Once Isao finished his meal we left the pub. Our conversation had started attracting more attention than any of us wanted, so we unanimously decided it was time to shift locations.

"Oh by the way," Isao started, "I'll be hosting a historical story session at the Octonia Theatre in about two weeks' time. You're both welcome to join, along with anybody else you'd like to bring of course."

"Do you lie to everybody about not having any stories to share?" I grumble.

"Starry eyed teens who want stories of adventure don't react very positively when given ancient myths or legends. Trust me, I've tried. It doesn't satisfy." He says, looking somewhat dejected.

"I thought you were just passing through?"

"I am. That doesn't mean I don't like to stop and relax on the way to my destination. Ruins aren't going anywhere."

"How have I not heard rumors of you being in the city if you have arrangements with an official establishment, especially one that should be advertising for a performance?" Bodelee asks.

"I usually call myself a wandering historian, as it causes less of a stir and is more believable. It's also a much more accurate description than 'sword god.'"

"Oh yeah, what were you doing Bodelee? I didn't expect to see you in there," I ask.

"Oh, well you should know after you took off Albatos threw quite a fit. Told us all to go out searchin' and whatnot."

"Uh-huh. And why exactly did you think I would be in a pub marketed toward blacksmiths?"

"Well, y'know…"

"Yeah?"

"I was slackin' off," He says sheepishly.

"Well, I'm fine keeping quiet so long as I'm left out of it. I'll return on my own, so there's no point looking for me anymore, is there?"

"No can do," Bodelee says more sternly than I expect, "You should know it's pure idiocy to wander around on your own. At least have somebody accompany you while you're out."

I say nothing but scowl internally. The point of gathering information is to find a hidden card. If I'm shackled to somebody then anything I learn might as well be public information for all the good it'll do me. Luckily I hadn't seen anybody on my way out of the administrative district, so it was likely nobody knew about my secret way out yet.

"Fine, fine. I won't wander off alone," Even after all this time lies still come as naturally to me as breathing, "So what's the plan now then?"

"I was thinking, if it's alright that is, that we could maybe, y'know, go and get started at the forge… right now?" He bashfully eyes Isao and phrases his answer more like a desperate question.

Isao laughs, "That's fine, I hadn't any plans for the rest of the day anyway."

"You know," I say, thinking aloud, "If you wanted we could probably swing you a room at Andora's place. If you're planning on sticking around for two or more weeks then it would ease your finances to have somewhere to stay other than an inn."

"Oh, no I couldn't possibly put someone out…"

"You won't be." Bodelee and I say in synch.

"Uh, okay then. So who's Andora?"

***

After checking in with Albatos and getting an earful we head to the royal smithy. We also put in a request with Vanderburst to communicate Isao's potential temporary residency to Andora. The poor tink nearly fainted when we told him Isao was, in fact, the real deal. It seemed like Morvin wasn't back yet so I decide to tag along with the pair of smiths since I've got nothing better to do.

I suppose the easiest way to describe the royal smithy would be… filthy. The building itself is more like a compound, with several different outdoor forges linked together in a single area. At present, only one of them is lit with a smith working the bellows.

We first head to a counter with a dwarf lazily reading a book. The sign hanging off the wall above the counter reads 'Commissary.'

As we approach the dwarf behind the counter looks up from his book. Seeing us, he swings his legs off the warped wooden surface of the desk and stuffs his book off to the side, seeming unconcerned we had seen him slacking off in his work.

Bodelee pulls out a missive and hands it to the dwarf, who looks it over briefly before saying, "So you're the one lookin' to borrow our stuff, eh? Well, whatever, so long as you don't break anything. When you need materials you can come here for them, though seeing as how you ain't proper Voset smiths you'll 'ave to pay for 'em."

Seeing both Isao and Bodelee nod the dwarf continues, "You can use forge 3. This thing only mentions you needing one forge, so you'll have to share."

"What about all the other forges?" I ask, thinking of the at least five other empty workshops I'd seen.

The dwarf gives me a scowl, "We don't much like giving out our space as it is, so the less of a mess you lot make, the better. Now, can I get you gentlemen anything to get started?"

