Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  It wasn’t his blade.

  “What the hell?” He turned to the other apprentices, who just shrugged.

  One of them said, “When yer workin on them early blades, and ye drop one in the barrel, sometimes it ain’t worth the effort o’ fishin it out.”

  Giving them both the stink-eye, Max grabbed a scrap of leather and set it on the floor next to the barrel. Dropping the blade atop it, he dipped his arm back in to search for his blade.

  Nearly an hour later, Master Oakstone arrived to find Max finally pulling his own blade out of the barrel. He glanced down at the five other blades stacked atop the leather scrap on the floor, then back up to where Max was using a cloth to wipe down his recovered blade.

  “I told ye to forge me a knife, not spend yer day fishin!” he growled at Max.

  Max, already frustrated by the time wasted retrieving his own blade, spun around and growled at the master, baring his fangs. “I wanted my blade back. It’s going to be a good blade!” He grabbed a file off the work bench and ran it along the knife’s spine, then the blade. It skittered cleanly off both edges, not catching on any rough spots. “Fishing was faster than forging a fifth one.”

  Oakstone snatched the half-finished piece from his hand, inspecting it. He checked its balance, looked along its spine for any curves, scratched his thumbnail along its sides, searching for cracks. After a minute or so, he handed it back. “Finish it now, then bring it to me at the mess hall. Ye don’t eat till ye have a finished blade. That includes wrappin the handle!”

  Max just nodded, calming himself back down. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at his master, and had a feeling he’d pay for it later. As Oakstone moved to the other two apprentices and began berating them for whatever failures he perceived, Max got to work. Since this was his first attempt as a novice smith, he wasn’t going to try for a fancy bone or wooden handle. He’d made the tang thick, so that a good leather wrap would suffice as a workable handle.

  This world didn’t have superglue, and in fact he had no version of glue available to him at all. What he had was a long stretch of leather. He used his belt knife to slice a long narrow strip off one side of the leather, then cut a piece off one end as wide as the handle and about six inches long. When he had what he needed, he dipped both pieces in the water barrel, then wrapped the larger piece tightly around the tang. Holding it in place with his left hand, he began to use the narrow strip to secure the leather by wrapping it around in a sort of crossing pattern.

  Three times he messed up the wrap and had to start again. Finally he got it right, and tied off the end with a knot at the base of the handle, tucking it in. He took hold of the handle with his right hand, squeezing it hard and waving the knife around. It felt firm in his grip, no slippage. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional.

  From there he moved to the grinding wheel, where he once again had to sit on a too-short stool and operate the pedal that spun the wheel with his foot while he pressed the blade against the rough stone. He took his time, carefully grinding away any rough spots or imperfections in the metal, putting a slight curve into the end of the blade and sharpening the tip.

  Next he picked up a rough cloth from the bench and rubbed the entire surface as hard as he could, to smooth away any small particles, and put a bit of shine on the blade. Holding the finished product up to the light, he stared at it while his forgemates offered quiet congratulations in the form of a golf clap.

  Copper Knife

  Quality: Common

  Damage: 1-3 cutting; 2-5 stabbing

  You have learned the skill: Blacksmithing!

  With time and proper instruction from the dwarves, you’ve made the most basic of forged cutting tools. It’s not fancy, or attractive, just slightly better than a sharp rock, but it might cut the cheese. Congratulations, you’ve taken the first step toward becoming a blacksmith.

  Continued use of this skill may increase its level and functionality.

  Setting the blade on his anvil, Max cleaned up his work station, putting the knives he’d fished out of the oil barrel along with his first three failures into a scrap bin. He wiped away any oil that had dripped, placed his tools in their spots on the rack, and took a quick look around to make sure everything was in place before taking his knife in hand and heading to the mess hall.

  Rather than getting in line for food, he found his master and approached him at his table, where he was enjoying a thick steak and little red potatoes with gravy. The table went quiet as he approached, and he stood next to the old dwarf. Bowing his head slightly, he offered the blade.

  Oakstone took it, holding it high for the rest of the dwarves to see as he inspected it. None of them seemed particularly impressed, and Max began to feel a little defensive. He knew it was no masterpiece, but on his first day working metal he’d made what he thought was a passable knife.

  Oakstone held the knife in his right hand, then used the fork in his left to stab a potato. He quickly applied the knife blade to the potato, and it cut through easily. “Sharp enough to kill a tater.” He observed as he wiped the blade clean on a napkin, causing a few of the dwarves to grin. Max kept his face neutral.

