Once on the street, I pulled my hood over my eyes and headed in the opposite direction from the central square. I felt someone's attention immediately, but it didn't bother me since it was clear that the head of the Thieves' Guild had come to the house not alone. Nevertheless, it seemed right to wander around the city a bit. Besides, I had something to think about.
Yes, the conversation could have ended quite disastrously for me, as the threats from the Master of Shadows were quite real. Only the fact that I managed to maintain relative composure saved me from the "disappearance" that my interlocutor had vividly described. Of course, the negotiations could have been conducted better. Once on the street, under the cool rain, I clearly "saw" the mistakes made. But as they say, "the best is the enemy of the good." I got out, I was alive, and I had even managed to gain some benefit. So, blaming myself for some missed opportunities was still a waste of time.
Turning onto a narrow alley, I quickened my pace, pretending to hurry to shelter from the intensifying rain, then veered off again. I "put on" the Shadow Cloak and quickly crossed a small square, slipping unnoticed in front of a couple of guards who were hiding from the elements under a small awning. Another dash, a new turn, and the feeling of someone else's attention disappeared. Slowing down, I once again took on the appearance of someone in no hurry. Making a large semicircle through the city's streets, I returned to the central square from the opposite side.
By this point, the adrenaline in my blood had subsided, and my thoughts flowed more steadily. Essentially, the only unresolved question in this whole story was: "What to do with Katasakh?"
Despite the fact that the head of the Thieves' Guild refused to answer detailed questions about the role of the head of the tunnellers' team in this story, it was clear to me that Katasakh was involved. Only he knew about the found bracelet, and consequently, no one else could have pointed the thief towards me. On top of that, there was that conversation between the old tunneller and the young sheriff - precisely after it, Patrick asked me to deliver the letter to his brother. It was as if Katasakh wanted to make sure that I would indeed head to Clayville. The only thing the Master of Shadows let slip was that in his youth, Katasakh had run away from home and dabbled in thievery for a while, but later returned to his native village and became a tunneller. Nevertheless, it was evident that the old tunneller had not lost his former connections. Most likely, he was aware that the Thieves' Guild was seeking any artifacts related to the Night Mistress. And as soon as he saw the bracelet we found, he immediately sent a message, or possibly even delivered the news himself. Most likely, it was the latter, as the warrior of Wootz could have reached Bordum even before I had covered two-thirds of the way to Clayville. And if he was really in a hurry and didn't spend time on training like I did, then perhaps even faster.
My "past self" was insisting that I return to Silver Meadow as soon as possible and have a heart-to-heart "talk" with Katasakh. Of course, this "talk" would be away from prying eyes, and the result of such a conversation should have been a fresh grave by the shore of some forest stream. But despite my urge to immediately take off and start exacting "justice" and "punishing the traitor," I understood that spending time on this would not be the best choice. And I suspected that if I didn't rush to Silver Meadow right now, I would likely not find Katasakh there later. The Master of Shadows seemed to me to be a quite reasonable leader who cared about his people, and he would probably try to get the old tunneller out of harm's way. And he couldn't have failed to understand that I would seek revenge on the informant. So, most likely, as soon as the local guild got their hands on the true Altar of Seguna, Katasakh would "disappear," and I wouldn't be able to find him anymore. This situation had arisen precisely because of my mistake; I shouldn't have asked the Master of Shadows about Katasakh. By doing so, I had made it clear that I understood the role of the old tunneller in this story and wasn't going to forgive him. I should have been more restrained, but the words had already been spoken, and the situation couldn't be undone.
Vengefulness fought with rationality in me all the while as I slowly crossed the central square of Bordum in the pouring rain. Climbing the broad steps of the Artifactors' Guild branch, I settled on a compromise: if I managed to find free time, I would pay a visit to Silver Meadow, and if not, I would deal with Katasakh later. In any case, forgetting who sicced the thief on me was out of the question.
