We’ll get back to Aelder, because that little scamp learned a little too much from his trickster parent Ignitious to only be contained to a single legend and focus first on what happened to us dwarves after hearing that story.
Oskar’s narrative made the historians of the time scramble to review the details of our oldest recorded tablets. For you see, us dwarves have a legend about a figure that appeared out of nowhere right after Ragnarök and helped us in our greatest time of need.
The tale roughly translates to the following in common, though do keep in mind that dwarvish still has a limited vocabulary, even all these years after contact was made with the elves then humans, due to originally being carved in stone.
The world has ended, the day of Ragnarök has come.
The sky shattered, the fields burned, the land is pocked with scars.
Only a small number of us are left. We’ve hidden ourselves in caves, but we won’t last long, our warriors are dead by hands of monsters, our crafters are maimed, the elderly have stopped eating, the children are frightened.
We’ve managed to create a crude door to block the storms, they rage almost constantly… was it true? Has Torbolt fallen?
Many days have passed, our numbers are dwindling… is this how it truly ends? First with a loud proclamation that killed Adamanrion, then a pathetic whimper?
Another storm came, the noise permeated into the caves, we did our best to ignore it, but a new sound drove us into fear.
A deep thumping could be heard, the door rattled, frightening the children. We thought it was a monster, until a booming voice reverberated our bones.
“I come seeking refuge from the storm. Is this what constitutes dwarven hospitality?”
Another survivor? We cautiously opened the door for the stranger, who stepped in to shake off the rain.
They were massive, a full head higher than the tallest of us, but still with the proportions of the strongest blacksmith. They were covered in heavy green plate-mail, their head had a strange helmet that fully covered their face, leaving only a “T” shaped opening that was shrouded with blackened glass.
They had multiple packs on their back and waist, a hammer and hand-axe were slung from their belt, but what was most shocking was the living tree branches resting on their back.
The vibrant green of life hypnotized us as the stranger finished drying themselves. They however weren’t satisfied with our stares, “You can call me Warden. Now, are you going to give me a hot meal? Or are you just going to stand there gawking?”
Our fear was remembered, and no one wanted to further anger the stranger. They had survived outside the caves since Ragnarök? How? Were they that strong that monsters fled at the sight?
We pulled together what we could for food, it was a paltry offering, but given the stranger’s attitude, nothing would have been worse.
Warden began to eat the meal of gathered mushrooms and roots, taking a piece, and sliding it up the gap underneath their helmet. They stopped after the first bite.
“This tastes terrible. Where is your kitchen?”
Our fear persisted, but we led the figure to where we stored our food.
“This is inadequate… I will prepare this evening’s meal.”
Warden then made us leave the space, only calling us back once an hour had passed.
What happened during our absence, we don’t know, only that a miracle had occurred…
Glowing moss flooded the room with light, the dirt floor was replaced with wooden boards, a roaring fire bathed the room with warmth, the kitchen was replaced with a massive countertop, roots delivered fresh water into basins, and long tables with benches were present, allowing everyone to take a seat.
That oddly wasn’t the miracle, that distinction belonged to what filled the tables… a feast.
The constant days of hunger made us temporarily mad as we rushed to gorge ourselves, barely able to hear the booming laughter coming from Warden. We ate and ate, but the table never emptied. Many began to cry from now bloated stomachs, but Warden relieved us of our pains by handing us crystal mugs of golden liquid, telling us to drink, and continue eating to our heart’s content.
Many of us began to break down into tears, myself included, and we tried to thank the stranger, but Warden only grew angry.
“You insult me now? Words alone cannot thank someone; I expect recompense for my services.”
We were shaken by Warden’s words but managed to ask how to repay the miracle worker.
“I alone cannot feed your people, there are too many of you scattered throughout the caves of this coast. You will feed them and teach them how to do the same for themselves.”
Confusion filled our heads. How were we supposed to do that?
Warden laughed, “You're holding your answer,” we looked at the crystal mugs in our hands, “those are a gift from Adamanrion, his flesh was torn and his bones were broken, but he can still fuse Earth and Fire together to create. Do great works in his name, and he will hear your prayers again.”
