IWUAaDNW: Party 5.3

Gwen and Ulfric returned from their run, the former soaked with sweat, the latter only slightly winded, and were intercepted on arrival by a young man whom I knew to be the son of Lork, one of the village’s blacksmiths.

The young man saluted with clasped hands and bowed to Ulfric. “Father wants you to know that his work is completed.”

“Oh?” Ulfric grunted. “That was quicker than expected.”

“The enchanting process took much less time than expected,” he said, motioning the two toward the crafters’ row. “Father assures me his work is worthy of all praises.”

Another grunt. “Yeah, Lork would say that.” He glanced at Gwen and said, “Follow.”

“Yes sir,” Gwen acknowledged, her voice betraying no exhaustion even though her brow was matted with sweat.

I lost them as they disappeared in the organized chaos of the village, only to spot them again through the eyes of a tamed ant when they reached the crafters’ row; not much more than just a spot in the village where the crafters had set up their workshops in relative isolation, so they could practice their noisy craft without bothering too many people. There was a bit of a commotion, though, as three men whom I recognized as blacksmiths––one of them being Lork himself––argued with each other over wrapped cloth bundles.

Seeing this, Ulfric raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I asked you for anything, old man,” he grunted at the oldest smith, a venerable cranky old fossil whom I usually saw toiling on small detail works; a number of people in the village had ornaments or baubles made by him.

“Bah! Just felt like the girl deserved a proper reward for her work. Druids know she won’t get it from you, or from the rest of these gnats.”

Rude.

He was grinning, though. One of his teeth was missing. Didn’t stop the other two from voicing their complaints.

“Sir?” Gwen blinked. “Uh… what?”

“You can’t keep using that dinky little dagger forever, girl,” Ulfric grunted. He nodded at the other two blacksmiths, and the first unfolded the cloth over the package he was holding. Gwen’s breath caught and her eyes widened.

The package was a shield, a bit larger than the one she had been using until now. Instead of wood, it was made of a dark blue material with a bright metallic sheen. Wait… elytra? Was this thing made out of Atlas’ recovered elytra?

It was relatively simple, otherwise, just a tall oval about three feet in length that gently curved inward to make it easier for blows to slide off. The inner side was lined with gold, though, which looked a bit weird paired with bare leather straps and the simplicity of the rest of the thing.

The shield was extended in her direction, and she nervously took it with a respectful bow.

“It’s enchanted for durability,” the blacksmith said. “I thought about decreasing its weight, too, but then I saw you carry that log around, so I thought, you know… she doesn’t need it.”

“Thank you, sir,” she bowed again, staring at her new shield in awe. Ulfric grunted.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Put it on.”

She did, dropping her current shield as an afterthought and sliding the gift over her arm with wide-eyed wonder. It was tall enough to cover her from shoulder to just below her thigh.

“We’re not done yet, lass,” Lork said. “That was just the appetizer. This is the real thing.”

Ignoring the first blacksmith’s outrage, he unfolded his own gift and revealed a weird kind of axe-pick hybrid. It was made of the same material as the shield––It had to be Atlas’ elytra––and was about a foot and a half from pommel to head. The pick side was about four inches long and ended with a hook, while the axe side was smooth and featured a blade about five inches tall. The handle was lined with gold bands, and both the knee and the eye were made of gold as well.

“Ulfric said you weren’t interested in swords, and were thinking between a mace and an axe, so… a pick is kind of like a mace, innit?” the second blacksmith chortled as he handed the weapon to the awed girl. Then, with a grin, he added, “Plus, you can use it to get a proper grip next time you want to climb on top of a monster!”

Gwen spluttered indignantly, and her face flushed as the blacksmiths and the crowd shared a laugh. Ulfric himself had a smirk that could almost be considered a grin.

“What enchants did you put on it?” Ulfric asked Lork. “Your son said it was easier than expected?”

“I managed to enchant it for speed, cutting power and durability, so it should last her for quite a while,” the blacksmith replied. The crowd started muttering in surprise, while Gwen’s jaw dropped.

“Three?” the girl stammered. “Sir, this is… I can’t…”

“Take it, girl,” Ulfric said.

“Trust me, you’ve more than earned it,” Lork agreed. “I couldn’t have made it without your work bringing that wing home. Besides,” he shrugged, “for some reason, enchants are super easy around here. They always seem to stick, and I haven’t had one that didn’t register on the first coin.”

“The planet is watching Our Lady,” the old man said matter-of-factly. “We knew that.”

Wait, did he mean me?

“And now if you’re done boring her with bland work,” the old man added, reaching into his own pocket, “here’s dessert.”

He pulled out a piece of pink chitin at the end of a rope, through which several holes had been drilled. From each hole was hanging either rings of gold or short ropes that ended with droplets of gold. A rope twice the length of the others was tied to the center, from which a jagged tooth-like ornament hung. An amulet.

