Bloodsworn

Chapter 2.24 Mission Complete

24.

“It couldn’t have been that hard to get all this. You were only gone for a day or so,” Snowbeard said, a sly smile crossing his broad face as he stared up at Erak. The pile of coldforged iron sat between them and the dwarf had finally ripped his gaze away from the metal to tease the big warrior. Pomp leapt onto the pile of metal and snorted a cloud of icy mist. The metal under the dragon’s claws glowed briefly for a moment before returning back to its more dull state.

“Interesting. I may need to borrow the dragon as I forge this armor. Need your measurements as well. Now, this armor won’t be like what you were wearing earlier. That was cheap steel, a replica. It derived its strength from its rarity,” Snowbeard began to lecture. Erak didn’t even have to force himself to pay attention, this was much more interesting than Rutledge’s speeches.

“Likely because I actually care about this subject.”

“Now, the rarity comes from a mix of things. The quality of the product, the skill of the creator, and in your armor’s case, how people viewed it. It was a replica piece from a great warrior of the Conquering, so many people held it in great esteem. It gained strength from that, but at the end of the day it was cheap material that wasn’t worked by anyone of great skill. Thus it folded much more quickly than true rare grade armor would.” Snowbeard looked over at Erak’s partly melted suit of armor before sighing.

“I have yet to create a pure Rare grade armor suit. Uncommon has been what I've been able to forge lately. Never had this high quality of product before. This by itself would get me close to it and my skill has improved immensely the last few weeks by working on your ruined gear to try to salvage it. That and going through some of the old texts again,” Snowbeard said. He pointed to a pair of monstrous tomes that sat far away from the forge or work station. It was the only clean place in the entire forge.

“Now with this suit, it’s going to be designed and built for you. If done properly it will hold the title of The Bloodsworn’s Armor, or Erak’s armor, or something like that. Properly attuned to you. As your legend grows, as the demons die on your blade and fists, your armor will strengthen. Because it’s your armor. Same with your weapons.”

“That sounds overpowered,” Pomp said for Erak.

“Because it is. Think of it like this though. Who has the strength to forge their own legends? Maybe that psychotic princess or your Queen. Otherwise I couldn’t imagine any here who can stand out so much to craft a legend around yourself. Then there’s the crafting aspect of it, I’ll need you involved in the process.”

“How so?” Pomp asked.

“Your Essence will be needed. As I forge the armor, you’ll pour your strength in too.”

“Erak has almost no Essence. What he does is funneled to me,” Pomp explained. Snowbeard stopped his lecture and turned to look at Erak, bushy eyebrows rising up.

“You're doing all of this without Essence? Just your pure strength?”

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Erak just nodded and the dwarf shook his head in disgust. He turned and worked his way toward the tomes and pulled them open and started to leaf through the pages. Snowbeard hummed to himself and kept reading as he got close to the end.

“Dragon, you are bound to him? I know you can use Essence,” Snowbeard said.

“That is correct. I’m a repository of his excess Essence and I can cast without being debilitated with pain.”

“You are close enough to him that it will count. Might have a few interesting additions to the armor. I need you here early tomorrow morning to begin working on this. My apprentice and I will begin the preparation. Rest and be prepared for a long day.” With that, Snowbeard waved the duo away and Erak left the forge without a backward glance. That the dwarf hadn’t brought up his sword was a bit of a concern, but he could deal with that later.

The halls of the upper level were filled with life and energy. Humans and dwarves and even a few elves all moved around with a frantic air. More and more of the Imperial soldiers he saw were now dressed in half armor, breastplates and thigh protections with steel caps. Nothing special or that stood out, but much better than the riot armor they had been using.

Sidearms had been replaced with short swords or daggers and even casts had started to be replaced with more classic weaponry. Here and there he saw different varieties of casters, hulking monstrosities rather than the sleek changed weapons.

Caster Cannon

Uncommon

When destruction is needed, this upgraded version of the caster leaves nothing behind as it lays waste to everything in front of it. High Essence requirement

Long Caster

Uncommon

Concentrating Essence into a narrow blast, it stretches the range of the traditional Caster. They’re dead before they know you’re nearby.

“It seems that some new weapons have been found. We could have used some of those earlier,” Pomp said. The dragon had curled up and across his shoulders, a cold weight that Erak appreciated in the humid tunnels.

“They’re still crutches. Run out of Essence and they’ll be left weaponless.”

“They’re all carrying swords or daggers. They’re soldiers not warriors. They’ll fight in tight formations and not singular combat like we do. Their weapons will be perfectly fine,” Pomp said. Erak grunted as they kept walking toward their room.

Their room was small and simple, but it was close to Victoria. The Queen and her personal guard had taken an entire section of the dwarven hall. All Northern warriors, not a single Imperial around including the multitude of heirs. Glacier speak was similar to Imperial, they had evolved from the same root language, but it was comforting to hear the familiar smooth, flowing, language filled with sounds and life. Imperial always felt like it landed flat and lifeless.

“Lord Bloodsworn, Queen Victoria is in a meeting with some of her aides, but she wished to see you once she is done,” one of the Glacies guards said. The woman was tall and fit and wore a cool blue uniform that was speckled with white that would have blended in perfectly in the arctic fields.

“I await her,” Erak signed as he opened the door to his room and stepped in. he had hardly had the time to clean himself of blood and sweat before he had met with Snowbeard and even his endurance was near its limit. He hoped that Victoria didn’t have much to speak of.

“You know she’ll want a full recap of the mission, Erak,” Pomp said as he leapt off of his shoulder and floated across the room to land in the nest of torn up bedding and the dragon curled in on himself with his snout pointed up. Erak let himself flop onto his bed, knees hanging off the end, and let himself relax for a minute. He had pushed himself too hard too fast and his still recovering body protested the abuse he had put himself through.

His eyes flickered for a moment, closing and opening lethargically. A breath filled his chest, slow and steady, and then he was asleep before he could stop himself.