The first day of winter Liam woke up to the sound of cheering and song.
Of course he didn’t know it was the first day of winter. For him the cold season had started two weeks ago with the need for heavier clothes and heating stones, something he had never known he’d needed in his life until he had. Apparently he’d found out that there were also chilling stones that people used during summer, but he’d never gotten to use them, what with him arriving only by the end of it.
Slowly, groggily, his brain numbed by artificial fog, he reached up to his neck and took off the necklace he was wearing. Immediately his mind began clearing up, his thoughts becoming straighter and faster.
Sometimes he missed being able to dream, but then he remembered what the [Dreams Painted Red] were like and thought better of it. There were more important things in this world than dreams. Like his work, his project, food, his sanity, Amari - he blocked that thought off, his cheeks coloring slightly - and finding out why people seemed so happy at… he checked the clock on the wall of his room and saw it was six in the morning.
He slowly crawled out of bed and left his room, being careful to not walk anywhere near any furniture, right in the middle of the room where a safe corridor led to the door. Sure, the base of everything here was padded to reduce the pain, but even that only numbed it slightly if you rammed full force with your pinky finger into it. He’d found that out the hard way. It was amazing how many little things one had to look out for when luck was literally against you in every waking moment.
Opening his door, the first thing he saw was Sigmund standing by one of the window walls which was now, surprisingly, open on a hinge he’d never seen. The cold air from outside didn’t get in though, thanks to some kind of enchantment or something like that. It was too early in the morning to think thoughts more complex than ‘I want coffee’. Coffee which he’d managed to get his hands on, at a high price, after he’d found out through some research that a [Druid] from the Kingdom of Occultism (which, by the way, was one of the coolest names he’d ever heard) on Irevia.
He padded close to Sigmund and looked out at a crowd of people in the distance cheering some soldiers who were doing what looked like a procession.
“What’s happening?” he asked, completely forgetting his manners.
Sigmund answered him without looking away: “It’s the first day of winter, which means all the [Soldiers] are coming back home to rest.”
Liam frowned: “Not that I’m sad about it, but all of them?”
“Yup.”
“Then what if the enemy attempts to attack us back?”
“The enemy would greatly regret it.”
The lizardman finally turned away from the window and looked him in the eyes: “You know, the Law. Did you forget?”
Liam panicked internally, somehow managing to keep his face straight while doing so, and shrugged: “I… never really gave it much thought.”
Sigmund frowned slightly, muttering: “You must’ve come from a quiet peaceful place then.”
Then he shrugged and explained, his voice back to normal, as he went back to look out of the window. Liam noticed how hard he was gripping the glass.
“It’s a quite old Law. [No War Shall Be Fought In Winter]. Story goes, it was the Musician, you know the one, the one from the saying ‘to go musician’, who decided that wars shouldn’t ever be fought during winter and went around until his last breath to be a pain in the ass of any and every nation that decided to fight from the moment the first snowflakes fell.
“He died on a battlefield but the System recognized his strength of will or something like that, and now we have this Law. If you ask me, it’s a blessing. It means that for three months, each year, my daughter doesn’t have to risk her life.”
Liam nodded: he’d long since decided to take in stride any kind of strangeness he found out about anything in this world. But then something began nagging at him: “Wait, but how can we be sure that people are following this Law?”
And at that Sigmund laughed: “You’re seriously asking that? We’re talking about a fucking Law Liam. Something on the same level as the Laws the gods put unto reality when they made Creation. Things like gravity, the fact that we breathe air. It’s a Law, of course it’s followed. Soldiers all over the world would sooner start a revolution and dethrone their kings than go against that Law. And even if, for some reason, someone managed to start a war, the Musician would come to greet them rather… coldly, shall we say.”
He shivered: “I’ve seen recordings of what happened the last time someone started a war in winter. Only thing I want to say is, apparently, there are much worse destinies than death.”
Then his smile came back, showing off some of his sharp looking teeth, and he kept on looking out the window.
And Liam? He just went to the kitchen and began prepping breakfast, because winter or not, war or not, he had work to do that day, and doing it on an empty stomach wouldn’t be good.
Fifteen minutes later he and Sigmund were sitting at the kitchen table, forks and knives in hand, slowly and diligently, one might say even mechanically, eating. Liam hadn’t noticed it, but he was taking on some of the lizardman’s habits, such as his way of eating like every piece was supposed to count, could be the last he ever ate.