  Almost too quickly for Max to follow, Oakstone grabbed hold of the end of his neighbor’s beard and used the knife to cut a few whiskers off. The dwarf stammered in surprise, then took a swing at Oakstone, who leaned back and let the blow pass by. “Easy! Easy!” he calmed the angry apprentice as the others roared with laughter.

  “Might do fer shaving, in a pinch.” He smiled at the still angry dwarf, then poured him some ale from a nearby pitcher. The dwarf grumbled, even shot Max a dirty look as if he were somehow responsible, then took a drink.

  “Aye, this be acceptable.” Oakstone looked at Max and gave a slight nod, then held the blade into the air. “First blade!”

  Every dwarf in the mess hall raised a mug and shouted, “First blade!” cheering Max’s accomplishment. Oakstone handed him back the knife, and nodded toward the chow line. “Get yer dinner. Ye earned it.” A notification popped up in front of Max’s eyes.

  Quest Complete: Learn a Profession!

  You have created a simple copper knife that was of sufficient quality to garner the approval of a dwarven master smith. You have earned the rank of Novice in the Blacksmithing profession!

  Reward: 1,000 Exp; 1 gold coin. Reputation gain with the dwarves of Darkholm.

  Max claimed his own plate full of juicy steak, potatoes, gravy, and bread. When he reached the table, the others toasted him again, one of them handing him a mug of ale to join them. He spent a leisurely hour eating and drinking, accepting praise and good-natured criticism from the other dwarves as they passed his blade around.

  The dwarf across from him, was just saying, “Ach! This blade be defective! I can see me reflection in it, but I can’t be this ugly!” when Max felt a tap on his shoulder. The other dwarves had grown quiet, and were staring over Max’s head.

  Turning, he found Thelonia smiling at him, a twinkle in her eye and a bundle wrapped in cloth in her arms. “I brought yer new clothes, as promised. Ye’ll be needin’ to try em on so that I can make any needed adjustments…” She gave him an exaggerated wink that had the other dwarves laughing and raising their mugs again.

  “Aye, lad! Go try them on!” the one holding his blade chuckled and handed it back to him. Max rolled his eyes, getting up to the continued cheers of his new peers. He deposited his empty plate on the counter, escorting Thelonia out the door and down the corridor to his quarters.

  Chapter 10

  Red woke Max again at the fifth bell the next morning. “Get up, mister oh, yeah baby!” She shouted into his ear. Max practically leapt up off the floor, looking around in confusion.

  “What the hell, Red?” He asked. “Why the hostile alarm clock routine?”

  “Your… friend departed shortly after you started snoring. Based on the strenuous level of activity you maintained last night, I thought you might have a hard time waking.”

/>   “Aw, crap.” It hadn’t occurred to Max that Red would be watching his evening with the dwarfess. Thinking back, he couldn’t help but grin to himself despite the awkwardness. “Tell me you didn’t watch all of that.”

  “I’m not sure what you don’t understand about the words ‘I’m always with you’ and ‘soulbound’, but if it makes you feel any better, I did my best to ignore what was going on.”

  Max growled back. “If you’re always with me, why didn’t you warn me about the orc sneaking up trying to kill me the other day?”

  Red floated back away from him a short distance and crossed her arms. “I’m your guide, not your sentry. Besides, how did you not see a seven foot tall two hundred fifty pound orc walking up on you? And he was basically strolling, not sneaking.”

  Max, thinking back to a similar comment from the sergeant about the orc not having to sneak, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, you got me there. But still, why scare me awake? Are you mad at me for something new? Or maybe jealous? Are we going to have an issue every time I get a little… female companionship? Because I’m not about to take some kind of vow of chastity.”

  Red just stared at him for a good long while. “You’re an idiot. Go get a shower and your breakfast before you’re late. You don’t want to miss the chance to create another glorious cheese cutter.” She faded out of sight with her last words.

  Grumbling to himself, mostly so that she could hear, he sorted through the clothes that were now scattered around his room. He’d quickly tried them on the night before, though there had been no need. Thelonia had been very thorough in her measuring, and the clothes fit him like a glove. Until she’d taken them off of him.

  Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d gotten a notification that his reputation had increased with the dwarves of Darkholm again.

  A quick shower, and he was at the mess hall in his new sensible blacksmith clothes. A short-sleeved shirt, thick leather pants, and steel-toed leather boots with thick soles had him looking like the other smiths on the apprentice level. And in his inventory he carried a leather apron that extended all the way to his knees.

