Unforged

Chapter 18: Leaving Home

Tristan

Tristan blinked and found himself back in his father’s forge. On the anvil before him was the sword that had ushered him into tier 2. The sword that had pushed his skills to their limits and beyond. He gazed at it with pride, and he realized that he could finally, for the first time in his life, use [Identify] and get a full item description. What item could ever be more fitting for a first use?

[Hope’s Aspiration (uncommon)]: [Brightshield], Soulbound

A quality sword forged from patterned steel by a fledgling blacksmith, then further enhanced by integrating a fading talisman from a fallen Legend.

It was interesting to see all the information that a “full” [Identify] provided. Initially, it looked similar to the displays he’d been seeing with Soulbound items. Though now there was also the extra description beneath, which called him a “fledgling blacksmith.” He felt he’d passed that level with the creation of a second uncommon item in tier 1. Didn’t that suggest he was getting markedly better? Or maybe the item only upgraded because of the... “fading” talisman, as the description called it.

He paused when he realized that this was the first time one of his crafts had been given a real name. When his eyes caught the first property, the word right before Soulbound, his mouth went dry. There’s no way the name is a coincidence.

He had long ago processed what the talisman had cost both him and the realm. Still, the typical pride he’d expect from such a creation was tinged with sadness when he expanded the property.

[Brightshield] (Unique) Gain a temporary shield that negates the next source of damage that would otherwise harm the user. While the skill or shield is active, the user glows with dim white light. The shield cannot be activated again until the light has been replenished.

That seemed incredibly strong! The ability to completely ignore a powerful attack seemed broken. He’d never seen a unique property before, but it was truly no wonder why this one was. He immediately started thinking about the ability’s undefined parts. How long could the shield go unused before it went away on its own? What would happen if it wasn’t used after being activated? How exactly was he supposed to “replenish” the light of the shield? Too many questions, and there didn’t seem to be any way to test anything without using the ability, which he didn’t especially want to do on a whim without knowing how to recharge it.

All of those concerns could wait for later. For now, he hefted the sword, which was nearly as tall as he was. It felt well balanced with a one-handed grip, though the two-handed grip felt slightly more natural. It was clear his measurements had been spot on. His “fledgling” technique had certainly maintained that little bit of skill. He swung the blade and couldn’t believe how light it felt, how easily it moved, how the air itself fled away from the edge.

Yet when he pulled it back down to the anvil and examined it with his tier 2 eyes, Tristan saw... opportunities. Places where even now he could make improvements. For starters, the cutting edge was begging for his [Sharpen Blade] skill. Beyond that, he thought a slight tweaking of the crossguard around the talisman might strengthen the defensive properties and protect his hands a bit better. He kept mentally picking at the sword, considering new ideas for improvements the longer he looked, until a throat cleared behind him.

“You finished it,” his father said, with warmth filling every syllable that radiated from his proud smile.

“And hit tier 2,” Tristan added. He held the sword up to his eyes. “Yeah, it’s pretty good for a tier 1 blade, I think. But I kind of want to improve it. I was thinking of--"

His father’s deep chuckle cut him off. “That’s the curse of the crafter, son. We learn and improve the more we create, so even our ‘newest and best’ are already lacking the moment they’re done. The moment we settle is the moment we stagnate.”

“I’ll never let that happen,” Tristan said even as he cataloged even the slightest imperfections in his blade.

“I know you won’t,” his father said, chuckling again as he stood beside his son. “Yet another reason to always be proud of you.”

They stood quietly like that for a while, until Tristan handed the sword to his father. Even in the wider man’s hands it seemed massive. He watched his father go through many of the same tests and motions he himself had. As his father’s smile grew, so did Tristan’s, mirroring the older smith’s pride.

“Now you’ve made two properties I’ve never heard of before,” his father said with a sigh. “At least this one I can properly examine for a definition.” And then he whistled. “Gods among us, it’s unique! That’s a boss-fighting ability if I’ve ever seen one!”

Tristan reached out slowly and tapped the talisman in the center of his crossguard. “I didn’t do it on my own. There’s no way I could have without..." He left the rest unsaid.