In the branch hall, unlike my earlier visit, there were now three desks attending to visitors instead of one, and the familiar to me Itran was already preparing to leave. Apparently, he had still managed to arrange with his superior to leave early today. Upon seeing me, he was genuinely delighted and, pulling Striking Whisper from behind the counter, handed it to me. After exchanging a few formal phrases, I bid farewell to the Artifactors' Guild worker and left the branch.
By this time, the rain had significantly weakened, and I ran down the broad staircase without even bothering to put on my hood. I had barely crossed the square when a boy of about ten years old, who had suddenly darted out of an alley, crashed into me. Of course, I could have avoided this collision, but I chose not to, and a small bundle ended up in my hand. The boy, feigning a frightened squeak and apologizing, quickly disappeared into the nearest gateway.
Leaving the city through the southern gate, I unwrapped the bundle and confirmed that the Master of Shadows keeps his word. The Night Huntress Bracelet, two moonstones, and a cheap purse with a hundred gold coins - all as agreed.
Somewhere halfway to the village of Hamna, the rain completely stopped. Circling the village in a small arc, I arrived at its eastern outskirts directly to a familiar forge. Judging by the thick smoke rising from the low chimney of the workshop, Katashi, as usual, was busy working.
I had barely approached the forge when I was noticed by the familiar lad, the very one who helped the earthling with everyday tasks. As soon as he saw me, he immediately put aside his work and ran up to me:
"Sir Raven!" The youth bowed low. "You are here for Master Kay?" After my affirmative nod, he continued immediately. "The master is very busy. Since yesterday morning, he locked himself in the forge and ordered no one to be allowed in! He worked all night." Judging by the sounds coming from the forge, he was still working even now. "Let me take you to the house where you can wait until the master is free."
Knowing the Japanese, who could work in this mode for another couple of days, I wasn't saitsfied with the suggested option. So, nodding to the young man, I stepped toward the forge and said:
"I am allowed to go in." And before the lad could block my way, I jerked open the door and slipped inside the workshop, shutting the door right in front of his nose.
As soon as I did this, I felt how hot it was inside the forge. The dry air, heated to such an extent that it burned my lungs when I inhaled, instantly dried my throat. It felt as if I had stepped into a heated Finnish sauna.
Katashi, who at that moment was intently watching the furnace fire, holding long blacksmith tongs in his hands, turned his head towards the door and observed me closely for about ten seconds while I threw my things into the corner of the room. When I removed my chainmail and gambeson, remaining in just my shirt and trousers, the Japanese turned back to the furnace and muttered:
"You said you used to work in a forge."
"And hello to you too," I said with a touch of amusement in my voice. "I wouldn't call it work, more like 'fetch this, carry that, get out of the way'."
With a sharp jerk of the tongs, the earthling pulled a strip of metal, heated to a dull glow, out of the coals - two fingers thick and an elbow length - and immediately, placing it on the anvil, took up a medium-sized hammer. He turned the piece and began hammering it, as if he'd forgotten I was standing right next to him. For about three minutes, the Japanese hammered the metal in a furious rhythm, then returned the now significantly elongated iron strip to the furnace. Only after the fire flared up with renewed intensity at his gesture did he turn his head towards me again:
"Can you use a file?"
"I've had to," I said confidently, now accustomed to the scorching air.
"Basket." Katashi nodded at a large woven basket filled with sand and metal plates. "Tools." Another nod towards the wall, where three files of different lengths and teeth densities. "Take the medium one." Waiting until the tool was in my hands, the earthling continued, "Smooth the edges and put the finished pieces in the next basket."
Having finished speaking, Katashi pulled the metal strip from the fire again and began hammering it, no longer paying attention to me. Well, at least he didn't throw me out, and knowing the Japanese's character, I understood that he could have very well done so.
Rolling up my sleeves, I placed the crudely made massive stool closer to the basket with sand, leaned over, and pulled out the first steel plate. Approximately five centimeters long and three wide, it narrowed at one edge, forming a smooth semicircle, and also had a slight concavity. A kind of miniature knight's shield, greatly reduced in size. On the reverse side, a pair of open semicircles protruded from the plate. Picking up the next one, I placed it against the first and confirmed that the steel plates were completely identical in shape and size, as if they came from the same stamping machine, which, of course, the forge did not have. Running my fingertip along the edge of the plate, I felt the irregularities and burrs bending inward. These form precisely after cold metal cutting. And judging from Katashi's instructions, these irregularities and burrs were exactly what I needed to work on. The task wasn't complicated and didn't require special skill, but it took a lot of time, especially considering how many of these plates were in the basket.
