The Albino

Benjamin woke up the next morning, wondering if the previous night had been a dream. It was a welcome respite from the constant nightmares of late. He groaned, sitting up slowly and stumbling toward a small wash bucket of relatively clean water sitting on a sorry replacement for a sink. Something clinked under his foot, pausing his listless lumber. He lifted his foot to find the key to his room, shifted from a perfect charred outline on the floor. Ben slowly knelt to pick it up, “So, not a dream.” He murmured to himself, shivering slightly at the implication. He washed his face and armpits quickly; it would have to do for the time being. He silently hoped there was a river or a stream nearby as he was rapidly becoming unable to stand his own smell. He was just finishing up when a loud thumping echoed three times, “Benjamin! Do you live, pink skin!”

“I’m awake,” Ben bawled back unlocking and opening the door to see Jukha’s raised eyebrow.

The Orc chuckled, “We can clean the road off us later, Lets go. I have some iron arrowheads to replace, and you need a dagger, and coin.” He turned with a wave of the hand, “Come, The ForgeMaster lost his latest apprentice. Maybe you will have luck there.”

“Is that like a blacksmith? I’ve never done any work remotely similar to that.” Ben asked as they stepped down the stairs into the ground of the Inn. It was early, and thankfully most of the peoples Benjamin had seen last night were not present. It did not stop shadows from echoing in his face as they departed.

Jukha seemed to either not notice or choose to push Benjamin from his thoughts, “You said that your academy training was in making machines and other things right?”

“Well, Yes; after a fashion.” Benjamin stated. “Its, complicated.”

“Well, it cant hurt to see.” Jukha sighed, walking along side Benjamin for several more paces, “You’re, not a fan of slavery, are you. I’ve seen it in your face; ‘was worried I would have to keep you from tryin’ to kill someone last night.”

“I…” Benjamin hesitated, worried about how much of his earth he would say before becoming seen as a loon, or worse. “Where I come from, most places will throw you in prison for trying to own another person. My great great grandfathers fought a war over it. They left their home in disgust to fight against their own kin, because of slavery.”

“Ah… I see. Unfortunately, the Realm is unwilling to ban slavery. Too much of the more… civilized… provinces would rise up if they did. You saw those girls, the thin ones.” Jukha paused.

Ben immediately tensed up, “I did. I know what they were for...” He growled.

“Be warned Benjamin.” Jukha stated in a low voice, “There is much history behind their bondage. Their kind chose the wrong side in a war, generations gone. It is the reason that few of their people live outside of chains.” Benjamin speared Jukha with a viscous gaze, but the Orc continued, “I don’t like it, I think they have been punished enough; but most peoples you will meet do not share this view. Tread carefully, pink skin. Most of the Realm does not see them as a people. And the rest, they are usually paying of a debt, being punished for a crime, or were born into it. In that way, anyone can end up a slave.”

Benjamin understood the tone of Jukha’s statement. He was but one man. Benjamin needed to learn more. ‘Dam Sol, I need to know more about this Realm, This world. This conflict Jukha talks about.. dammit!! I know nothing!’ Benjamin cursed himself inwardly for not pressing his guardian angel, the fucking Sun if she were to be believed, about the details of this place. The smell of smoke, oil, and hot metal broke Ben from his brooding. The two of them stepped into a dark shop from which the odors were emanating.

Yet a new language bawled and growled from the back, and a man from the same race as the ones holding the slave girls rounded the corner in a full-on tirade that Benjamin could not understand. Anger flared for a moment in Ben’s chest, but he crushed it soundly. The blacksmith was the same race, but a different man altogether. Ben chose to keep his eyes open.

“Qort! You wound me! I brought you a new apprentice!” Jukha smiled widely, slapping Benjamin firmly enough between the shoulder blades to force him to take a step forward.

“Aye, did ye?” The Blacksmith spoke back in Orcish, eyeing Benjamin, “Ye don’ look’ike much. Y’ever swung’a Hammer, boy?”

“A hammer yes,” Benjamin started, “For blacksmithing? Never” he finished, remembering this world’s sensitivity to lies.