Then they sat on the couch doing nothing in particular until eight in the morning, when they both rose (in synchronicity) from their resting positions and walked down into the lab.
Twenty minutes later a pink line of smoke rose from the second chimney over their house-workshop. It steadily grew in dimensions, the output of smoke getting greater and greater, until exactly one minute and twenty two seconds after the beginning of this strange phenomenon the front door of the shop opened and a screaming Liam and Sigmund were ejected.
Ten seconds later all over the city a sound not unlike that made by the strange new items used by the kingdom’s [Knights], the ones that exploded, could be heard everywhere in the city.
Somehow, the shop wasn’t obliterated.
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“How many times has this happened?” asked Liam as he rummaged around the ruins of the laboratory. Luckily for… probably the whole city, Sigmund had the Skill [Isolate Room]. The laboratory, however big it was, was still one room, which meant the Skill applied to it. He’d also used his [Emergency Escape] Skill, which was how they’d managed to get out of the lab as fast as they had without the protective gear. Yes, because apparently the Skill was thoughtful enough to remove clothing in case it had been somehow contaminated. Which was good, because they had no idea if they’d actually been.
“The laboratory exploding because I mixed together in an airtight glass bubble a mandrake’s scream, an ice elemental’s core, the tarot of the Lovers and a small amount of mythril powder? This was the first time. The laboratory exploding because of me mixing together random things to see if an interesting potion or item can come out? A few times. The laboratory exploding in general? Try asking the neighbors, maybe one of them kept count.”
“I thought you made safety procedures to make sure this didn’t happen.”
Sigmund shook his index finger left and right, a difficult task considering he was wearing heavy duty leather gloves that would make a blacksmith proud, but his heart was in it: “Nah ah ah, I made my procedures to make sure the people working were safe. The working environment is kept safe as a consequence, not as a principle. But you know what they say, can’t create something new without exploding a few times.”
Liam raised an eyebrow as he found a glass flask in pristine condition and, after examining it for a few seconds through thick glass goggles to make sure there were no bubbles or cracks, put it together with the rest of the items he’d salvaged.
“How many new things have you made in all these years Sigmund?”
“Enough to make me see that this method worked,” answered the lizardman with a big smile.
“I can agree with him. My teacher too, for the matter,” said a third, unexpected voice coming from the entrance of the laboratory.
The two of them turned towards it and there, rummaging through the safety equipment lockers, was a small man with the bushiest beard Liam had ever seen. When he looked away from the locker he was holding a small set of leather armor, but what striked Liam more were his eyes: red as the setting sun. His face was signed by laugh lines and his dark red hair was singed off in a few places, as if he’d just come out of an explosion himself.
“Hello, pleasure to meet you. The name’s Gaius and I’m miss Bevia’s apprentice. Or rather, was. I graduated. One of the few people who managed to too. The woman’s a devil straight from Airm, and I see where she got that from. Or rather, who.”
He finished putting on the equipment, which seemed to fit him like a glove, although he frowned at the pants: “This belt needs a few extra holes,” he muttered to himself as he tightened it as much as he could.
“What are you doing?” asked Liam, clearly confused.
“Helping out, naturally. Us [Crafters] got to help each other, and you lot seem to need a lot of help.”
He looked around and, after a moment, chose a pile of ruined… something, Liam couldn’t tell for certain what it had been, and began rummaging. A moment later he came up with something, looked at it, nodded, and put it to the side.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
And then, as if by silent agreement, they all went back to work as if nothing strange had happened. Because that was what true [Crafters] did, the kind who shared the knowledge of their creations, without keeping secrets, to help the world make even a single step forward. So much had been lost, so much was yet to be discovered.
It took them an hour to finish their scavenging, after which they all took the items they’d found upstairs and sat in the kitchen with beers in front of them.
“So, Gaius right?” asked Sigmund.
“Yup!”
“How’s my greatest student?”
“Bevia? When she heard I was coming here she ordered me to tell you this: ‘I’ve become better than you as both a [Researcher] and a [Teacher] and you can come suck my feathery ass. Lovingly, Beria’.”
Both the dwarf and the lizardman burst out laughing at that.
“She hasn’t changed one bit.”
“As far as I know, no, she hasn’t.”
“Got anything for me other than her message?”