The first plate took me no less than a couple of minutes, the second no more than a minute, and with each new plate, the filing time quickly decreased. Nevertheless, I worked diligently, understanding that these plates would eventually be assembled into my future armor. Not even ten minutes passed before I got into a working rhythm: take a plate, hold it with the edge up, make a dozen firm strokes to remove burrs and irregularities with the file, turn the plate and repeat. Then go over it again, but with less pressure, after which the finished plate would fly into another basket, and I would reach for the next one.
All this time, the Japanese remained silent, occasionally giving me an appraising look. Since he said nothing and didn't comment on my work, he was probably satisfied with what he saw.
Leaving the metal strip on the coals, the earthling switched to a much smaller anvil with a slight rounding in the center. He secured it using a primitive clamp, then returned to the forge. When the steel strip was heated, Kay pulled it out of the fire and placed it in the second clamp, pressing the metal to the anvil. Then he took up a strange-looking tool, which I initially mistook for a poker. But it was something like a peculiar hand stamp, shaped like a closed steel frame with a chisel-like edge. Applying this tool to the metal strip, the earthling raised a heavy hammer, aimed, and struck sharply.
So, I guessed right about stamping. This "half-poker" turned out to be something like a stamp, after striking which, a familiar plate of the future armor was separated from the heated metal strip. Using tongs, Kay tore it off the strip, first dipping the obtained plate into a barrel of some oily liquid, waiting for three breaths, and then tossing it into a basket of sand standing next to me.
An hour or so passed in this silent work when I couldn't resist any longer:
"Kay! Don't you think that working alone, you're significantly slowing down the process?" The earthling just shrugged his shoulders irritably, without even turning his head. "Well, think about it. How much time do you spend securing the strip on the anvil? It cools down, and after you knock out one plate, you have to reheat it again."
"As if I don't know," the Japanese growled irritably, fanning the heat in the forge again.
"Kay, I wasn't joking when I said I worked in a forge."
It was true, as was the fact that I wasn't allowed to do serious work. In the Last Cycle, like the rest of the team of the future God of Labor, I spent many days in the forges, helping, though not Kay himself, but his apprentices.
"I know how to handle tongs. If I hold the plate, the second clamp won't be necessary."
The Japanese thought about something for a minute, then turned his head, a hint of a smile flashing on his face:
"You do realize that these are parts of your armor?" he asked. "And if you make a mistake, then..."
"Of course," I interrupted him, nodding sharply.
"Well, let's see what you can do," the earthling grinned.
Having set the file aside, I threw on an old, burnt-in-a-few-places apron made of thick leather and approached the forge. Katashi handed me the tongs and ordered me to take a plate from the basket with it. When I managed that, he gave me a new task: to move the file, then the small hammer. Then he reduced the heat in the forge and, getting to his feet, adjusted my grip on the tongs, dryly explaining how to hold it correctly. After that, I had to move several more items with the tool, and then once more. Only after almost half an hour had passed did the Japanese nod toward the heated plate in the forge.
Our first attempt at working together was partially successful. Before the metal strip cooled down, Katashi managed to punch out two plates. Understanding where I had gone wrong and how to hold the strip straight on the convex anvil, I began to work more confidently. Another heating, and this time the Japanese punched out five plates in a row. In less than an hour, we were working in sync, and our movements started to resemble a well-coordinated mechanism. This coordination led to Kay punching out the entire strip into plates with one heating.
What the Japanese did, from the perspective of basic physics, was something unreal. It is impossible to punch out an entire plate from a strip of metal three and a half millimeters thick with a single blow using a hand stamp and a blacksmith's hand hammer, even if the strip is heated. Nevertheless, Katashi managed it quite well.