The Blacksmith walked closer, Stroking the strange wriggling beard before snatching up Benjamin’s right hand and turning it over in his rough fingers. “Aye, You’ll bleed fer’ta first week’or so.” He reached up, and grabbed Ben by the shoulders, almost inspecting him for signs of strength. “but, Ye’ll do. a silver’a month, room and board provided. Ye’ll be up’at ta’sun, n’down well after it sleeps. What say’yee.”

Benjamin glanced over the Jukha, who only shrugged, “It’s a pretty fair deal for unskilled labor.” Benjamin was about to voice his concerns, but something caught his attention. Looking across the blacksmith shop he saw various metal pieces strewn about, but that was not what Ben noticed. He felt oddly drawn to this place. He stared into the fire roaring in the Forge, almost singing to him… “I… I’ll do it.” The words fell out of his mouth before Benjamin could think to stop them.

“Good! Now, albino, wha’do Ah Call’yee.” The Forgemaster smiled broadly enough for Ben to see his dull yellow teeth from under his strange living hair of a beard. Ben raised an eyebrow at ‘albino’ and The Qort only laughed a rolling thunderous laugh, “Ah Know an Albino’n I see’on. Don’worry boy, It matt’rs not to me. Just that yee’can work.”

“Benjamin, my name is Benjamin. Just call me Ben.” Ben responded with bemusement. He wasn’t going to argue what he was when, at his core, he truly had no idea. He felt human, he looked human… but it appeared that Human’s weren’t a thing here, so Albino Orc it was. “I don’t really have any belongings. I can start when you need me to.”

“Drive! I like’ee. I’ll-ve fresh beddin’ fer yee by the evenin’. Go ahead’n start wit’tha Broom.” Qort waved to the rudimentary broom in the corner. Benjamin suppressed a sigh, having guessed just where he was going to start.

“On it, boss” Benjamin responded, crestfallen. Jukha and Qort shifted to Qort’s native language as Ben began where every bottom level employee begins, sweeping the floors.

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The first week was indeed as Qort advertised. Benjamin was the blacksmiths apprentice in the lowliest of definitions. The heavy work, shovelling coal, working the billows, moving heavy armfuls of scale out back as well as fresh metal in took its tole and scabs turned to calluses by the second week. Benjamin could feel his bones creak and his muscles ache as he worked, but the pain was ignored. He watched Qort work with fascination and welcome distraction. Benjamin had learned the name of a new people. His employer was Durranis, or Durr’s (Dure’s) in short, and was indeed the same race as those he saw in the Inn upon his arrival.

Qort had explained that His people tended to either be high level forge masters, or slavers. He cared not one way or the other regarding slavery, and he assumed that anyone who found themselves a slave was simply either unlucky or deserving. Qort also put name to the Realm they resided in. Orcish race was apparently split into two casts. Jukha was apparently part of the cast known as ‘Orgose’ whom made up the majority of the Orc population. This caste had a manner of honorable vocations; Scholars, Alchemists, Miners, Litigants, teamsters, Textile masters, cobblers, and the like. The second Orc cast were the called “Octorese”. They tended to be much taller and stronger than the Orgose, and they had only one of two vocations, soldiers, and nobility. They ruled this Realm, the Octorallus Principality, with what Qort described as a harsh but fair hand.

The Octorallus Principality was one of several kingdoms Scattered loosely about the “singular” landmass ringed in islands. Principality territory extended as far inland as the FeralWood. There were technically borders, according to Qort; but most borderland was largely lawless and largely ignored. The ocean coastline created a natural eastern boundary, and it was dotted with Islands that the Principality nominally claimed if they were inside their northern and southern boundaries. When Benjamin asked what lies beyond the Islands, the answer was simple. “Aye, there’s only Tha’Edge. N’body com’s Back Frum’it.” That had been the end of it in Qort’s mind, but Benjamin was giving a gift of understanding just where this world stood in their development.