“I’ve got an entire bag of holding of her stuff,” he said with a smile, unhooking one of two bags of holding on his sides and handing it over.
“Well now, I’ll have to repay the kindness. Wait here for a moment while I go gather my stuff for her. Liam, do keep the beers coming. Anyone who’s graduated from one of my graduates has got a right to that.”
And with that, the lizardman stood and walked downstairs, where the items he was looking for were probably already waiting.
Meanwhile, the dwarf kept on sipping.
Until, finally, he spoke: “You’re Liam, right?”
His tone was friendly, and he was smiling in satisfaction, although if that was for the beer or for meeting him, Liam couldn’t tell.
“It’s me, yes.”
Gaius nodded: “Ah, good good. So you’re the boy who created black powder, am I right?”
At that he froze in place, fear gripping his guts. Was this it? Was this the moment when someone would attempt to kill him for having brought something new and dangerous to this world?
“Oh don’t worry boy, I ain’t here to kill you. I’m no [Assassin] or some such. Actually, I think you won’t find a dwarven assassin… anywhere in the world. We’re too bulky for that,” he chuckled.
Liam relaxed slightly, attempting to return the smile, and only managing a grimace.
“I’m just impressed. I always thought us dwarves would be the only ones to ever think about mixing shit in a trough for a few months to get the required material for making the explosives. It’s not exactly straightforward. So tell me: how did you come up with the idea?”
For the second time that day Liam panicked internally, again somehow managing to keep it all from showing on the outside, or so he thought, because not a few moments later the dwarf nodded and raised a placating hand: “Don’t worry, there’s no actual need to tell me. You can keep the secrets about your benefactor to yourself.”
“I didn’t have a benefactor,” said Liam before he could stop himself, his pride getting the best of his reason.
The dwarf raised an eyebrow, then nodded, making a satisfied face: “Welp, [Truth] Spell says you’re not lying, same goes for my instincts. Which means you came up with the idea yourself. In which case, well, congratulations.”
Liam’s mind settled down at that and he managed to stutter out a ‘Thank you’ before he settled down in his chair.
After an entire minute of this, with Sigmund downstairs still rummaging around and, one time, making something crush to the ground, to his great cursing, Liam finally asked: “So, dwarves already know about gunp - black powder?”
Gaius nodded: “Oh, we do. We’ve known about it for a long time. We use it to help in the mining operations, but other than that? We don’t want to develop more technology around it, not anymore. We saw how badly that ended. We can see it now still, what with your [King] using it to make war upon all of Rodar.”
Again, Liam began sweating: “And… you’re not angry?”
“Not really, no. We always knew someone would else would come up with a recipe for it sooner or later. We’re actually surprised it took this long, if you can believe it! But then, wars bring many kinds of ravages, and the worst of them are the ones that affect knowledge,” he sighed, and for a moment the dwarf appeared… old. Much older than one would think, even considering his face.
“I do hope you’ll keep creating though, Liam. Minds like yours, that can think outside the box, are rare. Nowadays it’s all a ‘The gods this’ and ‘the gods that’ and ‘the sacred scriptures’ and such bullshit, and people forget that they have the ability to think. So please, boy, never change. That will make my next century much better.”
And Liam choked on his beer, some of it trickling out of his nose.
Gaius stood and strode over giving him a few good pats on the back and dislodging the liquid from his lungs, before going back to his seat.
“So, what’s next?” he asked once Liam had gotten all the air he needed.
“What do you mean what’s next?” he countered, his voice still slightly rough.
“I refuse to believe that a craftsman such as you, working with Sigmund, hasn’t gotten some ideas for some half assed and most probably impossible project. Especially at your low Level.”
“Wait, you can see my Level?”
“Yup. [Appraisal] Spell. Looked down upon by most of the world, you’ll never find a respectable [Mage] without it. You should ask Sigmund to teach you how to craft and Anti-[Appraisal] ring. Or, even better, a confound-[Appraisal] one, although those are much more complex.”
Liam put his head in his hands and sighed dejectedly. Why did every single person he met have to be so strange? Just why?!
“Come on boy! I’m curious. And two brains are better than one.”
Indeed, two brains were better than one, but he had Sigmund for that. Who was to say that this dwarf wouldn’t steal his ideas after they’d talked?
“Don’t worry, I won’t steal your idea boy. Yes, I can see it in your eyes, I can’t read minds. If it makes you feel better you can cast a [Truth Spell] on me.”