Warden would then go on to teach us dwarves how to construct houses of glass that could nourish the many strange plants that Warden brought, while still providing protection from the violent storms. They stayed for a great many nights, providing aid to our wounded and sick, and the tables never emptied of food.
When the story was translated to Oskar (Likely poorly at the time due to first needing to be translated into elvish for Eldar), he merely shrugged his shoulders and stated that Apheros never told him that tale, but that it sounded like something that he would do.
It wasn’t until many years after Oskar died that a hidden cache of writings was discovered, the reason why becoming apparent after they were examined.
According to them, the night before Warden left, they asked for 12 “female” dwarves to join them in their chambers for a night of carnal passion.
Now for you non-dwarves, the mention of sex wasn’t the reason for the records being hidden. What was scandalous was the specification of females in their request. Us dwarves aren’t really concerned with what goes on underneath a person’s neck when it comes to mating season (although I’ll admit that many of us nowadays have picked up on human’s appreciation for a firm rump), and it’s considered rude to ask what gender someone is.
Six bearded and six beardless dwarves entered the darkened chambers, none of them able to get a proper look at their savior, but accounts from them stated that the night was quite enjoyable.
32 days went by, and a bearded dwarf that spent the night with Warden went into labor. This repeated every 32 days, cycling back to the first dwarf after the remaining 11 gave birth. The cycle ended on the 12th, the reliability creating a new calendar for us dwarves, and landmarked an explosion in our population.
I’ve asked many human theologians about this story, and while there has been no confirmation that Warden was secretly Apheros, a resounding “yes, that is definitely something Apheros would do” was heard from each.
---
Arc
Woodsday, the 22nd of Fifthmonth
I noticed Travis begin to stir from his sleep. It was still early, but the poor teen still didn’t have much stamina for socializing, so he ended up collapsing into bed shortly after finishing his time at the spell range.
“What time is it?”
“A little before six, do you want me to get the light?”
“Sure.” Travis practically leapt out of bed, giving his body a thorough stretch, before turning around to pull the sheets from his bed. “Is it weird that I feel bad about missing out on morning drill?”
“Not really, the army training is still new and exciting for you, even if it does leave you sore and exhausted. Plus, I noticed that no one took Voltsday off, even though I’m positive there’s at least a few worshipers of Torbolt in your group.”
Travis let out a small chuckle while he began to change, “Can’t properly worship a god of war and military tactics if you skip out on an opportunity to learn about the subjects.”
“Speaking of gods, would it be alright with you if I didn’t come to church?”
He stopped what he was doing and turned to me, “Umm, sure… can I ask why?”
Good question, one that I should have saw coming. Ugh, I hate keeping secrets from Travis, but a church is a likely place for a bridge between the physical and spiritual planes to be created, and I have a feeling how that encounter with a god will go.
Why weren’t your memories sealed?
I don’t know I was trapped here.
Hmm, a likely story… if another god placed you here intentionally, they would have told you why. What I think happened, is that you tried to cheat the system and screwed up. Perhaps you’ll learn your lesson after spending a few years anchored to that sword as it floats towards a black hole. Don’t worry, after a billion or so years, your anchor will finally be destroyed, and you’ll be released.
Yeah, let’s not do that… maybe I’ll get lucky, and the local God will be able to help me.
“Sorry, I’d rather not…” I watch Travis’ face sadden, ugh, I can almost feel the physical discomfort, “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I could get into a lot of trouble.”
Travis slumped his shoulders, but finished dressing, clipped me to his belt, then carried his sheets to the laundry chute. He grabbed a fresh set of sheets from the nearby closet, then returned to make his bed. He picked up the book he’d been reading but paused before opening it.
He then gave my pommel a nice rub, “Alright, I won’t press the issue, but listen… you’re my best friend, and literally by my side now, just remember that I’m by your side also.”
Aww, I appreciate the sentiment, but you're not going to be able to stop a god from destroying the ant hill just to pluck me out of the nest.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
---
Travis
Well, that conversation all but confirmed one of my suspicions about Arc’s origin. Someone trapped him in a sword, and that someone must have been a god. But which one?
