"Now, on to the dresses..."

*

Martyn was twirling the broken branch that he had collected earlier this morning. If somebody back in his village would have told him that getting a piece of wood would have been so mentally exhausting, he would have laughed till dawn. But here, it seemed that going out to the nearest trees and snapping a single branch, was reason enough to make everyone stop in their tracks and look at you like you are some kind of animal.

At least, news about the barbarian living in the administration building, like some kind of guest, had spread, boomed, and like all gossips, died. Sure, people still looked at him weirdly, or disgusted, but at least it wasn't open hostility.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for Kathlyn before starting his transmutations, but he knew that it would be a lengthy process, and if he was to enchant the blade, as well, in the same day, he didn't have a lot of time to waste.

Making a decision, he let the branch on the stone floor as he started to form the symbols on top of it. Within minutes, without so much as a single flame, or smoke, the wood shrivelled as it turned black. Small pieces of it breaking apart as it turned to coal, burned from within.

He picked a medium sized piece of it and an iron ingot and sat as comfortably as he could on his bed. Transmutation, as his Master had taught him, even thought it was technically runic magic, was as close to pure magic as it could get. The spell itself was really simple, but the result was affected to a huge degree by his mind. If his vision would falter, so would the end product.

He emptied his mind of all obstructions, he calmed his emotions as much as he could, and closed his eyes.

He was now in his familiar smithy back in his village. The forge was burning and the bellows were pushing air to fan the flames so hard that made the coals light up blindingly yellow. In the middle of the oven, inside its cast, an iron ingot was melting, almost turning to a bright, gold, liquid. An invisible hammer smashed at it, infusing the fine coal dust inside the metal before it was tossed into the water bucket to be cooled, only to be thrown back into the forge. Again and again the metal melted and reformed, absorbing increasing amounts of coal, until he felt its elasticity and toughness were perfect.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the crumbled coal piece on his left hand, and at the steel ingot in his right hand, tough, and ready to be tempered. He repeated the process four times, just to be sure that he would have enough steel to work with, before arranging them in front of him, alongside a small piece of wood, for the handle, that he had kept. 

"And now... the hard part" he whispered as he laid his hands on top of the pile.

He was in the fields outside his village, sword in hand, as a pack of wolves, the size of mountain lions, was circling around him. One of them dashed forwards towards him, only to have its head, cleanly, severed by his swing. One by one the, unending, horde kept rushing to its death, and with each swing the weight of the blade shifted, becoming more and more comfortable, until there was no blade... just a natural extension of his arm.

As the last wolf died, a giant oult emerged from the edges of the forest. He took the beast's furious charge head on, using the blade as a shield. The collision causing the metal to chip at the edges for an instant, before he willed it to become as new again. Time and time again the oult would try to gut him, only to find its vicious tusks blocked by the flat of the blade, and with each block, the blade would harden, until, finally, there was not a single scratch left from the strikes. 

Satisfied, Martyn grabbed the sword at its hilt with both his hands, and cleaved into the thick hide of the oult. He kept slashing at it, until there was no resistance, until his blade could pass through the beast like it was made out of thin air.

Finally, he was back at his smithy again. The sword rested on top of his anvil and he was holding his trusty old hammer and a thick, metal, stamp. Carefully, with a single solid blow, he engraved his mark, a crossed out circle, on the base of the blade.

Mentally exhausted, Martyn opened his eyes and looked at the hand-and-a-half sword resting at his lap. His eyes shot up, at Kathlyn's gentle smile, as she was sitting there, in her usual, makeshift, stone stool.

"M-Miss Kathlyn... how long have you been here?" He asked, looking at the afternoon sun outside of his window, before returning his gaze to her face.

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She looked... different. He couldn't place how exactly, but she seemed more approachable, more... earthly. "Maybe it's her smile" he thought, noticing how softer it appeared. "Or her, thank the gods, more, normal clothes" he ended his short evaluation, looking at the fullbodied, sleeved dress. It still hugged her figure perfectly, and it still toned her gifts, but at least they weren't out in the open for all to ogle.

"I told you to call me Kat! And it's been just a few hours. It's always enthralling to see a transmutation. To see the metal take shape, sharpen, harden, and bit by bit, becoming more and more perfect." She said enthusiastically.

"A servant brought you some food a while back, it's over there by the edge. You should really start locking your door! Someone could have easily stepped in and stab you in the back while you were lost in your mind." She nonchalantly continued while retaining her innocent smile.

Martyn couldn't stop staring at her, stunned, at how easily she blurted that last bit out, and how true it was. "Are there people that really want to kill me just for being here?" He shook his head, dispelling the unpleasant thought.

"Now, eat a bit before continuing with the enchantment!"

*

Martyn was standing in the middle of the room, sword in hand, as he was made as few shadow stabs and slashes in the air, trying to gauge its weight. He tested its sharpness on the flesh of his left arm and inspected every inch of blade and the handle, before concluding.

"Yeah, it's an ok sword, usable. Should I try for a specific enchantment?"

"Anything is fine. This is just so that they can judge the extend of your training"

He sat back to the bed again as he started forming the magic circles.

Enchanting was like the opposite of transmuting. While both were runic magic, and both used the inner image of the mage as well as the runes of the old gods to fuel the spell even further, there was a clear distinction in which was the deciding factor in each occasion. For transmutations, a badly drawn circle would just meant a tougher to transmute item, and a single circle was used for each item.