His father’s hand once again found his shoulder. “We take what we can, and we do our best with it, son. You should be proud of what you’ve done here.”

Tristan’s beamed at the recognition. “I am.”

“Have you made the sheath for it yet?”

“I sized it up about a week ago, when I was pretty sure the sword’s size would stay the same.” That comment got a strange look from his father, to which Tristan merely shrugged. “My Core works differently, as you’ll recall. But I haven’t fitted it since I made it. The moment I finished the sword, I was pulled... elsewhere.”

His father nodded. “Well, make sure the sheath fitting properly is your next task.”

“I definitely planned to do it, but why should it be next?” Tristan asked curiously.

“It is if you’re going to travel with it safely! Like when you set out in a few days.”

Tristan’s heartbeat quickened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you told me you were looking to leave soon after tiering up, right? And your mother was so worried about the roads, with all the banditry and monsters getting worse out there. I figured, since I’ve a pretty good gauge of your experience and growth, you were about to hit that mark. Though once again you broke even my expectations. I didn’t have you pegged for tier 2 until next week, even with your ridiculous pace! I half expect you’ve broken some sort of record, or--"

“I did get an achievement for it actually,” Tristan said, grinning broadly, “For hitting tier 2 in under a year.”

His father chuckled. “A year? By the gods, you did it in half that time.”

Tristan thought back for a moment, even counting a bit with his fingers, before saying, “Actually, it only took me about 16 weeks.”

That reply made his father chuckle and nodded. “Yes, I suppose that sounds right. Faster than I ever went.”

Tristan smiled again at the continued praise. “The reward is amazing too. It gives 2% movement speed.”

His father shook his head in disbelief. “That’s hard to come by, especially this early on. I think it took me all the way until level 24 before I saw my first piece of gear with that property. It wasn’t even on boots, like you’d think, but a bloody necklace! I absolutely hated having to replace it, but you know how gear comes and goes. Or you’ll soon know...”

“Dad,” Tristan laughed, a touch exasperated. “I appreciate all that, but it feels like you’re telling me I need to be ready to travel so soon. What am I missing?”

“Well, I figured I could do something for you. Use the Hammerson name a bit, you know? It wasn’t quite as easy as I’d thought, and I needed to pull a few strings.” He laughed lightheartedly. “But I may have gotten you another present for reaching tier 2. It’s something I’m pretty sure you haven’t considered yet.”

Tristan’s mind raced back over all the conversations he’d had with his family of late, especially about his plans for what he’d do after tiering up. Excitedly, he asked, “Dad, what exactly did you do?”

The older armorsmith clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “You remember, of course, that I arranged for you to be Jamal’s student. Well, I reckoned that since he lived all the way in the Embrace’s domain, that’s going to be a long trip for even a disciplined kid such as yourself. Probably end up being a month or two if you’re forced to go on foot, which is just too long a time for you not to be near a forge. And your mother would doubtless be worrying over whether you’d arrived or not the whole time. To give everyone peace of mind, I got you a ride that guarantees safe passage almost all the way to your destination.”

Tristan crushed the man in as strong a hug as he could muster. “Thanks dad,” he said, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Well, it was mostly your mother’s idea,” he admitted.

The help with his trip was incredible. His father rarely showed affection or gave such direct support, but when he did, it always had a big impact. Even if he showed it differently, his father cared every bit as much as his mother. “So what kind of ‘safe passage’ should I expect?”

His father’s smile tightened slightly. “It won’t take you all the way, but it’s a carriage, so at least you’ll be comfortable. If you can tolerate the company.”

“That sounds great, Dad. Though, what company do you mean?” Tristan eyed his father. “Who else is going?” Tristan asked,

His father turned slightly away. “Unfortunately, there was only one caravan scheduled to go that way this entire fortnight.” He exhaled slowly. “And it’s for Aaric Longbloom.”

Tristan groaned.

“But I’ve had assurances that his caravan, at least, will be absolutely top tier. You know, speedy and well protected. While he’ll end up dropping you off just inside the Embrace’s domain, you should get there in only a couple weeks, tops. I hate to admit it, but sometimes that much money is darn useful."