Adamanrion seems a likely suspect. Arc is a Northman-style sword, and that blacksmith mentioned that the bones of one’s ancestors could be used in the forging process.
Then again, he was found in an Aelder tree, and even he admitted that he didn’t know how he got there. Maybe Apheros trapped him?
Or he just doesn’t know who and wants to play it safe. I know I personally wouldn’t want to anger The Hooded One.
Maybe I can figure something out at church…
---
Jethro and I stood in front of the knight with the clipboard to report that we’d be attending church.
“Jethro Bradshaw… check, Travis… Just Travis right?”
I nodded my head, confused as to why he had to ask.
“I don’t see you listed.”
Jethro started to snicker, “Is there a Travis Farmboy?”
I groaned as the knight checked over the list, then visibly checked me off with a giant grin, “Ah, never mind, I found you.”
“I’ll add ‘stopping by administration to fix that’ to the quest log.”
Jethro patted me on the shoulder, “C’mon, let’s get moving. I want to change before we head out.”
I nodded my head, then went back to my own room to change, putting on a set of regular clothes from my village and the boots I made with Holly’s help.
Jethro greeted me downstairs, wearing a much fancier outfit, though I noticed his smile looked strained.
“Is something wrong?”
“Umm, no. Nothing’s wrong… I just… thought you’d wear your uniform.”
I narrowed my eyes at Jethro, I never was good at discerning lies, but something was telling me that he wasn’t being fully honest with me.
He must have noticed my skepticism, because he rushed us towards the stables. 5751054 and Jethro’s horse greeted us outside, both already saddled, and we were headed off towards the church.
---
I gave 5751054 a friendly pat while we drew near the ring of the city with the churches, “How’s it been bud? I feel like it’s been weeks since I last saw you. Is the logistics corps treating you okay?”
A friendly whinny came from my steed, and he turned his head to press his nose to one of the pouches on his saddle. Feeling curious, I opened it and found a small logbook inside.
“Oh nice, it’s a log of who’s been riding you, and what tasks the logistics corps has been giving you to cover your stabling costs.” I searched through the logbook and noticed in the front that there was a spot to give notes or list trusted people that could request 5751054.
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Hmm, “Hey, would it be alright with you if I added a few of my friends to your trusted rider list?”
5751054 twitched his ears around but didn’t make any grand reactions.
“Is that a ‘I don’t care?’”
My stallion nodded his head.
“Ok, thank you.”
I filled in the names of my friends, then returned the logbook before we were about to pass through a wall of people holding signs.
Jethro looked at the crowd nervously, “Umm, maybe we should turn around?”
We stopped our horses, and I waved to one of the protesters passing out sheets of paper, “Excuse me. What’s going on?”
An elderly man walked up with a smiling face, but slowed after he glanced at Jethro, “Just a peaceful protest over the Queen’s proposed new law.” He handed me a pair of papers, “Us nationalists see her posting mages and knights to every fortress as nothing more than a desperate power grab, intended to delegitimize the Jarls now that the public is in support of establishing a parliament. Don’t worry, your master has nothing to fear from us, we’re well aware that many nobles support our cause as well.”
I turned to Jethro, whose face was beet red, and I grinned at the now forming joke in my head, “Don’t worry Young Master Bradshaw, I’ll ensure no harm comes to you.”
Jethro fumed internally, and I managed to hold in my laugh long enough to pass the crowd of protesters.
---
As expected, the church was massive, the one from my village could have fit inside just the entryway. It was also much more beautiful. Vines crept up trellises that ran along the columns and walls, trees and shrubs lined the pathway to the inside, and a countless number of planter boxes and pots filled with flowers and other greenery that provided a full rainbow of colors.
I know Father Viburnum did his best, I even helped him out on occasion, but one priest couldn’t match what the small army of priests and acolytes had accomplished here.
Jethro and I let our horses wander off to join the others, and started making our way up the walkway, but Jethro froze when someone began to wave at him.
A smiling Lakelander girl with wavy chestnut hair approached us, “Jethro, there you are. C’mon, family is already inside, we saved you a seat.” She took notice of me, and her smile fell, “And who are you?”