On the other end, for enchanting, every ability, every property, every trait, had a very specific runic circle. The strength of the enchantment was tied directly to your mana and to how sharp your circles were. A slightly deformed symbol could make the differance between a flaming sword, and a blade that just produced a bit of heat. And, of course, you could only enchant an item using the spells, and their very specific runic circles, you already knew.

Martyn went with the two enchantments he knew best, the ones he kept doing on all items he made for his fellow warriors: stronger, and sharper.

He concentrated on the circles as they formed, willing his thin threads of mana to carefully construct the runes on the circle. He kept redrawing the ones he felt weren't perfect, he kept pushing for the clearest, the most perfect, runes he could make, until about an hour had passed and he felt ready to unleash his remaining mana on the circle, half of it on each enchantment.

Completly spent, he rose and stretched his back as he smiled towards Kat.

"There you go, one day's worth of work ready to be judged."

"Great! Is is any good?"

Martyn thought for a bit, till he spotted the stone stool.

"So... You're pretty good with stone right? Could you repair the walls of the rooms if they get damaged?"

"Sure!"

With Kat's confirmation, he smiled confidently, as he spinned and slashed at the stone wall. The wall chipped as shards of stone exploded from where his sword had struck. Without pausing, he assumed a combat stance and started a series of slashes towards his immobile, stone enemy. Each time the blade struck, it would go a few inches deep, breaking the surrounding structure. With a final breath, Martyn jumped half a step back, grabbed the handle with both his hands, and, with the full weight of his body behind it, threw himself towards the wall, stabbing it. Smilling, he released the handle and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

The, once unmarred, surface of the wall was just a mess of slashes, cracks, breaks, and chipped stones, and a sword was impaled, a good palm inside its middle.

Martyn retrieved the blade, carefully inspecting the edge to make sure that his strengthening enchantment had prevented any kind of damage to the actual steel.

"The enchantment has enough mana to retain it strength for at least two, three, more days" He triumphantly declared, pleased with himself, before handing the blade to the young woman who looked at him excited as she clapped her hands.

She took the blade, and Martyn saw her eyes glowing white, as she channeled her mana to check his handiwork. As she walked by him to reach the wall, she almost brushed against his shoulders, and the smell of a sweet fragrance almost made him break the smug grimace off his face.

She touched the wall, and Martyn saw the breaks and the gaps closing as, slowly, the wall returned to its previous state.

With beaming eyes, she turned towards him.

"That was perfect! You certainly are at the level of our apprentices! Judging by those enchantments and this crafting, I'm sure that you'll do just fine!"

Matyn felt petrified as his smug smile slowly left his face.

"...Apprentice huh?"

"Yes!... Why... Oh! You hoped for higher? Don't be disheartened. You must realise that this academy is full with exceptional people. For other places you could easily be at the level of beginner adepts! But the Countess sets the bar too high. Now, excuse me, I need to hurry this to be properly evaluated."

Still, not wanting to admit defeat, Martyn mumbled as she was leaving, more to himself rather than anyone else.

"Well... If i had enchanted something I crafted with my hands, it would have turned out better"

Kat paused and turned towards him, looking at him puzzled.

"Why is that?"

Martyn shrugged. "I don't know, isn't that normally just how enchanting works?"

*

"This took a bit of time." Her father said as he was examining the sword in his hands. "But it is a nice blade. Too bad that our men can only use it two handed, instead of both one handed and two handed as it is intended to. He should seriously consider making the weapons a bit smaller than he is accustomed to now that he is here."

He placed his hand on the flat of the blade and whispered as he infused a bit of his mana inside.

"Shatter"

Smilling, he infused a bit more. "Shatter."

Shards of metal flew away as the blade broke into small fragments.

"The enchantments are well woven and sturdy, despite him only investing a meager amount of mana in them. Really solid work." He said as his eyes started glowing white. The fragments slowly started flowing in the air as they converged towards the broken main body, and in a few minutes, the blade was whole once more.

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there a difference if you enchant a crafted item and a transmuted one?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just thought of something..."

"A blade is a blade Kathlyn, it makes no difference how it was made, as long as it was well made."

*

"Miiiira" Kat shouted from her room.

Soon, the door opened and the plump caretaker made her appearance.

"Are you busy? Can you drop by the smithy and bring me a dagger? Tell then smith that I'll return it tomorrow along with the rest of the iron I've borrowed."

Half an hour later, Kat was studying the steel dagger Mira has brought her, her eyes glowing in the dark. She locked her door, walked towards the stone chest by the side of her bed, opened it, and placed her hand on the inside of its lid. Slowly, the stone parted, revealing four identical daggers.

Kat picked one, sat crosslegged on the floor and started transmuting it until it was identical to the one she had gotten from the smithy. With a dagger in each hand, she concentrated and simultaneously, two identical magic circles formed, one on each blade. "Sharpen" She whispered.

Standing still, in the middle of her room, one dagger in each hand, she smiled. She pulled back both of her hands, and with a sharp motion, she sent them flying, perfectly in sync with each other as they pierced the wall opposite of her.

She walked up close, studying the blades that were embedded in the cold stone. Each one had penetrated the wall for exactly the same length.

"So, he is either wrong, or... interesting." She mused, as she pulled the daggers out of the wall, the holes instantly closing behind them.