Tristan’s fingers tightened around the grip of his new sword as he recalled his last interaction with Aaric, back at the training grounds. I kind of want a rematch, to see how my sword stacks up against all the gear he’s bought. He sighed and shook that thought away, only for it to be replaced by something worse.

I’m going to have to spend two weeks in a carriage with bloody Aaric Longbloom. Gods, help me.

- - - - -

Somehow the carriage was even more immaculate than Tristan had imagined. It looked to be constructed of high-tier wood and covered with so many flourishes they nearly doubled the surface area. It was large enough to seat twelve people comfortably with its four rows of seats. When he’d asked Aaric how many would be traveling with them, he’d been told, “It was supposed to just be the three of us, but now it’s four. It’s like I’ve become a courier service.”

Tristan just smiled the rudeness away and thanked Aaric as he used [Identify] on him.

[Aaric Longbloom, Human, level 10]

{{Ice Prodigy}}

Tristan had managed to close the level gap between them entirely. He felt like it was practically an achievement on its own, even if it came without a notification. I might not be wearing a prodigy title, but that won’t stop me from pushing past him any way I can.

No doubt that also explained Aaric’s persistent frown, and his complete lack of willingness to communicate after that first time. There had been no introductions with the other members of the group. In fact, there was scarcely an interaction between any of them and Tristan at all.

Aaric had occupied the rear half of the carriage, being sprawled across the rearmost seats while periodically pulling books from the library that was the next row up. The only person he ever seemingly interacted with was in the row behind Tristan.

[?, Human, level ?]

The man had stared at Tristan as soon as he’d used [Identify], clearly aware of the skill’s use. His reaction had been so quick, there could have been no other cause, which Tristan found unsettling. Considering further, Tristan thought he’d seen the man before at the training grounds. Since he had nothing else to call the man, Tristan labeled the man as “the trainer” in his mind and moved on.

The other person sharing a row with the trainer was some sort of personal attendant for Aaric. Luckily, Tristan had overheard Aaric call him “Jack” shortly after getting to the carriage, so his [Identify] at least gave Tristan that much.

[Jack, Elf, level ?]

The elf firmly refused to acknowledge Tristan’s presence at all the first day, other than to correct Tristan’s “gross mispronunciation,” as he put it. “My name is ‘Jah-kuh.’”

Tristan resolved to never trust Aaric’s pronunciations again.

Prior to departure, while loading Aaric’s baggage into the magical storage compartment on top of the carriage, the elf had turned up his nose with a scowl as Tristan approached. Tristan decided to then load both his bags himself.

Needless to say, leaving home was not everything Tristan had envisioned.

It quickly became apparent that no one else in the carriage was interested in talking. Tristan tried a couple different times to spark conversation, but he never got a response. Their eyes still flicked occasionally at things that Tristan couldn’t see, suggesting they were communicating via private or party chat. The fact that none of them ever spoke aloud only seemed to make that even more likely.

That had led Tristan to trying to talk to the driver, a pudgy dwarf man who sat in a slightly elevated seat on the other side of a little curtain, just outside the front of the carriage. But the dwarf spoke with such a thick lilt that every phrase basically required untangling. At times Tristan wasn’t even sure they were speaking the same language. He kept it up a little while, but it was too mentally exhausting to pursue for long. Besides, the dwarf seemed mostly interested in the astral that was pulling them along.

The astral was a huge spotted cat, resembling an oversized leopard, whose shoulders were already taller than Tristan--and it was easily twice that in length. Its spots were wildly different sizes, spanning all the colors of the rainbow, with some even layered on top of each other. Tristan thought the way the spots blurred as the astral raced down the road, effortlessly weaving around obstacles, was frankly beautiful.

Tristan had heard only a little bit about astrals and had thought they were remarkably intelligent creatures. He’d heard they had to be summoned, and then possibly maintained, or taken care of? He wasn’t sure. He’d always assumed that the people who used them, the astralists, were prized and respected. Yet no one else in the carriage seemed the least bit interested in the dwarf or his magnificent astral, even as they bounded across more ground with each stride than the fastest horse Tristan had ever seen. Tristan couldn’t help but wonder if Pristine might have matched its speed.