Jethro slid a hand through his matching hair, and chuckled nervously, “Umm, this is Travis, he’s a classmate of mine…”
The girl gave me another once over, then turned back to Jethro with a cold stare, “We only saved a single seat for you.”
Oh, I think I get what’s happening now.
I pat Jethro on the shoulder, “Go join your family, I’ll see you back at school.”
Jethro tried to protest, but his lack of arming jacket allowed me to dig into his trapezoid easier, preventing him from resisting my dad’s secret animal calming technique. We parted ways, and I whispered to Arc to add possibly buying some nicer clothes to the quest log, but when I reached to give his pommel a pat, I foolishly realized that it was just me.
Huh, yesterday I was stressing about him always watching me, but the second we part, I immediately start missing him. Figures.
I worked my way past the crowds leaving the previous service and entered in with the other non-nobles. The inside was just, if not more, as grand as the outside, and I followed the lines further in, hoping that they were heading towards the main service.
The people apparently knew where to go because I soon found myself in a grand hall. It had a glass roof supported by numerous pillars, was filled with so many plants that my nose felt assaulted by the fragrant smells, and numerous benches being quickly filled. I took notice of how people on one side were dressed finer than the other and found an open spot on the poor people’s side.
I continued looking, seeing that the walls all had archways that led to a different part of the church, and after investigating the symbols above them, determined that they must lead to shrines for the individual tenets of Apheros.
The familiar service began, and it helped me relax my mind; it had been way too long since I last went to church. It also felt nice to sing. I hadn’t found time to practice outside of the day I prepared for my acceptance party, though part of that was because it felt strange to not have Dad provide the bass to my tenor.
It ended way too quickly in my mind, and I let out a big exhale as the crowd began to leave. I prepared to do the same myself but was approached by a pretty Lakelander girl wearing an acolyte’s garb.
“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but notice your impressive voice. By chance, would you be interested in joining the church’s choir? We’re always in need of male voices.”
I sighed as I made direct eye contact with the girl’s green eyes, “Sorry, I’d love to give it a try, but I don’t have the free time.”
She seemed unfazed by my rejection, and even smiled, “I can assure you that it’ll only be a few hours every week, and you’d only have to sing for 4 hours on Woodsday.”
“No, really, I don’t have any free time. I don’t even have the rest of the day off, I need to get back to the Mage’s Academy before noon, so that I can eat and go to my afternoon classes”
She started laughing, making me frown, but eventually stopped herself by clasping her hand over her mouth, “Sorry, but that was the worst made-up excuse that I’ve ever heard.”
My frown turned into a snarl, but I managed to stop myself from completely unloading on the ignorant girl, “That’s not an excuse, I really am training to become a mage.” Wanting to put the potential argument out to pasture, I summoned a tiny [Fire Orb] above my hand to visualize my point.
The acolyte gasped, then lowered herself into a bow, “My apologies, I should know better than to allow my biases to cloud my judgement.”
“It’s alright,” I let out a tired sigh, “I’ve gotten used to it.” I extended my hand, hoping to shake off the poor start, “My name is Travis, Apprentice Elementalist Mage.”
Her head shot up, then slowly took my hand, “Phoebe, Acolyte of Apheros. Are you perhaps from the village of Aelder Creek?”
“Umm, yes. Why do you ask?”
“I was told to bring you directly to the Archbishop, should you make your presence known. I’ll not waste your time any further, please allow me to escort you to her.” Her posture stiffened, and she held out a hand to point to somewhere further in the church.
I exhaled and grunted at the same time, then rubbed my face with both hands. The Archbishop was probably cross at me for getting the paladins kicked off campus. Ugh, I didn’t want to get involved in politics.
“Can we please not? I came here to enjoy the church service.” I lowered my voice to emphasize my next point, “The churches kicked themselves off campus when their paladins wouldn’t stop harassing me.”
Her eyes widened, and she shakily lowered her hand, “As you wish… is there, something else I can do for you?”
Pain filled my chest, I must have frightened her, because she could barely speak. I did my best to relax my tone and posture to make myself nonthreatening, “Umm, sure. Is there a depiction of Apheros preparing for his journey across the world? I’d like to say a quick prayer there before leaving.”