Bodelee and Isao have a small discussion regarding materials that goes completely over my head. Once they decide on a selection we follow the gruff quartermaster's instructions to forge 3.

Despite the quartermaster's complaints of us messing up their workspace, I can't help but think to myself there's not much more of a mess we could make if we tried. Various hammers and tools lay strewn about, seemingly at random over different workstations and anvils. I'm clueless to the functions of almost everything here, the only things I recognize are the anvil, the bellows, and the forge itself.

"Alright, let's get started here," Isao says eagerly.

With a splash of magic the forge was lit, and I briefly wonder what the point of the bellows even is when you could maintain that flame magically. Maybe there's an art to it I don't understand.

"What're we doin' first?" Bodelee asks as he stretches out his shoulder, looking over the materials they had gotten.

"Start basic, I'd say. It's been a while for me, so simple straight sword maybe?"

With a nod Bodelee selects two ingots with tongs and shoves them into the forge unceremoniously.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

After that, the smithing process becomes something of a silent affair broken only by the occasional comment and the clamor of hammer blows. The two craftsmen seem to fall into a trance, where nothing exists outside of their workmanship.

From the little I had watched of Bodelee's work throughout our three month journey, I'm able to tell he's currently putting much more effort into the pieces before him than any of the projects he worked on before.

He also puts his domain into effect, within a very small radius so as to not bother anybody around us. I had seen him use his projection, Might of the Forge, in the battle against the Machinus but hadn't really understood it at the time. Evidently, it works to make the material he's targeting hotter and more malleable so long as he's wielding a hammer and has a clear picture of what he wants to mold it into. The projection gets a whistle of approval from Isao, who seems almost jealous.

Even with a domain effect and more focus than I thought him capable of, Bodelee still gets outclassed by Isao.

I'm not sure how he does it, but Isao seems to beat the metal into shape with barely a thought. With hardly any effort he molds metal and shapes steel.

In just under an hour Isao presents an unadorned straight sword, long and thin. In all honesty it looks extraordinarily bland to me, but Bodelee looks at it the way a salaryman might drool over a sports car.

In one last touch Isao engraves the initials IR on the flat of the blade just above the pommel. With a laugh at Bodelee's expression, Isao says, "I think I'll leave the one with you, since you seem to like it so much."

Bodelee waves his hands before him, "No no, you don' have ta do that, really!"

"It's fine, I don't sell the first of a batch, so I'd much rather one of you keep it as a memento." With a shrug he adds, "Plus you can sell it if you're ever strapped for coin."

"Well I… I don't…" Bodelee tries to muster a response but fails.

"It's not good to reject generosity, Bodelee," I say as a little prod.

"I… Fine." Taking the blade, Bodelee looks it over for a minute before turning to me, "I think you should take it then, Stein. I use a hammer so it's of no real use to me."

"Hmmm," I take the blade and look it over. Certainly, it seems well made, but it has a bit more weight behind it than I'd like, "I'll keep it as a backup then. Besides, I've already got the one you made for me so it's not like I'm in desperate need of a new one."

"Wha! Don't compare that lump I threw together to a work of art!"

"It's served me well and that's all it needs to do. I'd rather have something familiar than an art piece."

"Stein is right, the more familiar you are with something the better it'll serve you. Even more so if that thing was made by someone close. The blade feels that attachment, and it'll reciprocate the weight of those feelings," Isao says while digging through the pile of materials. Despite his nonchalance, his voice carries a solemn weight to it.

"You say that like the blade has a soul," I say skeptically.

"In a sense it does. It's a faint thing, but it's there. You could go further than that and say everything has a soul, but things made and loved develop more. Cherish it, and I can almost guarantee it will not fail you."

I look to Bodelee, trying to gauge how he feels about the sentiment but he simply shrugs. It seems like even the fellow blacksmith doesn't get the spiritualistic ideology.

The more time I spend with Isao the more I get the feeling he sees the world on a higher plane of existence than we do. It goes beyond his ability to cut something with the flick of a finger, it's like he's connected to something incorporeal, and he understands everything he encounters on a fundamental level.

"On a side note, can I get a sheath for this? I'd be a bit awkward to carry bare," I say, putting my inner thoughts aside.