As I watched his movements more closely, it felt as though the metal itself was helping the Japanese in his work. Or maybe it was due to his experience and the strength of the Wootz Step? I don't know, but throughout our work together, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was witnessing a small but real miracle.
Two hours later, the pre-prepared metal strips had run out, and the basket with the plates was completely filled.
"Not bad." Taking a swig from a water jug, said Katashi, and with a wave of his hand, he dampened the heat of the coals in the forge. Then he stepped to the door and looked outside: "Oldon!"
"Yes, master!"
"Lunch!"
"It will be ready soon! Everything is already heated." The young man immediately shouted back. "Shall I bring it to the forge, or will you eat at home?"
"Bring it outside." The Japanese waved him off and, closing the door, pulled off his apron.
"Are we done?" I clarified.
Katashi glanced around his forge in puzzlement, then looked at me as if I were an idiot.
"Of course not. But we need to eat, and washing up wouldn't hurt either," he added, sniffing himself and wrinkling his nose.
We left the forge, and Katashi immediately headed to the nearby stream. Not at all embarrassed, he undressed almost completely, leaving only his cloth underwear, and fully immersed himself in the water, washing off sweat and dirt. I followed his example as well.
The water in the stream was quite cool, but after the heat of the forge, it was even better that way, and it took a lot of effort to make myself stop splashing around. When we got out of the water, Oldon had spread a rough blanket directly on the grass, placing a large, steaming pot and two wooden plates in its center.
Filling a plate with thick porridge and duck meat, I swallowed the first spoonful without even chewing, only now realizing how hungry I was. Unlike me, Katashi ate much more calmly, even methodically. And he looked at me, devouring the food like a vacuum cleaner, as if I were a barbarian.
"You weren't in a hurry." Putting the empty plate aside and pouring himself some fruit drink from a clay jug, the Japanese said, looking me in the eyes.
Knowing the blacksmith's character, I didn't say a word while we ate. And now, since he finally broke the silence first, I bowed my head and spread my hands:
"As soon as I could," I explained. "I was busy."
"Working together, we would have finished your armor by now."
Well, yeah, sure! I knew him. If he hadn't worn himself out working alone, he wouldn't have let me work in his forge, and no explanations would have helped. So, I had no illusions about that. However, now there was no falseness in his voice; at this moment, he seemed sincere. To avoid delving deeper into this topic, I decided to change the subject. I untied my purse, took out two moonstones, and placed them in front of the Japanese.
"Hm-m-m," Katashi drawled, glancing at the stones. "I've already solved that problem."
"Take a closer look," I smiled.
The blacksmith picked up the stones, rolled them in his palms, and then his expression changed.
"These are my stones!" he said in surprise, looking up at me.
I had no doubt he would recognize the stolen items; his Affinity with Stone should have told him that.
"But how?!" asked the Japanese.
"Found the thief," I shrugged, as if it was so easy that it required no explanation.
"I se-e-e," Katashi replied, his face turning as if carved from granite. "I'll fetch my hammer, and you'll tell me where this thief lives."
"No need," I waved dismissively.
"It's personal," said the Japanese, standing up with barely concealed anger.
"Sit down," I sighed heavily, waving my hand. "The thief has already been punished."
"And what kind of punishment was that?" Katashi asked in an unnaturally calm voice.
"Most likely, his body is already buried."
"Em-m-m," the Japanese deflated like a punctured balloon and sank onto the grass. "Don't you think that's overkill? Killing for a simple theft?"
"And you were about to fetch your war hammer. Surely just to pat the thief on the back, right?" I asked innocently.
"I would have simply explained to him that kneecaps are a privilege," the earthling replied quietly.
"And no, I didn't kill him; he was taken out by his own - for stealing where he shouldn't have."
"Just when I think I'm getting used to this world…" the Japanese said, shaking his head and taking a large gulp of fruit drink.
"At what stage is the armor making?" I shifted the conversation again, noticing that Katashi had drifted into some rather gloomy thoughts.
"Welding the half-rings onto the plates, then assembly and rune application," the Japanese brightened up.