She nodded her head, then led me towards a giant oil painting depicting Apheros standing at the top of a hill, the Grand River below him, spear in hand, a hatchet and hammer on his right hip, a book in his left hand, a shield on his back, and the giant set of antlers on his shoulders. The artist took advantage of the medium and was able to add a striking amount of colors to the painting by having Apheros looking into the sunset, and even added a few vibrant green leaves to the ends of the antlers, making them look more like a set of bushtail deer’s, rather than a non-monster’s set.
Apheros, though I know it’s not your domain, please continue to provide what aid that you can, as I emulate the journey you once took. I hope to gain power, knowledge, and wisdom, just like you. For you are the one that inspired me to become more than just a simple farmer or blacksmith apprentice.
I also ask that you show mercy on Arc. I don’t know his full story, but he has been a kind and helpful friend to me throughout my journey, and it pains me to see him under such duress. So, if he’s been trapped in the sword by you as penance, I ask that you someday forgive him, should he prove himself worthy.
“Thank you.” I smiled at the beautiful girl, still feeling bad and wanted to let her know that I had no ill feelings towards her, “I’ll need to get going, but it’d be nice to see you again next week.”
She let out a relaxing breath, then smiled back to me, “Of course.”
I nodded my head, then proceeded to leave the church.
Phoebe watched as Travis left, then took off in an almost sprint towards the back of the main sanctum.
A pair of paladins blocked the door to the Archbishop’s office, but she knew that she had to relay her encounter, “Let me pass, I need to speak to the Archbishop.”
“She just finished a service and needs to rest and eat before the next.” The paladin glared at Phoebe, “I also don’t take orders from acolytes.”
“So, the Archbishop would rather not immediately hear that I met Travis?”
The eyes on the guards bulged, then one found the mental sense to open the door, allowing Phoebe to enter.
The archbishop was seated behind her desk with the High Paladin across from her and was startled by the disturbance.
“What brings you here under such urgency child?”
“Archbishop Artemisia, I was told to report directly to you if I encountered a Travis from the village of Aelder Creek.” She then spoke of her encounter, being careful to retell Travis’ exact words to the two. Her arms and shoulders finally went limp from the emotional exhaustion
The High Paladin poured her a stiff drink, then began to escort her towards the couch, “You did well, and exactly as told. It would have been unwise to force Travis to come before the Archbishop.” He turned to his superior so that he could tilt his head towards the girl, but received a nonverbal no from the archbishop, “Rest here, we’ll return once the two of us have a private conversation.
Artemisia and the paladin exited towards a back room that had a private altar, but more importantly, a sound-proof door.
The paladin broke the silence first, “This is all my fault, I angered him by disturbing his plans instead of letting him contact us when he felt it was appropriate.”
Artemisia placed a comforting hand on the paladin, “It’s mine as well for sending you, at least we have a clue to his intentions now.” She let out a deep, tension relieving sigh, “Sneaking in without any of us noticing… he could have brought down the entire building, Apheros is truly more patient than the other gods. We should count our blessings.”
The High Paladin nodded his head, “Indeed, what are your commands for proceeding? Should we inform the girl?”
“No. She’s only been told that he’s the son of a prominent church figure and should be treated with the utmost of respect. It’s best if she remains ignorant, the truth may make her go catatonic.”
“Hopefully she doesn’t interpret that as ‘he’s a rebellious youth that needs to be reined in,’ I had to get after a few of the junior paladins for shaking down an academy student.” He let out a sigh, “I’d hate to imagine what would have happened if he ran into them instead of the acolyte.”
Artemisia let out a small chuckle that seemed to surprise her, before growing thoughtful, “He asked to see her again… I guess Travis is a teenage boy… I’ll give the girl a few assurances so that she won’t fear her next encounter with him. Hopefully, he’ll take a liking to her.”
“Hmm, she has been with us for a while now… I could probably arrange for her to have a private room without drawing suspicion.”
“Excellent idea, as for everything else…” the archbishop looked to the altar, trying to determine the best answer, “Go fetch Travis’ father, we’ll need his insight.”
