They approached the small smithy, nestled within the hollow of the rocky wall. Tiny crevices in the rocky surface emitted smoke from the numerous fires inside the shop. Towards the front, several wooden tables displayed the wares of the smith. The selection was rather modest, leaning towards utilitarian items such as pickaxes, nails, a few daggers, and various tools scattered haphazardly for passersby to inspect.
"You have to pay up! Your son wrecked my shop!" the human exclaimed, directing his anger at a disgruntled Gormak. Patch stood just behind him, trembling with fear, yet Talax noticed him discreetly reaching for a small hammer hanging from a post.
"I won't be parting with a single copper! My son was lending you a hand out of the kindness of his heart!" Gormak retorted, firmly holding onto his precious coins.
"What are you talking about?" the smith demanded. "He's been here for just a few minutes and has already managed to destroy two hammers, shatter a sword I've been working on for weeks, and deface a family heirloom!" The human smith's face grew even redder, and spittle flew as he spoke.
"I thought dwarves were natural craftsmen, but your son is a catastrophe! Get him out of my shop!" Gormak declared indignantly. "Don't you dare insult my son!" His yells prompted Talax to step in. The altercation had drawn the attention of the villagers, who had stopped to observe and whisper among themselves, casting curious glances at the two dwarves.
Fearing that the situation might escalate and lead to their expulsion from the village, Talax attempted to smooth things over. "Excuse me, my good man, how about we find a way to put this unpleasant incident behind us?" His charming smile captured the smith's attention, and he appraised Talax from head to toe. However, Gormak was having none of it and interjected with a furious voice.
"Master Talax, I won't be paying this swindler a single copper!" the dwarf declared indignantly. Talax narrowed his eyes in an attempt to silence the dwarf and continued, "I apologize for my friend; he can be fiercely protective of his son. I'm sure you understand the need to protect one's child. You strike me as an intelligent and compassionate man, and I'm confident that you'll find it in your heart to forgive my friend's behavior." The smith's face remained marked by a deep frown, and his aggressive posture showed no signs of softening despite Talax's words.
With a quiet sigh, Talax pressed on. "I can cover the cost of any damage Patch may have caused." At the mention of payment, the smith's face lit up with a smile, and he nodded vigorously. However, Gormak, still incensed, appeared ready to engage in another shouting match. "Qalo, could you please take Gormak and Patch back to the inn? I'll join you shortly." Talax didn't allow his smile to waver, and he kept his gaze fixed on the human smith.
There were some grumbles from the dwarf, but he eventually followed Qalo, dragging a muttering Patch with him, clutching something other than his favorite disc in his arms. Once they were alone and the small crowd had dispersed, realizing the entertainment had concluded, Talax addressed the smith. "Once again, I apologize for my friend's behavior. His son, as you may have noticed, is not entirely sound of mind, and Gormak can become quite defensive."
The smith nodded in understanding, his face now filled with feigned compassion, knowing that coins were at stake. "Yes, I left the boy alone for a few moments, and everything he touched seemed to fall apart," he said, shaking his head in dismay. "He's like a walking disaster; metal seems to crack under his touch, as if it can't bear it. I've never seen anything like it..."
Talax frowned at the man's words but then noticed his eager expression. He asked the question he had been dreading, "So... How much do you require?" The smith moistened his lips before responding, "Ten silvers and six coppers for everything." Talax nodded, unsure if it was a fair price but sensing the smith might be trying to squeeze a few extra coins out of the situation. Talax decided to oblige but not before securing something for himself.
"I'll give you twelve silvers, but I'd like you to share some information about the cloud monasteries. I'll be heading there tomorrow and could use some guidance." The smith frowned, but when he saw Talax produce the gleaming coins from his bag, he began to speak.
"There isn't much to say about them. The monasteries were founded centuries ago by some lunatics that wanted enlightenment. They believed that by distancing themselves from the mortal world, the Gods would help them advance and evolve their skills," the smith explained, his tone laced with skepticism and a touch of condescension toward the monks. "Some claim they achieved their goal, but I'm not convinced. Perhaps being close to the ley lines helped a few of them develop certain affinities, but nothing more. I've lived here all my life, and I've never heard of a God visiting or helping the monks, not even Erling, whose name the monks often invoke and venerate."
