Grand Saint Alloy

It would not have been entirely incorrect to say lunch was over, only because Luke was still eating. Everyone else had lost their appetite. Tristan ate the root and it caused a burning sensation in his chest, but it was the least of his concerns.

Grace was bustling back, when she saw Carl she sighed, “Why didn’t you stop him?”

At first Tristan thought that Grace was talking to him, but the Carl had kicked in the face answered, “How was I supposed to know he would go crazy!” Evidentially he was one of the warriors responsible for our protection.

Grace sighed, turning to Tristan, “Sorry, but I think its best that you go home for a few days to let the root do its work.”

“What does it do?” Tristan asked.

“It rejuvenates the lungs, it won’t make like new,” Grace explained, “It cleanses them and shortens the natural time it would take the body to put itself together.”

Tristans eyes widened, “This will heal my lungs?”

Grace shook her head knowing what Tristan meant more than simply healing. He thought it meant he would be renewed, “Sorry, it will help your body to heal the flesh and flush the contaminants in a few days. All of the scarring will remain.”

The mine bulk ordered the root because the dust in the air would damage the workers lungs. It would use air essence to assist in the health in contact with it, making it useless for anything internal aside from the lungs, as most organs weren’t in contact with air essence. That made the root comparatively cheap as far a medicines went, however it would increase the potency of any gaseous drug. Once someone started gaining a resistance to their favorite drug, this root would be the only way to guarantee a high.

Tristan felt disappointed, however he knew that it would mean he would not need crutches for much longer. There were plenty of warriors who had received similar wounds while defending the rim of the caldera from the beasts in the wilderness. While their recovery was measured in months not days, they were still able to function though not as warriors.

“How many days should I stay at home?” Tristan asked, “And what about Luke, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

Luke’s head swiveled around and stared at Tristan. It was creepy, and Tristan was scared of the older boy, but he could not allow someone who saved him to be punished. Carl was still being hauled off by Siren’s team, and Tristan could see a potential future where one of Carl’s friends attempted to get revenge on Luke.

Grace shrugged, “I wish this never happened, normally one of the warriors would have put Carl down, but Luke has no home to go back to, he will have to help out Siren. Thats the problem with the mine, we are the last stop before exile or execution for most people.”

Tristan nodded, Siren would be more than capable of protecting Luke. Luke would probably end up joining the handful of warriors after that demonstration. It would not be hard to focus his aggression on elementals and people like Carl.

After a brief talk with Conni, where Tristan was questioned about what happened and asked to return in three days. That was how long it would take for the root to finish doing its job. Just like Grace, the mine overseer let him know he was not responsible, which confused Tristan, all he had done was get tackled. After that he started on the two hour walk home.

Tristan realized that a two hour walk for most people was about six miles. However on his crutches and stopping to catch his breath it took almost four hours to see the walls of the Forest Caldera. Normally it would be dangerous for a young person to journey alone, however the caldera as a whole was relatively safe. The whole area had been explored and domesticated, and the rim guard stopped the more unwanted creatures from entering.

Slavery was not a trade within the caldera and bandits were extremely rare. Even if Tristan did meet some, he was carrying nothing of value, and a child was not valued high enough to be ransomed. If he was valuable, then he would be accompanied. For all these reasons Tristan made it back safely.

The sun had not set and the gate was still open, and the guard did not bother to stop him. Tristan was a cripple and his clothing was not suited for long journeys, meaning he was a local. While walking through the the city, Tristan started to realize how good he had it compared to everyone else. Most homes were nothing more than single bed versions of the bunk house in the base camp.

Both he and his friends had been in higher class families. The people in the Forest Caldera were not unhappy with their simple lives, the worker caste was the largest by far and most people had learned to make the best of that. The homes were made out of a mud and fiber compound with a thatch roof. After a few minutes, Tristan entered a greener area of the city that marked the more affluent workers and many of the managers. These ones were commonly made of stone or wood, but even then they were still considered large if they exceeded a thousand square feet. His home was near the center in a ring surrounding the chief’s home.

There were a few children playing in the open area between the homes and Tristan contemplated walking towards them. He knew most of them. Harp was there as were the neighbors children. Before he could take a step, they saw him, pointing before leaving. Tristan started to follow, but Harp shook her head before joining them.

Not knowing what that was all about, Tristan walked to his front door and opened the door. Or at least he tried to, the door was locked. He tried knocking, but their was no answer. Yelling achieved the same result, he tried looking through the windows, but no one was home. It was possible both of his parents were at an appointment or meeting with Elder Forest.

Sighing Tristan made up his mind to sit on the front step and wait. It could be a long time before they came back, but they would come back. He leaned back against the wooden door and closed his eyes, the walk here had worn him out and sleeping would make the time go faster.

“Hey, what are you doing to my house?” The nasally voice woke Tristan up.

Blearily he looked around finding a boy not much older than he was standing before him. The boy was standing with his arms crossed, he was heavily muscled for someone of his age and had two of the neighborhood kids flanking him. The only thing that was not average about his looks was the death glare he was giving Tristan.

“What do you mean, I live here,” Tristan asked, confused, when he had looked through the window the furniture was still there. It had only been a day, there was no way the occupants had been evicted and replaced in that time. Not unless the process had started just after the kern ceremony.

The boy’s eyes went from death glare to exited, “Are you Shadow Fist’s son?”

Tristan nodded, not sure why that mattered.

“My dad is a warrior and he says we should always be prepared to fight the silver blooded demons,” The boy said, the two boys with him nodding.

He grabbed Tristan’s tunic and threw him off the porch. The kid had at least a tier two kern, making him significantly stronger than Tristan was. There was no way he could resist the bigger and healthier boy.

“I’m not a demon and my blood is red,” Tristan said, struggling back to his feet.

“Well, then you won’t mind if we prove it?” The boy said.

Tristan very much did care, but it did not seem he would hav much of a say in the matter. The boy kicked Tristan in the gut, sending him back to the ground before kicking him. Tristan was very fortunate that they weren’t adults, as the kicks of thirteen year olds lacked both the strength and the raw mass to cause life threatening injuries. It still hurt and Tristan could only curl up and hope they wouldn’t grab sticks or rocks.

Eventually the short attention span of children and Tristans lack of reaction saved him, he had a bloody nose and was covered in bruises. Fortunately he was otherwise uninjured, his nose was not even broken.

The boy, sighed, “Well, I guess your blood is red. Now stay away from my home, we don’t take kindly to invaders.”

Tristan did not respond. Anything could be taken as an excuse to continue, and he just wanted to leave. Once the bully left Tristan sighed, glad that it was over. However despite everything, what happened next hurt even worse.

A girl around the same age as him with brown hair and a yellow eyes walked up to him, after the boys left, “Hello Tristan.”

Tristan smiled, the girl winced at his bloody teeth, “Hello, Harp.”

“Your parents moved to the middle district,” She paused looking ashamed, “My mom and dad say you are a monster and I shouldn’t spend time with you.”

She handed Tristan a piece of paper with an address on it. Then she ran away, like Tristan really was a monster. His brain flashed to Luke, he really was a monster and people respected him for it. Maybe Luke was not so crazy after all.