---
Arc
“The paladin then demanded to know my name, despite the fact that I have been attending that church since before I could even walk.” Jethro shook his head, “It was easily the second worst trip to church in my life.” He finished his tale at the lunch table, then turned to Travis, “Again, I’m sorry for how my sister acted.”
Travis waved the fellow Lakelander off, “It’s fine, just promise me that you’ll thoroughly embarrass her when you tell her who I really am.”
Jethro smiled, then started giggling, then broke out into a painful sounding laugh that had him clutching his sides and falling prone on the bench. The reaction shocked and worried everyone, but Jethro eventually calmed down enough to explain through his convulsions, “I’ve never… gotten… one over… on… my sisters… they’ll be… so mad…”
Adrian shook his head along with the others, then turned to Travis, “Sounds like the paladins were looking for you.”
Travis nodded his head, “An acolyte tried to take me right to the Archbishop, had to get mean and tell her no.”
“Probably for the best, one of the senior students was bad-mouthing you when I went to church the other day. Apparently, the paladins used to provide carriages for the students here, but since they were banned, some of the more religious nobles had to start organizing and paying for rides instead.”
Travis buried his head in his arms, “Why am I getting blamed? They’re the ones who kept harassing me!”
“Because you were the final plucked leaf that killed the tree. Maybe we can leave a complaint with admissions that you’re being blamed?”
Travis reached down to give my pommel a nice rub, sending a satisfying wave of pleasure all the way down my handle and blade from the touch.
Wait… did I just feel that?
Now hyperaware, I put my senses on full alert, but like usual… the only sense I had was sight. Sure, I modified my patch to auto-translate sound vibrations into words, but I wasn’t actually “hearing” anything.
To be sure, I replayed the memory, but didn’t feel anything.
Hmm, maybe I just imagined or hallucinated it?
---
Travis
1-3 Artifice 1
The bearded T.A. gave me the nod to begin, and I amped up my internal mana while doing the same with the Wind gem in my right hand. I kept slowly rising it, until it got close to matching the pulse rate of the gem in my left hand. I kept nudging it, slowly… slowly… there!
I closed my eyes, and fully activated my mana sight to inspect the two gems. A grin escaped me, and I looked up at the mostly Fire and Earth Mana dwarf that was observing me then nodded.
They took the gems from me, checked to confirm that they were synced, then handed back one of the gems and grabbed a new one that was very close in pulse rate to the first.
Ok, now for the dangerous part.
I took a big breath to calm my nerves. Unlike the last procedure where I brought up my internal mana along with the gem’s, using a mana crystal to increase my pulse rate while lowering the gem’s could harm my spell membrane if I wasn’t careful. Luckily, increasing your mana amperage with a crystal is much safer than lowering it, so I wasn’t likely to harm myself unless I pulled too much.
I focused on my left hand that held the faster pulsing gem, and let my internal mana get drawn to it. I then slowly pulled back, feeling the pulse rate of my internal mana rise from the foreign source. Keeping tabs on the gem in my right hand, I kept pulling slowly, until… there.
I looked up at the smiling dwarf, who gave me a pat on the shoulder, “Good job! Not many can get it on their first try.”
I slumped back into my seat, and set the gems down on the workbench, “Not going to lie, that was nerve-wracking.”
The orange-bearded dwarf chuckled, “Always is the first time, from what I’ve heard, most knights go out of their way to not use that technique. They just grab the bloke whose helmet has the most active message inscription, then use that one to sync their channels.”
I nodded my head, and Arc agreed as well, “Sounds smart, no need to put yourself at even a minor risk if a completely safe alternative is easily available.”
The T.A. looked around the busy classroom then chuckled, “Looks like it’ll be a while before everyone else finishes. Anything you want to know about artifice while we wait?”
Yes! So many things!
I wrangled control of myself and calmly took a breath, then asked my first question, “Is there a way to discharge a crystal without having to use that method?”
“Yep, the professor will go over it once everyone is finished, but the short is that they act just like ambient mana and will discharge if direct contact is made with other less active mana. The easiest way to do that is to set up the gems into an open-ended condensing array and let the constant stream of fresh mana slowly strip away the charge.”