“That, my dear, would bring a pretty coin if I was to sell it, but like the gnats just said, you’ve earned it. All of us have been watching you grow, girlie, and you’ve made bigger leaps and bounds than anyone expected. So this is yours,” he put it in her trembling hands. “It’ll bring you luck. Lots of it, actually; I put my special enchantment on it.”

“You shouldn’t… I…”

“Bah! Girl, take some pride in what you’ve accomplished! You’re well on your way to matching your dead-beat teacher at this point!”

“Dead-beat?” Ulfric grumbled.

Gwen bowed at the hip. “Thank you very much!”

The old man grinned. “Aye, that’s better. Now, just so you know, that amulet is the first part. This is the real dessert.”

He turned around and walked to his stall, then returned with a small dagger sheathed in a leather pouch, which he extended in her direction. She took it gingerly and, delicately, pulled it out of its sheath. The dagger was a bit less than a foot long, lined with gold and had a minimalist hand guard of wrapped cloth. The jagged shape of its weapon was familiar. It curved sharply around the mid-way point, and from the glinting of the morning sun on its edge, the blade was actually on the inside of the curve. It was less a dagger and more some kind of particularly thin kukri, then.

“That’s made from the dropped beetle jaw you brought back,” the old man said. “Enchanted for cutting power, speed, durability and accuracy!”

“Four?!” Gwen gasped. She nearly dropped the blade.

“Five!” The old man retorted, to the crowd’s surprise. “I also put a recall spell on it, keyed to the amulet. If you ever lose it, or rather have to throw it at some poor bastard’s head, just focus your mana in that amulet I just gave you, and it should reappear in front of you. Like the gnats said, enchants are extremely easy in these parts, so I decided to go the extra mile. Because why not!”

The old man cackled. Ulfric whistled.

“A… Are you sure?” Gwen asked. The old man glared at her.

“Girl, do you want another talking to?”

“Take it and use it, Gwen,” Ulfric told his student. “Make sure you become someone worthy of using those gifts.”

“Yes… yes sir,” she whispered in awe. She slid the dagger back in its sheath, then carefully wrapped its leather strap around her waist. She bowed again while the crowd applauded.

“Aye, now you look like a proper adventurer,” the old man cackled. Turning to Ulfric, he said, “Speaking of, the gnats have something for you, too.”

“Oh?”

Lork blinked, then sprung into action. “Ah, yes. Finished it this morning, actually. Boy! Bring it to me.”

“Yes father,” Lork’s son said. He disappeared inside his father’s forge for a moment. When he reappeared, he was fumbling with a large wrapped up bundle, nearly as long as he was tall and seemingly heavy enough to make the young man stumble. Gwen moved to help him, and within moments she was the one holding the bundle on her own, seemingly effortlessly.

Lork came close and unwrapped the top part, revealing a pair of massive-looking outward-curving blades about a foot and a half apart and two feet in length, held against a central shaft by a set of armatures forming a pair of Ms based around the shaft. He extended the head of the weapon toward Ulfric, who pulled it out one-handed. It was some kind of massive battle-axe, nearly six feet in length from head to tip, covered in gold patterns from end to end, and made of the same metallic blue material as the rest.

He grinned at Ulfric as the man inspected the weapon with wider eyes than I’d ever seen on him.

“Now, I wanted to make a big reveal on the enchantments I managed to put on this thing,” Lork began, “and for a moment there, I was afraid old man Thurrys was going to eclipse me, but thankfully he didn’t.”

“How many?” Ulfric asked.

“Eight.”

The weapon slid from his fingers and thudded against the grassy dirt, digging a furrow as it did so.

“Durability and speed, of course. That goes without saying on a weapon like that one,” said Lork while counting with his fingers, playing it for both Ulfric’s comically shocked face and the assembled crowd. “On top of that, I layered another speed, which you’ll need because there’s two mass enchantments on it, too, keyed to a trigger.”

“Optional mass?” Ulfric asked. He picked the weapon back up.

“Optional mass,” Lork confirmed with a grin. “I thought about using a lightning enchant instead, but hey, you’re a big guy, right? I thought you’d prefer mass.”

“I do,” Ulfric nodded, hefting the weapon at eye-level. His arm glowed a bit, and his mana flowed visibly through the gold inlays that covered the weapon. His muscles tensed visibly and he made a small grunt of exertion. “That’s… a lot.”

“I figured you’d get used to it fast enough. The last two enchantments are for sharpness and edge durability; get some real cutting power into that beast!”

“This is…” he shook his head and tore his eyes from the weapon in his hands. “Kingdoms would kill to have a weapon like this.”

“Bah,” Lork dismissed it. “Eight enchantments or not, the base material is still rubbish. For an adventurer of your caliber, this is barely acceptable. Once Our Lady starts providing us with higher tier materials, then, Druids willing, I swear I will produce the mightiest weapon ever seen by the Planet itself!”

“Not if I do it first,” the second blacksmith quipped.

“You gnats don’t have a chance.”

Lork’s son said nothing, but his arms were crossed challengingly.