Benjamin swept the floors until the fourth week. The first day of the fourth week, Benjamin finished working the forge starting bellows, but was asked to stay. Qort began breaking down raw iron ore from his latest delivery, and melting it down into ingot pucks. Benjamin found himself oddly entranced by the process, almost as if the forge called to him. It was a strange feeling, born from deep in his chest that almost urged him to reach for the bellows, or ask about adding charcoal. Benjamin forced himself to follow instructions, watching as Qort withdrew the ingots to cool. The week’s new duties continued until the fifth day. This day Qort retained a pair of glowing pucks, hammering them flat before using a wedge to cut the still glowing metal into pieces. Soon he had a stack that he placed back in the forge.

Benjamin listened to Qort, barely able to pay attention through the distractions of the forge, but he assisted as the Durr hammered out a crude knife, a bit longer than a skinning knife, but not quite a short sword. It had a broad flat single edged blade that would have most closely resembled a drop point on Earth. The blade had a thick spine with a flat that was a bit widely angled. The edge, however, appeared serviceable. Benjamin watched as Qort worked the metal over, before dropping it into an oil bath to quench. The forgemaster slipped a simple small cross guard from his pile of pre forged parts and slipped it over the tang. Qort next selecting a set of wood grip scales, using pair of what Benjamin assumed were brass dowels to serve as anchors. Qort hammered the scales in place before offering the blade to Benjamin. “Finish’t” the Durr said simply, but continued upon seeing the confusion of Benjamin’s face, “This’s ta see where’yee fall. N’where Aye need’a start teechin’ yee propper.” Quort stated. “Aye’ll be at’tee Inn. Don’ burn down Mee shop”

With that, a stupefied Benjamin was left alone in the Forge, and the Durr Forgemaster departed for the Pub at the bottom of the Inn. Benjamin just stared at the three quarters finished knife. Its wooden handles were ugly square things suck in place by protruding brass dowels. “Finish it, he says. How the fuck do I do..” *The forest, Son of Terra* Benjamin reeled around to find himself alone, but not. His eyes fell to the still smoldering forge, and that indescribable feeling returned. It made little since, but he felt himself pulled toward the forge. His mind began to flash through all of his old metal structures and materials classes and the world around him began to blurr. The only thing in clear focus was the knife in his hand, and materials science information flying into his mind as if delivered by a fiber optic cable. He found himself focusing on the blade, removing the wood and fittings. Concepts flowed, Oxygen, Temperature, carbon… Benjamin watched in both horror and fascination as the metal blade began glowing red hot in his hands. Thermal barrier, Kevlar, airgap separation techniques raced through his mind as the molten metal rose from his finger tips as Benjamin found himself refocusing on his mental image of steel. He knew steel, inside and out. He had worked with it many times during his college courses. This was… different… and Benjamins began sweating as the blade heated up. Heat: 1700C…. add oxygen and cabron… agitate… separate… cool… The moment Benjamin thought of the cooling process the glow began to fade from the metal. Soon it touched back down in his hand only slightly warm. He reached for the wood and brass just to find them still in his other hand. They fitted back on perfectly and Benjamin grabbed a file. His fingers were shaking violently, both terrified of what was happening and completely unable to stop. He dropped the file, and as he did, a memory of an old “Bowie” knife his dad bought him for his 13th birthday flashed into mind. Benjamin shook his head to clear it, looking back toward his task at hand to see the blade hammer itself out as if by invisible stikes. The shape of a bowie knife, complete with furniture, settled onto the table next to Banjamin… and he passed out.

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“Benjamin. Oi! Pink’skin,” Benjamin opened groggy eyes, looking up at the disturbingly wriggling beard of Qort, accompanied by a not-so-subtle smell of ale, “What’ee doin on’a floor o mee Forge.”

“I, Uh.. I passed out..” Benjamin mumbled, slowly rising, “I think.. I need to rest.” His head was spinning, and his brain hurt in more places than he knew it could. “I feel, ill.”

“Hmm” grumbled the forgemaster, “Git, yee left a mess. It best’bee cleaned’up by mornin’.” Benjamin only nodded weakly, stumbling into his room before face planting into his bed. He was snoring before he landed.