“Ooh, I bet that’s how Lancel’s sword…”
I interrupted Arc’s thought by giving his pommel a nice rub and smiled, we were both thinking the exact same thing, “So if they were used in a sword’s inscription, they would naturally discharge if the blade was kept unsheathed, but then you could just slowly amp up the crystals to match your own internal mana once you learn how to fully attune to the sword.”
The dwarf let out a small chuckle, “That’s the idea. Why waste time in battle trying to construct a spell when you can just use a pre-made one?”
“I take it there’s some drawbacks?”
“Of course. For starters, the materials are expensive, even if you’re using Mana dust instead of gems. Then there’s the fact that you can’t modify the spell to suit your needs. And finally, you need to fully learn the attunement aspect of dwarven-based spellcasting. Matching your internal mana to match an inscription is the easy part but creating a continuous conduit to it, is much trickier, and flat out impossible if there’s not enough embedded mana in the housing to create the pipe.”
Hold on, is that what Reidar was referring to?
I took a moment to collect my thoughts, then asked, “Wait a sec, a weapon usually has Metal or Wood Mana embedded in them, does that mean it doesn’t have to match the inscription’s mana type to create the conduit for attunement?”
“Nope, in fact it’s better if it doesn’t. Then the mana from your conduit won’t interfere with your inscription’s.”
I nodded my head and gave Arc another rub, a bit surprised that he was being so quiet, “So how difficult is it to fully master attunement?”
The T.A. wiggled their hand in front of me, “It depends, us dwarves and elves are usually able to learn each other’s styles with only some difficulty, but a majority of you humans have the same amount of trouble learning our style that we have trying to learn yours.”
I thought back to when I first learned to cast spells, “So it didn’t feel like you were peeling off a giant dried scab the first time you detached your synced mana?”
They leaned against the workbench, taking advantage of my seated position to look directly even with me while grinning, “There are always exceptions. I should know, I’m one of them. I was able to physically keep up with the senior blacksmiths with little effort when I was younger, but it still feels like I’m ripping my arm hairs off every time I cast a [Fire Missile].”
Wow. I guess everyone is built a little different.
I noticed out of the corner of my eyes that the rest of the class was finishing up, much to my disappointment, “Wish we could keep talking, but it looks like we’re almost out of time.” I extended my hand, “By the way, my name is Travis.”
The bearded took my hand, “Durinnsognir Wardenforge, but you can just call me Durinn for short.”
My eyebrow raised in surprise, “Wardenforge? Does that mean you’re a descendant of The Warden?”
“Ha, me and a good chunk of all dwarven kind share his name. Heck, I doubt there’s anyone left who doesn’t have him as an ancestor.”
“Well thanks again, I haven’t had a chance to craft anything in over a month now, and I’m starting to get that itch. I hope we get to make something in this class soon, especially now that I know what I can do with artifice.”
They scratched their orange beard after taking back their hand, “Hmm, if you got some free time, I could always show you what I’ve been working on for my thesis.”
I drooped my head, and let out a weary chuckle, “I’m only available at 9, so unless you brought it to my private spell range time at 7, I probably won’t get to see it.”
They looked at my shoulder, then had a look of comprehension, “Oh, you’re that human I’ve been hearing about!”
“Anything good?”
They laughed, “The Quartermaster wouldn’t stop chatting about your poleaxe to us grad students. The old codger was acting like a pair of square-jawed dwarves showed up at their mating nest with a big set of mason jars.”
I tilted my head at that statement. Ok, I need Arc to add “pick up a book on dwarven anatomy and maybe also courting rituals” to my quest list.
They noticed the instructor preparing to speak again, “Tell you what, I got a project I can bring, but only to a private range. Let me know a good date.”
I waved goodbye to the dwarf, then gave Arc a scratch, “That should be a lot of fun.”
“What? Oh, right, yes. Can’t wait to see what they bring.”
I lower my voice, “Is something wrong?”
“Umm, no, just got distracted.”
I fought back a frown. First Arc gets spooked about going to church, and now he’s clearly anxious about something.
My hand gave his pommel a slow and gentle rub. I know he can’t physically feel it, but Dad always said that the most important thing was to project your intent, and I wanted him to know that he could trust me.