"Quite fast, considering you worked alone."
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"It would have been even faster," Katashi waved dismissively, "if not for some complications."
"Complications?" I asked.
Getting onto his favorite subject, the Japanese launched into explanations. As I suspected, the main difficulty lay in the avalonium. Melting it with regular steel removed all the unique properties of this metal. Forge welding using Earth techniques also didn't yield the desired result, causing delamination. Alchemical coating was too thin. In the end, Katashi spent almost three days just to combine Avalonium with regular steel without losing the magical metal's properties. For this, he had to resort to magic and his Affinity with Metal.
Honestly, I barely understood half of his explanations, mostly just nodding to his words. The main point was that he succeeded in this task, something I had never doubted for a second.
"So, the armor will be exactly as ordered?" I asked after hearing all the explanations.
"Not exactly. If you remember, I reserved the right to make any changes I deemed necessary." The Japanese shrugged.
"And what changes will those be?" Not that I doubted Katashi's craftsmanship, but knowing how he could get carried away with an idea, I tensed internally.
"Oldon!" the Japanese called to his assistant. "Bring my notes, the ones on the table under the stone."
"Of course, master!" the lad immediately responded and ran to the blacksmith's house.
In silence, sipping fruit drink, we waited for the young man to bring a thick stack of rough sheets. Katashi took them in his hands, then nodded his head to send Oldon away, apparently so he wouldn't eavesdrop.
"Look." Turning one of the sheets with drawings toward me, the Japanese leaned forward and, picking up a stick from the ground, began to explain. "Taking into account your words about the weight of the armor and the strength of the warriors of Wootz, I went around several shops, looked more closely at the local armor, and also talked to other blacksmiths. Then I studied your old gambeson once again and here's what I came to. The basis remained the same as we discussed: Ottoman plate armor. But I decided to approach the matter more comprehensively..."
The sheets changed, the stick in the blacksmith's hands flew over them, occasionally stopping and pointing to various details of the drawings.
My knowledge of Katashi's character from the Last Cycle did not deceive me. Just as I feared as I was leaving him alone, the Japanese, as they say, "went off the deep end" with his favorite craft. And, unconstrained by the traditions that bound him on Earth, he allowed his imagination to run wild. However, to my relief, all his adjustments were surprisingly practical. The basis of the idea that came to the Japanese was, as he declared right away, a comprehensive approach. He did not follow the usual path and combined the gambeson and armor into one whole. As a result, it was supposed to be something remotely resembling a mix of brigandine and mirror armor. But that resemblance was indeed very faint.
"Of course, one could take a simpler path," Katashi enthusiastically told me. "Just three layers. The first is the gambeson, the second is chainmail, and the third is plate armor. However, this kind of multilayering has many drawbacks: layer shifting, excessive weight due to the full chainmail, and the snagging of rings and plates, which would cause misalignment. So, I decided to make it simpler and more practical. I took your gambeson as a basis, reworked it slightly according to your advice, adding stiffening ribs. Once the local craftsmen made it, I ordered a piece of woven chainmail and covered the weak spots with it, such as the armpits and other joints. And I didn't just sew it on, but used steel rings to attach it. This part of the armor is ready, by the way, you can try it on later. As for the protective properties of the overall set, I solved this problem by increasing the thickness of the mirror armor plates from one and a half to three and a half millimeters. And note, because we are forgoing the full chainmail under the main layer of armor in this version, the weight of the set remains practically unchanged from the original triple-layer version. After we finish with the plates and assemble the outer part of the armor, I will also attach it with rings to the reinforced chainmail-inserted gambeson into a single whole. This will also make it much easier to put on the armor. And, speaking of simpler..." He pulled out another sheet. "Look..."
"A hood?" I was surprised.
"Exactly. Like those on the hoodies that were trendy on Earth. You throw it over your head, and you don't need an arming cap, it replaces it. Plus, it also allowed us to cover the neck with a chainmail insert."
"What about a gorget?" I asked.
"Alas, a full gorget won't work here, there's nowhere to attach it securely enough. What you suggested requires attachment to a large plate, like a full cuirass."