The first hour was by far the most intense. The roads just outside of Woodsedge had been crawling with bandits, which the driver had basically plowed right through. They’d caused a little bit of a light show at first, with arrows, spells, and skills striking the nearly invisible wall of force surrounding the carriage. The shimmering had caught Tristan’s attention, so he had pushed back a curtain to watch out the window in amazement. Twice he saw arrows that should have come straight through to him, but they were stopped quite forcibly by the barrier in a flash of lights. The others inside must have either not noticed or cared. Perhaps they thought the bumpiness of the ride was nothing more than bumpy road stones.

Once it seemed like they were clear of the attackers, Tristan spent the rest of that first hour testing the invisible barrier. Pushing open his window, he could see the realm rolling by just beyond the edge of the road. He ran his fingers over the magical non-surface of the barrier. He found it fascinating because he couldn’t figure out why it could stop attacks but let his fingers through. That was, until he tried to force them aggressively, and found himself stopped. If he had any aggressive intent, he couldn't push through, no matter how lightly he pressed. Only when he moved calmly could he feel the wind on his fingertips. He was impressed by the quality of enchantments the Longblooms could afford, as caring about intent and not just force seemed much more complicated than a normal barrier.

He enjoyed watching the colors shift around the movement of his fingers, and considering the qualities of the enchantment. How was it made, how often must it be maintained, and what were the limits of its protection? Luckily, he found himself with lots of time and nothing better to do than unravel the barrier’s mysteries.

Until the trainer cleared his throat right behind him. “You’ve had enough fun with the window. Curiosity is great when it doesn’t invite danger. Close the curtains. We’re getting closer to our destination and don’t want to needlessly advertise our presence.”

From the rearmost row, Aaric scoffed and rolled his eyes before diving back into his books.

Tristan did as he was told. Without the tapestry of trees and farms and hills to occupy his mind, he decided to instead return to studying his sword. It was the only weapon he’d kept on him, unless he counted the rings he’d failed to make properly, which were spiky enough that they could only be used as caltrops. The sheath had fit perfectly, thank the gods, so he’d gotten no pushback from bringing the huge object into the carriage with him. He knew he’d been promised safe passage, but he wasn’t foolish enough to travel any distance unarmed. Not even if the blade was just in storage.

Tristan managed to lose himself in its patterned steel. He ran a small whetstone along the blade, using his newest [Sharpen Blade] skill and enjoying the rhythmic rasping. He completely tuned out everything around him.

The carriage finally stopped some time later. Looking out the window, Tristan saw the sun beginning to slide below the horizon. Their first day of traveling was coming to a close. The driver barely mumbled some non-words as he hopped down from his perch and disappeared into a small, standalone building. A sign out front simply read, “Jill’s.”

“We've scheduled an hour for dinner,” the trainer said, the first person to speak to Tristan in hours.

Aaric’s attendant silently held up a hand as Tristan started to slide out of his seat, until both Aaric and the trainer had exited the carriage.

Tristan shook his head, but as he stepped down he hid his amusement behind a smile. “Is this place good then? I've never really been this far from home before.”

He found the trainer waiting for him on the ground. “Jill's is the best restaurant for days in any direction, and it’s not even pricey. Since it’s probably the last taste of familiar cooking you'll find as we head into the Embrace's domain, let me give you some advice: eat your fill, if you can afford to. Do not try to associate with Master Longbloom once we enter, or honestly any of us for that matter; do not be late back to the carriage. We’ve scheduled this stop for one hour, so watch the light. If you're not back in the carriage by sundown, it will leave you behind. Do you understand?”

Tristan had barely nodded before the man blurred around the edges and vanished, presumably into the restaurant.

That guy is intense, Tristan thought. But then he considered what the man had said. And he gulped. He was on his own for the first time in his life.

Making sure his sword was strapped firmly to his back, Tristan walked into Jill’s.