As he spoke, the smith began tidying up his displays, adjusting the positioning of the few daggers on the wooden table before looking up again.
"The monasteries gained fame, attracting skilled adventurers who came seeking enlightenment. Most left disappointed, but a few stayed, and a new breed of adventurers emerged, young and inexperienced warriors drawn by tales of masters striving to perfect their skills. You see, this was all before my time, a long while back. Nowadays, visitors are few. The world has grown more dangerous, and few dare to brave the wilderness. However, there are still some masters who occasionally make their way to the cloud monasteries. Currently, there's a renowned elf warrior drawing attention and bringing in new visitors. Is that why you've come?" the smith inquired with curiosity.
Talax shook his head. "No, I've heard that the monasteries harbor shamans who might be able to help me locate a friend." The smith nodded, as if this request was a familiar one. "Ah, yes, there's a young man there, although he isn't a shaman. I believe he can help you; he has some kind of magic that allows him to find people." Talax breathed a sigh of relief, and Aria shared in his relief.
"I was afraid there might be no one left to help us, but it seems Ha’arun smiles upon us, even beyond the veil!" she remarked. "Are you sure you don't want to head to the cloud monasteries today?" she asked, getting straight to the point. "The sooner, the better."
"No, Aria, I won't be traveling in the dead of night in this freezing cold. The shaman will be there tomorrow," Talax replied firmly, unfazed by Aria's impatience.
"Fine!" Aria responded curtly.
Turning his attention back to the eager smith, who awaited his reward, Talax inquired, "One last thing, is the journey to the cloud monasteries a long one?" The smith momentarily stared at Talax before answering, "Nah, it's a couple of hours to reach the first monastery. There are several monasteries scattered among the peaks. If you're lucky and don't encounter any mountain lions, you should arrive by midmorning."
Talax handed over the coins, which the smith pocketed with delight. After a few brief words, Talax left the smith to his work and made his way back to the inn. The wind had intensified, causing his exposed skin to tingle from the cold. He donned his new coat and purchased a cup of mountain tea for two coppers from a nearby vendor.
The sweet taste of the tea warmed him from the inside as he observed the lively activity in the narrow alley. A man struggled to drag a stubborn goat, which protested with loud bleats. After a swift headbutt from the goat, the man tumbled into a stall selling dried fruits, much to the dismay of the vendor. The goat then effortlessly scaled a sheer wall, hopping from ledge to ledge until it perched on the roof of a nearby home.
A woman opened her window and began yelling at the man, who was now frantically pleading with the goat to return. Talax watched this spectacle with an amused smile. When the woman started hurling objects at the hapless man, Talax decided to intervene.
With a few deft hand movements and whispered words, he cast Tar of Restrain, creating a black sludge that ensnared the frightened goat. The trapped animal bleated in fear, drawing even more attention and the woman's fury. The man skillfully dodged the thrown objects and began scaling the house in an attempt to reach his wayward animal.
Talax didn't stay to witness the outcome, whether the man would successfully retrieve his goat or the enraged woman would finally hit her mark. He walked leisurely back to the inn, sipping his tea and observing as people lit candles for the night. Gradually, soft and warm light filtered through the open windows and storefronts lining the alley.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Talax stepped into the inn, which was rapidly filling up with a mix of locals and adventurers as night descended. The gnome who had previously played his lute in the plaza had now set up shop in the center of the inn, fielding rowdy requests from the patrons.
Scanning the room, Talax soon spotted Qalo and Gormak seated at a rickety table, each with a cup of mead in hand, engaged in animated conversation. Qalo's presence seemed to pique the curiosity of some locals, but their looks were more inquisitive than hostile. Navigating his way through the crowded tables, Talax joined his friends.
"Where's Patch?" he asked Gormak, who smiled warmly in response. "Don't you worry, Master Talax. Thanks to you, my son is soundly asleep in our room. I'd offer you another discount, but three percent is already too generous! Anyway..." The dwarf raised his hand in a celebratory gesture, "Cheers!"
Talax chuckled and glanced at the half-orc, who could only offer a helpless shrug. "It seems the two of you are well into your cups," Talax remarked.
"I'm fiiine!" Qalo slurred, thumping his chest with his fist.