I knew this, but I hoped that Katashi would come up with something. Well, he did come up with this hood. It wasn't exactly what I would have preferred, since a gorget protected the neck much better than a chainmail fabric made of thin rings, but it was probably the best that could be done in this case.
"Then, what about the helmet?"
"As you requested, it's a modified morion with a small crest, an enlarged visor, and I added ear protection in the form of a steel mesh. And yes, don't frown, I checked, it doesn't interfere with hearing."
"Accepted."
"Actually, why am I telling you this." Getting up, the Japanese waved his hand. "Let's go, you'll try on what is already ready."
Pulling a rather massive chest out of the house, Katashi took out the updated gambeson and made me try it on. This under-armor was indeed not much different from what I had left him. The same multi-layered padded fabric, reinforced with strips of dense leather, resembling a creepy mix of biker gear and hockey equipment. But besides this, which I was already used to, about a sixth of the gambeson was covered with woven chainmail.
When I donned it, Katashi circled around me and tightened the securing straps to fit, explaining each of his actions. After that, he loosened the straps and demanded that I remove the gambeson. And then he made me put it on again and tighten all the fastenings myself. By the third time, I was able to do this almost without thinking. And this was also understandable, because I wore something similar for more than a month in the Last Cycle. Only with the hood, which turned out to be a rather unusual mix of a multi-layered fabric coif and chainmail neck protection, did I have some small difficulties that I had to get used to.
The morion, however, turned out exactly as I had ordered. Yes, it felt quite heavy at first, straining the neck vertebrae, but this helmet reliably protected my head from any direct blow from above. Also, thanks to the extended "visor," all I needed to do was tilt my head slightly, and my face was shielded from hypothetical arrows. Though, with such a tilt, due to the same visor, I lost sight of what was ahead, but that wasn't too worrisome since I didn't intend to walk around like that all the time. I would see the moment the arrow was fired, tilt my head, wait for the arrow to hit the helmet's visor, and then raise my head again.
"Convenient," I commented, doing another somersault and walking ten meters on my hands to test it out.
"But the avalonium you left behind wasn't enough for the morion. The helmet is made of good steel," explained Katashi.
"I understand." An important detail to remember.
"The chainmail is wootz; I couldn't figure out how to coat the small rings with a thin layer of avalonium. This, by the way, is one of the reasons why I decided to thicken the plates of the outer armor."
"And that makes sense. It's surprising how you managed to do all this in such a short time."
"I didn't do most of it myself; I was busy with the main layer and welding the avalonium with regular steel," the Japanese shrugged. "The gambeson was made by Master Tromin from Bordum, based on the designs I provided and having listened to my explanations. I also ordered the woven chainmail piece from a blacksmith with a good reputation. My job was only to supervise the work and make final adjustments. By the way, I ordered the same gambeson for myself as yours." He circled around me. "It turned out to be a very successful model." This praise from the future god of Labor meant a lot. "And the helmet is not as bad as I initially thought. I won't make one for myself, preferring a more closed variant. But apparently, the conquistadors were not fools when they chose this form. Moreover, making it is quite simple, a fairly technological model from a production standpoint."
"So, the final stage of the work remains?" I clarified.
"Pre-final," the Japanese corrected me. "The final stage will be the complete assembly."
"Oldon said you haven't slept for more than a day."
"I'll finish the work and rest," Katashi waved off. "Come on, the file is waiting for you," the earthling smirked, clearly pleased that he had offloaded this monotonous work onto me.
After I took off the gambeson and helmet, the Japanese put them back in the chest and carried it into the house. Then we returned to the forge. I sat on the familiar stool and set to work with the file, while the earthling started welding the loops onto the plates. As far as I understood, steel wire would later be passed through these half-rings, fastening the plates into a single whole. After that, they would be bent, securely fixing the plates on a flexible and strong frame. To cut through or tear a plate from such a fastening, it would need to be completely severed. Which, considering their thickness and the fact that they would be laid slightly overlapping, seemed almost impossible. So we worked until evening. Then we washed in the stream again and had dinner.