Qort swore at the mess, but noticed a completed knife lay on the table. He frowned as he approached it. It was not the knife he had given the Albino to finish. It had the same grips, the same dowel material and color. Its handle scales were simply carved but serviceable. It wore the same crossguard, but that cross guard was deburred and semi polished. The blade was a strange shape with its tipped turned up and a small chunk out of its spine. It made for an intimidating sillouette, and Qort picked it up. He was mad at the boy for using his furnace, but could not punish him. His test had been too vague, but this was not the blade of a first timer.. The scales were on properly, and the Cross guard was tight. The balance seemed to be slightly different, and the metal seemed… off… Qort casually reached over to his files, pulling one he usually used to test incoming ore with. He slipped the file over the spine with practiced ease, but froze at the sound. The blade… rang.. it was a small thing, heavily muffled by his own grip on it, but it sounded different from an iron knife, and Qort looked at his file to find its teeth almost completely flattened. This knife his apprentice essentially just reforged, had ruined one of his expensively strong files, and there was no damage to it at all. Qort set the fill down, placing knife next to it with shaking fingers, and turned to watch the Albino apprentice snore loudly in the other room.

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Benjamin woke with a start, the sun was coming into his window, and that meant he was very late. He stood up quickly realizing he was still wearing his work clothes from the night before and there was no time to change. As he stumbled out to the forge, Benjamin saw Qort, sitting in a chair with unfocused eyes, Idly tapping the knife on an anvil. The blade was held with deftly loose fingers, allowing the metal to ring with each tap. “Benjamin, please sit. I am in dire need of questions answered, and you will be answering them” Ben stood stunned, Qorts usual heavy accent was completely gone, replace with a polished Orcish that seemed a touch formal for the small nameless village on the edge of the FeralWood.

“I..Ok.” Benjamin mumbled, slowly walking to a chair that Qort had placed across from him. Benjamin sat slowly, eyeing the knife in Qorts hands as the flood of last nights memories assailed him.

Qort took a long breath looking at the knife now laying on his Iron Anvil. The unhardened hunk of metal showed the dents and dings of a well used unhardened tool. Benjamin had noticed similar damage on Qort’s metal hammers. “Benjamin, My anvil, and its hammers were gifted to me upon my graduation of the Royal Academy for Iron Works. They are the hardest forms of their material that is not to brittle for their purpose.” He picked up the knife, “This has destroyed every file I have taken to it.. and dented both my anvil, and one of my hammers with a single strike. I will have to reforge the hammer. Tell me truthfully, this is not the same blade I gave you to finish.”

“It is.” Benjamin started with, “Or at least, it started as that knife.”

“Do not lie to me son. It took me 5 times as long with my finest wet stones to sharpen this blade.” Qort state sharply.

Benjamin took a deep breath, “I.. don’t know how to explain it to you, at least not properly… I sear to you that it is the truth.”

Qort growled a humm, standing to pace across his smithery. His eyes fell to the basket on his counter that held some of his spare or undersized ingots. “Show me.” He ordered, taking three of them out, handing them to Benjamin who just looked at them. “Show… Me…” Qort’s voice was deadly serious as he picked up one of his hammers, holding it at his side. Ice cold spikes of fear arced their way down Benjamin’s spine, Jukha’s words on the seriousness of falsehoods ringing in his ears

.

“I… OK..” Benjamin relented, slowly standing to take the offered pieces of metal and slowly stepped toward the forge. He had no idea what he was doing, and his mind started racing. Qort had started the forge this morning and it sat roaring in front of him as Benjamin stared at the metal in his hands, panicking.

*The Forest, Son of Terra* Benjamin heard it and spun to Qort in shock, only to see the Durr’s eyebrow quirk in a very ‘well, I’m waiting’ expression. Benjamin realized that the forgemaster had not heard the same voice. *The Forest* that ethereal voice rang in Benjamins head as he turned back to the forge. His mind seemed to be guided back to that night in the Inn, and he smiled as the familiar pull from the previous night returned.