Talax signaled a passing barmaid to bring him some food and then took a seat. "How's Patch doing?" he asked the somewhat inebriated dwarf. Gormak took another swig of his mead, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The boy is fine; I don't think he even understood what happened. It's just that whenever he sees a smithy, he can't resist running over, no matter what. He loves playing with metal." Gormak sighed, and his shoulders slumped.
"No matter how hard he tries, he can't forge metal even if his life depended on it. All he does is tinker and, unfortunately, sometimes destroy whatever he gets his hands on. He's a genius when it comes to fixing things up, but forging... that's not his strong suit." A barmaid arrived with a bowl of stew, a stale piece of bread, and a cup of mead for Talax. Gormak continued, "It's like he's drawn to what he can't have. The boy has zero affinity for smithing."
Talax chewed the stale bread, fearing he would break a tooth while nodding in agreement with Gormak's words. However, his enjoyment of the meal was interrupted when he sensed someone's gaze on his back. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine, reminiscent of the unseen monster that had once pursued him in a dark dungeon. He discreetly scanned the room, trying to identify the source of the scrutiny, and eventually found the gnome fixating on their table, with his eyes particularly fixed on Qalo rather than on him.
Frowning, Talax continued to scan the room but couldn't spot anyone else who seemed out of place. Eventually, he decided to dismiss the unsettling feeling and returned to his meal. Gormak and Qalo were engrossed in conversation when suddenly a stranger joined their table, setting down two mugs of mead and placing one in front of Talax.
Surprised, Talax looked up and recognized the man as the shepherd from earlier. He offered a warm smile and said, "I hope I'm not intruding; I just wanted to express my gratitude. Thanks to you, my goat is safely back in her pen. My name is Pete." He raised his mug in a friendly gesture.
Talax clinked his own mug against Pete's and introduced his friends. "Nice to meet you, Pete. I'm Talax, and my friends here are Qalo and Gormak," he said, pointing to each of them in turn. "And it was nothing, don't mention it," Talax added with a smile.
Pete appeared to be a weathered and thin man with rosy cheeks from the constant cold, dressed in worn clothing. The one item that stood out was his well-maintained heavy cloak adorned with intricate snowflake patterns and stitched with the signature bells of Miss Lina.
Talax pointed to the bells, which jingled with every movement, and inquired, "Do they really work? Miss Lina claimed they ward off ice wraiths, but I can't sense any mana."
For a moment, Pete appeared uncertain, as if he felt pressed into an uncomfortable spot. "Um, I'm just a simple shepherd. I know nothing of magic, only what I've experienced. I've seen Miss Lina's work in action, and it's saved me countless times. The ice wraiths shy away, and a few times, they even manifested right in front of me. When I used my bells, they vanished in a puff of light." Pete glanced guiltily at Talax and added, "If a master mage believes that Miss Lina is a fraud, then he must know better."
Talax rolled his eyes and turned to Aria, asking, "Why is he acting like this? Sometimes, I catch Gormak acting strangely around me." He heard Aria chuckle in response. "Talax, you're a mage. Magic users are rare and powerful. Their abilities inspire fear and respect among commonfolk. Most mages abuse that power, which only intensifies the fear of simple folks. The man is likely afraid that he might insult you, and you'd retaliate with your magic."
Talax frowned, realizing that he hadn't been around regular people much since gaining his magic. He had wandered the wilderness and later entered the dungeon, where he had encountered many people with magical abilities, including Franny, Vesperine, and even Walter. They had skewed his perception of how common magic was. Perhaps he had been wrong all along, and most people didn't possess any magic, not even the weakest form of abilities granted by skills.
Talax offered a reassuring smile to the fearful man and turned back to Aria. "That's messed up, although I understand being afraid of someone more powerful. But don't most people have abilities? It's still magic, even if it's less flashy."
Aria hummed, pondering how to explain the situation better. "Abilities vary. Not everyone has abilities as powerful or mana-reliant as yours or your friends'. Most people struggle to use and control mana, which directly affects their abilities. They gain abilities that they can actually use, meaning their effects are limited and require less mana. Even warriors have difficulty with mana control. If their affinity for mana manipulation is limited, they will acquire abilities that demand less control of mana, resulting in watered-down versions of your abilities, mostly with weaker passive effects."