"Are you tired?" Katashi asked me, licking the spoon and setting it aside.
"The file isn't that heavy," I smiled. "The work itself, naturally, is tedious, but I'm almost done with it."
"Then the question is, who among us will inscribe the Runes of Strengthening?"
In any other situation, I would have volunteered for this task. But considering that Katashi had five Stars of Talent in Runes, and he was also a Shard, I replied:
"In this matter, I prefer to trust you."
"Alright," the Japanese nodded. "Then you'll handle the polishing as well."
A task even more tedious than working with a file, but I wasn't about to shirk it. Seeing my nod, the Japanese nodded in satisfaction. Leaving the dirty dishes to Oldon, we returned to the forge, where we each got back to our work.
In about an hour, I finished filing the remaining armor pieces. During this time, Katashi managed to inscribe Runes on the inner sides of almost fifty plates. The way he did it would have astounded any earthly blacksmith. The Japanese "simply" used a steel, sharpened stick, akin to a long awl, to draw on the steel. The most astonishing thing was that the metal yielded to his seemingly effortless movements, and the Rune obediently appeared on the surface of the plates.
Taking a few plates that Katashi had already worked on, I noticed that each of the Runes he inscribed, though slightly, did differ from the others. Each of the Signs was unique in its own way; evidently, the earthling inscribed them, intuitively understanding the structure of each plate. If I had taken on this task, the Runes I inscribed would have been as similar to each other as twins. This was the difference between three Stars of Talent and five. Katashi simply saw how to do it correctly and did it. And his Affinity with Metal helped him take into account the structure of each plate of the future armor when inscribing the Rune.
In the Last Cycle, I had never seen Kay at work, or rather I had, but not so closely, and now I was genuinely impressed by the young blacksmith's skill. If I had any doubts that he would outshine all the local masters in just a few months, they were now dispelled, like morning mist under the gust of a hurricane.
Katashi finished his part of the work significantly earlier than I did. The earthling completed the Runes, gathered the finished plates, and reignited the forge:
"Your help is not needed here," he explained, leaving me to deal with the most tedious part of the work.
For the next hour, Kaytashi connected the plates with thick steel wire. A couple of times, he didn't like the result and disassembled the overlapping plates, connecting them again. Moreover, he bent the arcs of the half-rings by hand, without even touching the blacksmith's hammer. He simply took the steel plate in his hands, threaded the wire through, and bent the half-rings. Only after assembling a whole row did he pick up the hammer. According to his explanations, this was something akin to magical welding. I had no choice but to take his word for it. Especially since I knew for sure that if Katashi undertook to do something, he did it well. The most surprising thing was that he managed this work faster than I did with the polishing.
The monotonous work, along with observing the actions of a true master, made the time fly by unnoticed. Late evening turned into night, and when the first rays of the morning sun appeared on the horizon, the assembly of the plate part of the armor was complete. More precisely, the plate skirt was still unassembled, but Kaytashi set this part of the work aside.
"It needs to be tried on. No, not like that, on the gambeson!" the Japanese frowned.
He was clearly displeased with something. Something was bothering him, and he didn't like it. Only after I put on the gambeson and the plate armor settled on my shoulders, the earthling commanded.
"Raise your arms. Higher. Like this." He touched my armpits. "Does it pull here?"
"Yes."
"I miscalculated the width of your shoulders." Katashi grimaced as if mentally scolding himself with the harshest words.
"Is it something critical?" I inquired.
"We need to change the shape of the pauldrons." His fingers ran over the indicated piece of armor. "Lengthen the main part a bit and add another plate, or it will jut out at the bicep area. Take it off, I'll work on it."
Obeying the Japanese's instructions, I watched as he removed the pauldrons and, tossing some charcoal into the forge, heated it up.
"You'll have to remember that the outermost plate on the pauldrons will be without avalonium."
"It's just two centimeters," I waved off.
"Nevertheless, I warned you, and you heard me."
"As you already understood, the presence of avalonium doesn't affect physical strength." Waiting for his nod, I continued. "This metal, which is essentially steel mined from ore near natural Spirit sources, only helps in protection against magic, not against someone else's sword or axe."
