Bloodsworn

Chapter 2.26 Oaths

26.

Sparks leapt across the air as Snowbeard’s hammer struck red hot iron. His apprentices had collapsed hours earlier as the heat and the exertion had driven them to the ground in exhaustion. The old dwarf was pale faced with a sheen of sweat, deep bags under his eyes, but his hammer struck true with every blow.

Forge Master lvl. 26

The levels had crept up as the hours drifted by as the armor was shaped. Snowbeard was a dwarf possessed, his strength and endurance enhanced by the drive to finish his armor. Erak looked over to where it sat on an armor rack, almost every piece completed. Only the helm remained.

From what Erak could see it looked like Snowbeard was forging a great helm with an open bar eye slit. Red iron glowed with heat, but Erak only needed to glance over at the rest of the completed armor to know what it’d look like. Blue so pale it bordered on white, with streaks of white so pure it looked like virgin snow.

Snowbeard lowered his hammer and exhaled mightily, the strain of the crafting apparent on his lined face. Still, a smile tugged at the corners of his beard, joy apparent beneath the fog of exhaustion as he stepped back to allow Pomp to do his part. The dragon was nearly transparent, what little energy he had collected over the last day hardly enough to suffice.

The temperature dropped by degrees as frost struggled to claim the forge. Metal screamed for a moment before the frost stopped spreading and was instead sucked toward the sitting helm, melting into the now cool piece of armor. Snowbeard grunted and reached over with bare hands, grabbing it and inspecting it with a critical eye.

“I am at the end of my stamina. Tomorrow or the day after, I will forge the blade anew. Dragon bone mixed with colforged iron will be a challenge. One I look forward too once I sleep. For now, your armor is complete.” Snowbeard punctuated this by putting the helm on the armor rack and stepping back, allowing Erak to see it fully completed for the first time.

Joy. That was all he felt as he stared at it. An impervious shell of iron that resemble his homeland. He would paint that iron red and black over the coming days, but underneath that always temporary coat of blood, icy whites and blues would remain. He finally ripped his eyes away from the armor and toward the actual description of it.

Erak the Bloodsworn’s Heavy Ice Armor

Rare

Forged by a Master Smith from materials long lost to myth, this armor is a Unique piece with Growth potential. Currently Rare. Will Grow with the deeds of its owner.

+5 Strength

+5 Durability

Ability: Ice Bulwark. Infused Essence crafts a hearty shield of Ice. Adjustable

“It’s the finest thing I’ve ever crafted,” Snowbeard whispered. The old dwarf ran a finger across the breastplate before shaking himself free of the trance that had gripped him. He guffawed and shook his head.

“I’m getting old. Need to sleep and then the blade.” Snowbeard left the forge for his quarter’s, leaving his two apprentices slumped in the corner snoring.

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“Erak. We should invest some more levels into your Essence abilities. If we rest between fights I am useful, but this is currently untenable. I will be nearly useless to you for a day or three until I have gathered more Essence,” Pomp said. The, now, ephemeral dragon floated across the forge and entered Erak’s chest with a calming chill.

“The next three levels I will invest in you.” Erak felt the pleased rumble of the dragon in his chest. The dragon’s abilities, especially its ice breath, gave excellent crowd control and allowed Erak to focus down on his targets while the rest slowly worked their way toward him.

Erak gathered the armor and left the forge, bag jangling on his back, as he headed toward his quarters. He still needed a good arming jacket, the last set had been rubbing him raw through the thin clothes he had worn underneath it. One of Queen Victoria’s retinue would be able to find him what he needed to finish the gear. In the meantime, he wouldn’t allow the suit out of his sight.

Crowds parted for him as he worked toward his quarters, depositing the armor softly on his bed. With a thought, he asked Pomp to guard the armor, which the dragon mentally rolled his eyes at him for. Still, Pomp left Erak’s chest and flopped down on the bed as Erak created a physical form for him, exerting what little Essence he had left over, and the dragon curled into a ball with Erak’s blankets pulled up and around him.

Victoria had taken to holding court in a small hall, listening to people’s petitions, going through logistics, or planning missions. She rarely left the hall and Erak found her personal guards posted against the entrance. Four burly people, three women and a man, who were all wearing ancient ceremonial armor that had been looted from the Palace.

They let him pass without a word or acknowledgement, cold eyes continuously sweeping back and forth for any sign of threat. The inside of the hall was mostly empty, just a few of the Queen’s most trusted courtiers circled around a table with Victoria at the head. Lady Torpin stood next to her and she was the one who noticed Erak first, nudging the queen gently.

Victoria smiled broadly at him but didn’t change what she was doing. Erak walked up look over the mostly human courtier’s heads and down at a map. His eyes scanned it in a moment, quickly deciphered the key, and realized what they were.

Army depots.

“Erak, is your armor done?” Victoria asked. Erak nodded, not bothering to sign to her.

“Good. I have a mission for you. This depot here,” she pointed to an Imperial depot a few days walk away, “we need you to secure it. We sent a team, mostly Imperial soldiers but a few civilians and we’ve lost contact with them.”

“I serve,” Erak signed at her. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s just us, Erak. What do you think?”

“I don’t want to leave your side. Our position is perilous and I don’t trust the Imperials. The depths are not as secure as you would like either. There were beasts down there that were strong.”

“I don’t trust the Imperials either. Sammus is both scared of you and respects you too much to try a coup. His sister is obsessed with her ship and wants to start exploring as soon as possible.”

“The elder sister, Aloria,” Erak signed.

“Yes. She is both ambitious and skilled. Both at arms and at politics in addition to having a company of guardsmen who are loyal to her. We work together for now, but without the Emperor, I fear division.”

“We should head home. Regroup on the ice,” Torpin said and Erak nodded in agreement.

“I swore my own vows. They may be fresh, but I swore them. To defend the Empire and her citizens. Would either of you abandon your oaths?’ Victoria spoke softly, but there was an edge to her words that cut the air. Torpin ducked her head, momentarily abashed, but Victoria stared at Erak.

“My vows are my duty and my duty is my honor,” Erak signed after a moment. Victoria smiled softly at that.

“As are mine. We are locked together then by honor. You to me and me to an Empire without its Emperor. I will not have this discussion again. Am I understood?” Both Erak and Torpin nodded again.

“Good. Now, let’s start planning this operation. Erak, I assume your little group will accompany you?”