Talax was taken aback by Aria's explanation. He had always thought that everyone had an equal chance to acquire incredible abilities, but it seemed that was not entirely true. Everyone had limitations, and what he had considered a given was, in reality, a precious gift that only a few earned. He felt increasingly grateful for his Voidborn nature, which allowed him to harness mana with ease and opened up a world of magic for him.
Turning his attention back to Pete, Talax tried to reassure him. "Oh, I'm not accusing Miss Lina of anything. I was just curious. So far, I could always detect enchantments, but these bells...," he trailed off, looking at the small bells on his own sleeves and moving his hands to make them chime. Still, he didn't detect any mana.
"Aria, do you have any idea why I can't sense the enchantment?" Talax inquired. Aria, always ready to assist, responded, "Enchantments are a rare skill. What the seamstress likely did was use some ability from her tailoring skill tree to ward off spirits or ice entities. Being so close to an ice ley line, it's quite possible that such an ability appeared, and she's using it to enhance her products. The effect is probably passive or activates only when there's actual danger that triggers the ward. Either she's a very skilled artisan, or the effect of her ability is quite limited. We shall see..."
Talax nodded thoughtfully, still inspecting his own coat. The long pauses during his conversation with Aria only seemed to further agitate Pete, who continued to regard him with fearful eyes. Among the group, only Qalo was aware of Aria's existence and understood that Talax was conversing with the fragmented spirit.
Gormak, growing impatient with the delay, interjected, "Enough with the chatter! What's the story here?" He pointed between them with his mug, causing the remaining contents to slosh around. "Another round for my friends!" Gormak called out to the passing barmaid, who promptly scurried off to fetch more alcohol.
Pete then explained the situation, saying, "The master mage helped me in my time of need. One of my goats strayed from the herd, and I was chasing it down the alley when the blasted thing started climbing up Viola's house. Of all the houses, the cursed thing chose that woman's house to climb." He let out an exasperated sigh, recalling the unpleasant encounter. "He cast a spell that trapped the goat long enough for me to reach her and bring her back to her pen." Pete finished with a grateful smile.
Gormak, however, responded bluntly, "For a shepherd, you're not doing a good job."
"It's not my fault!" Pete defended himself. "My herd was spooked by mountain lions! Those vicious cats have, for some reason, moved to the foot of the mountain. Usually, we're safe from them, as they hunt in the snowy peaks, but lately, we've been seeing more and more of them. Now they've targeted my precious goats. If anything happens to them, I won't be able to feed my children." The shepherd lamented, emptying his mug in one gulp.
Luckily for him, the barmaid arrived with a fresh round of mead, and Pete nursed his new drink. Talax wore a grim expression as he spoke, already knowing the answer to his question. "I'm guessing these cats have been spotted on the road to the cloud monasteries too?"
Pete vigorously nodded his head in response. "Yes, yes, Master mage. The monks now send initiates whenever they need supplies because the local shop owners refuse to brave the treacherous path. It has become the hunting ground for the mountain cats," he explained.
Talax nodded thoughtfully, realizing that the journey to the cloud monasteries might be more perilous than he had initially anticipated. As Gormak posed more questions, Talax sipped his mead, listening to their conversation while humming along to the cheery tune played by the gnome's flute.
Pete shared stories about Foothill Hollow, and once Talax ordered another round of drinks, the man seemed unwilling to stop talking. He discussed his nagging wife, his intelligent children whom he hoped would become mages one day, and, above all else, his precious goats. If one were to listen to him without knowing the context, they might think he was gushing over a beloved family member rather than some pebble-dropping animal.
Throughout the conversation, Qalo remained mostly silent, content to drink his mead while enjoying the camaraderie. However, at some point, the half-orc's head began to droop to the side, and with heavy eyelids, he mumbled, "Talax, I think I drank too much. I'm sleepy."
Talax looked at his friend with a small smile and responded, "Alright, buddy. It's time to get you to bed." He bid his farewells to the group and helped Qalo to his feet, sensing the persistent gaze on his back once more but choosing to ignore it.
As they walked away from the table, he overheard Gormak asking Pete, "So, do you have any dwarf ladies around here?"