“I can’t cast that, and I don’t have an artifact for that with me.”
The dwarf nodded and, after a moment of thought, slid a ring off his finger, handing it over: “Take this then. A present. They’re rather easy to make.”
Liam observed the simple ring: it was clearly made from silver, which had been polished to a sheen, one might go as far as to say that it had been kept maniacally clean. A single clear stone had been set on top, a small mote of light seemingly trapped inside.
“You would give away a magical item… just like that?”
The dwarf shrugged: “Meh, I have a spare. And as I said, they’re rather easy to make. Also, you’re going to need it in the future.”
Liam gently took the ring in his hands and, after a moment of hesitation, slid it onto his middle finger. Then, out of the blue, he said: “The sky is green.”
Immediately the stone shone a bright red.
“My name is Liam Ray.”
This time the stone shone green.
And Gaius nodded, a small smile on his face: “Very good, you even went as far as checking the merchandise. You’d be surprised how many people don’t do that. Here’s a tip Liam: never trust [Merchants]. The best of them will sell good things at overly inflated prices, and the normal ones buy in bulk without checking too well on who’s selling the stuff.”
Liam frowned: “Surely that’s not all of them.”
“Of course not. That’s just a majority. The fools have even forgotten half their language.”
His frown deepened: “Merchants have a language of their own.”
“Had,” corrected him Gaius, “As I said, they forgot most of it. Which was supposed to be impossible. It was made by cobbling together all the languages in the world into a strange amalgama, a monstrosity that would make any [Scribe] shiver, but that somehow worked. They made it possible for everyone all over the world to sort of understand them. And to sort of understand each other. It never really took root, but the idea was good. A single, universal, language. It certainly would’ve helped when I first started learning Rodarion to impress Bevia.”
Liam smirked: “Impress, eh?”
“Oh, absolutely, and especially in the way you’re thinking. Sadly the girl is married to her job. Which is a shame, she’s great company. Also, Rodarion was the best choice, since I’ve yet to find a single harpy willing to teach their true language to an outsider.”
Liam decided to file away that line of questioning for later.
Then, finally, he asked: “So you’re not going to steal any of my ideas.”
“I won’t,” he answered. The stone shone green.
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Sigmund found Liam and Gaius poring over his projects for the Gun-That-Fires-Endlessly (he was still working on a name, alright? And no, Infinigun did not sound good), throwing ideas at each other.
“I’m telling you, you need a good power source.”
“But what am I going to use? Mana Gems are my best bet.”
“They’re not going to have enough power.”
“So I’ll just have to use more!”
“They’ll exhaust the charge and then you’ll have to change them out, which would mean disassembling your whole weapon.”
“Couldn’t I saturate the inside with mana?”
“Enough to keep the gems running? You’d need a dragon’s corpse for that.”
“Isn’t there anything less… lethal?”
“Liam, we’re talking about corpses of highly magical creatures. The more mana a living being absorbs, the more powerful it becomes. Especially monsters. Although in their case more mana means stranger bodies and mutations to bring you nightmares. So no Liam, there aren’t many non-lethal options.”
“Actually,” interjected Sigmund, wiggling into the conversation, “there is another way: condensing mana cores taken from particularly powerful monsters could potentially create a self-sustaining environment where excess mana is used to recharge the core. That’s how they used to make golems, oh, I don’t know, centuries ago?”
“Yeah, but you try to find someone crazy enough to do that these days,” countered the dwarf.
“Oh, I’m pretty certain I’d just need to ask Mountainhome. Surely there’s got to be something there, right? After all, you dwarves manufacture most of the golems one can find around.”
Suddenly Gaius became serious: “The business of Mountainhome stays there. We use only what we can spare, and nothing more. You won’t find sellers for what you’re asking there.”
Well, that is a scary face, thought Liam.
Then he was back to normal and they went on to converse among themselves, throwing in ideas on what could be done. The problem of the power source for his weapon was put aside for the moment in favor of things like the best ways to use space inside the hole in reality where he would need to put all the workings of his project. Because yes, soon Sigmund would teach him how to make bags of holding, which would then allow him to finally actually start working on his project.
They stayed like that for thirty more minutes before someone coughed and a voice Liam recognized said: “Bookworms, the lot of you.”
He turned around and was greeted by a smiling Amarie.
“I’m home, dad.”