***

A couple hours later I was back at the manor with Isao and Bodelee in tow. Their smithing session had been fascinating to watch, but I wasn't planning on doing it again due to the sweltering heat that built up in the workshop. They both seemed acclimated to the uncomfortable temperature, but it was a hellish environment to me. The only reason I hadn't left earlier was Bodelee's insistence that I not travel around alone.

As we step through the gates I spot Morvin hanging around the garden we had spoken beside before. Our eyes lock for a moment before we break off the brief contact.

Vanderburst meets us in the foyer and leads us to Andora's private office. To his surprise, she isn't there. He bustles off to find her while we wait. They manage to get into yet another detailed discussion on smithing techniques that goes over my head in the two minutes we spend waiting.

When Andora does arrive we follow her into the office.

"I've been told that you'd like to join my sister and her company in their temporary residence, sir Isao."

With an elegant bow Isao says, "Well met, Duchess. While not my original intent, I could not simply decline the prospect of accompanying them in their luxury accommodations. If my presence is, in fact, unwelcome I will remove myself without hesitation."

"There's no need for that," Andora's expression is a mix of half a smile and half irritation. It seems she'd grown used to our brash antics and wasn't prepared to be faced with formalities, "It would be an honor to have such a renowned guest. I do hope you're not offended that I must ask for identification, as yours is a person often imitated."

"Of course," He quickly produces an old worn guild ID from inside his bag and presents it to Andora.

After a brief examination Andora returns it, "Very well, speak to Vanderburst when you wish to retire to your room and he will guide you."

With no further business, we exit the office. Vanderburst guides Isao to a guest room and Bodelee tags along, seeking to continue their earlier conversation. I split off without saying anything.

"Took you long enough," Morvin says from the garden bench.

"Met someone a bit interesting. Learn anything?" Sidestepping the comment I cut right to the chase.

"Turns out it was seven ships that went down around that time. They didn't have all the details on hand, so I'll have to wait a bit for crew logs. I hadn't realized it would cost half a damn fortune for their services."

"Sorry about that. How much was it? I'll reimburse you."

"Nah, forget it. Not like I've got much to do with money anyway."

An awkward silence falls over us as we stare into the beautifully maintained garden.

"Sorry for wasting your time with this," I say, looking for anything to break the silence.

"Don't be, you're doing me a favor."

That perks my interest, "How so?"

"It feels good, knowing I can do something meaningful before I go. To do something I can… leave behind, I guess. I didn't have anything to do or strive for before this, which left this awful feeling of emptiness. It paired well with the loneliness, in the worst way."

"Something to leave behind, huh?"

"Something to let the world remember I existed, that I wasn't just a blank face in the crowd. There's not much left to want besides that in the face of death."

***

After Isao had been shown his room I find Vanderburst and have him show me to the study room.

The room seems to have at one time been a bedroom that was converted to a study. A single bookshelf adorns the wall and a pair of desks and chairs are the only other furniture in the room. One of the desks sits in a corner while the other takes the space next to the window.

The window desk is covered in papers and books, so I decide to claim the corner desk. Before Vanderburst leaves I ask if he'll be able to look for anything related to the history of the western nations or current politics. After a brief affirmation, he leaves me to my devices.

Browsing the shelf leads me to decide there isn't really that much useful to me here. Almost all of it is related to Wald and the surrounding region. Happening upon a book on Maulian culture I decide it's likely as close as I'll get today.

Before moving over to the corner desk I can't help but be tempted to take a peek at the documents littering the window desk.

Where did my self-restraint go?

Most of the papers seem to be various financial reports, but there's one sitting front and center that's especially interesting. It's a small slip with the words;

'Unrest rising. Increase in lower level incidents. Sealed Prison security at risk. Need more manpower.'

Hurried footsteps are the only warning I get before the door to the study opens. I look up from my open book in the seat of the corner desk, pretending to be surprised at the intrusion.

Andora stands in the doorway, casting a neutral expression my way. With a forced smile she says, "It seems I'll have to stop leaving things so messy. I hope you find the materials here useful."

She moves over to her desk and starts tidying up, and I don't miss the subtle motion of a small crumpled note being slipped into her pocket.

A shadow brigade and a sealed prison, huh? This city has too many secrets for my liking.