"The outermost plate on each pauldron and your helmet are regular steel," Katashi stubbornly repeated, ignoring my words.
Arguing with him when he spoke in that tone was useless, so I just nodded. I had finished my work, and the Japanese hadn't assigned me any new tasks, so I simply sat on a stool and began to inspect the forge more attentively.
From what I could discern, before meeting me, Katashi was mainly engaged in making familiar tools for himself, as well as experimenting with weaving chainmail fabric. No, there were other preparations too, but they rather resembled projects abandoned halfway. However, on a narrow windowsill, I noticed the characteristic shine of a steel strip polished to a mirror finish. Rising from the stool, I approached the windowsill and pushed aside the rags and leather scraps.
Before me lay a blade, half-covered in coal dust. Not a sword, but precisely a blade, without a handle and guard. Slightly curved, with a one-and-a-half edge sharpening. It reminded me somewhat of the Japanese short tanto swords, no longer than a forearm. And if it weren't for the one-and-a-half edge sharpening running along the opposite side of the main blade for a third of its length, I would have taken this blank precisely for a tanto. There was nothing special about this blade. It wasn't a work of art or particularly well-made. No, just an ordinary blade, distinguished from hundreds of similar ones only by its shape and sharpening, unusual for Ain. You could even say it was somewhat roughly made. Not poorly, but it felt as if it was forged not with a hammer, but with a stone, and only through careful polishing were the characteristic dents removed. This blade caught my attention for only one reason - since there was no other weapon in the forge. And if there had been, I probably wouldn't have paid any attention to this sword blank.
"I see you have nothing better to do!" Katashi remarked, noticing how I was examining the blade. "Come here and take the tongs, you'll be helping."
My assistance involved using tongs to retrieve the red-hot part of the pauldron and then holding it on the anvil at the angle the Japanese indicated. We finished the first part fairly quickly but had a small mishap with the second. Apparently, I squeezed the tongs too hard, and the pauldron slipped from the grip like a piece of ice from cold hands. I don't know what came over me, but my body, acting automatically, leaned over, and I caught the pauldron with my hand before it hit the floor.
I caught it. With my bare hand. A piece of metal heated to a red glow.
Katashi reacted faster. Before the hot steel touched my fingers, he tried to push me aside, but he was too late; my fingers closed around it.
A strange wave from his push passed through my body, hit the Core, and rolled toward my hands.
"You didn't say you had Affinity with Metal," Katashi said, watching as I held the red-hot steel in my hand.
My fingers... I felt the heat that should have melted my skin and flesh to the bone, but my fingers were intact...
Carefully, like a primed grenade, I placed the red-hot pauldron on the anvil and only then exhaled loudly.
"I didn't have this Affinity," I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "Until this moment, I didn't."
"Idiot," the Japanese muttered, shaking his head. "You could have lost your fingers!"
"Yeah... I understand..." And I really did understand.
"Consider yourself incredibly lucky," Katashi said, taking the pauldron with tongs and placing it in the furnace. "At the moment of initiating Affinity with Metal, I also became insensitive to high temperatures for a few minutes. Just don't make a habit of grabbing hot things with your hands!" the Japanese smirked. "It doesn't work that way. Sit down for now; I'll finish this myself."
Obeying his words like a sleepwalker, I reached the stool and collapsed onto it like a sack of potatoes. When the ability to think returned, and I realized my palm was intact and all my fingers were in place, I "looked" at my Core.
Wow! Affinity with Metal! I really had it now! And that meant those rumors that circulated in the Last Cycle - about those who helped Katashi with his work gaining the Affinity - weren't just rumors. Of course, I had hoped for something like this when I was so eager to assist him in the forge. But it was one thing to hope based on unverified stories, and quite another to actually gain the Affinity!
But the way I obtained it was no good at all. What if it hadn't worked? I would have had to spend no less than a month healing my hand! Damn instincts left over from Earth! If something fell off the table, you absolutely had to catch it. Katashi was right to call me an idiot; that was exactly what I was.