  Master Oakstone was waiting for him when he reached his station. “Ye learned a good bit already, and haven’t give’d yer ancestors reason to be ashamed so far. Most younglings take two days or longer to create an acceptable blade. Then they’d have to create ten more before being allowed to move on to iron. But for you, make me three more knives as good or better than yesterday’s. When you’ve done that, we’ll talk about iron.”

  “Thank you, master. I’ll get right on it.” Max suited deed to word as he quickly checked that the furnace was at the proper temperature, then donned his apron and reached for the first copper bar of the day. To his surprise, the old dwarf didn’t depart as he usually did. He remained on his usual stool and watched Max for a while. After his first round of hammering at the copper bar, when he’d returned it to the furnace, Oakstone spoke.

  “Yer auction tonight be the talk o’ the city.”

  Max glanced at him, trying to form a response. When he didn’t speak right away, the old dwarf continued. “Don’t worry. The girl’s father hasn’t blathered yer name. The auction be anonymous. But I know about yer recovery of the legendary sword, and where ye found it. Didn’t take a genius to connect the sword and the scales.”

  Max shrugged, pulling the metal out of the furnace and beginning to work it with the hammer again. “I don’t suppose it really matters who knows it’s me selling them.”

  “If this were a human city, it’d matter. For no other reason than yer safety after claiming a few thousand gold. Ye’d be robbed and maybe dead before ye reached yer home. But none here would dare harm ye, or steal from ye.”

  “That’s good to know, thank you.” Max tried to focus on the metal as he held up his end of the conversation.

  Oakstone seemed to consider carefully before his next words. “Have ye got the scales with ye? Might I… see one of ‘em?”

  Max didn’t answer, not wanting to get into a discussion of how many scales he’d found versus how many were being sold. He simply pulled one out of his inventory and handed it to his mentor, who ran his fingers across its surface almost lovingly.

  “Aye, this brings back memories.” He whispered. The other two apprentices had stopped their work upon spotting the scale, and were crowding in to get a better look.

  “Memories?” Max asked, putting his half-formed blade back into the fire.

  “When I were just a wee one, me granddad crafted a set o’ scale armor fer the old king. It were the last of its kind made here in the city. I sat in his forge day after day, watchin’ him work. It were a wondrous time.”

  “And you plan to bid on the scales tonight, so you can make a set like your grandfather did?”

  “Aye, I’ll be there. Though me clan don’t be as wealthy as most others, this be a matter o’ pride. We be the best at craftin with such materials.”

  Max was at a loss, unsure whether the dwarf was asking him for a special favor, or just reliving old family glory. “Well, I hope you win the auction. It’d be a pleasure to watch you craft something out of these.”

  Oakstone nodded once, handing the scale back to Max. “Right! Get to work, the lot of ye!” he motioned toward the furnace where Max’s blade was once again reaching a workable temperature, and walked off.

  *****

  Max spent the rest of the day making copper knives. It took five tries to make three acceptable blades, but he found ways to improve each one slightly over the last. The final version had a serrated blade, which would enable its user to cut steak, if they were gentle. The soft metal wasn’t up to much hacking and slashing.

  After cleaning up his station, he took the three knives to the mess hall, and just as the evening before, his mentor examined each one and passed them around. Max waited until Oakstone nodded toward the chow line, then went to grab his evening meal. This time it was some kind of fish, lightly battered and served with a squash and a green spinach-like vegetable.

  When he sat at the table with his meal, Oakstone gave him a nod. “You’ll start with iron in the mornin’.”

  Several of the apprentices gave him winks and smiles, asking about his evening of trying on clothes. He simply smiled and made a show of eating his meal with great gusto. The auction was scheduled for just after suppertime, and he realized he had no idea where to go.

  “Master Oakstone, might I walk with you to the auction?”

  “O’ course, boy.” The old dwarf nodded. “As me apprentice, ye can sit with me clan, if ye like. Or there be a seller’s section, where I’m sure a certain dwarfess and her father would be happy to have ya join ‘em.” He actually smiled, as did most of the dwarves who overheard.

  “Ugh. Her father.” Max let his shoulders droop. “He’s going to know about us, I mean about last night, isn’t he?”

  This got everyone at the table chuckling. Oakstone just nodded, his face serious.

  “So… and please forgive me, but I know almost nothing about dwarves and your culture. Is her father going to want my head? Declare some kind of blood feud? Did I commit myself to marriage, or something?”

  The entire table erupted in laughter, and several dwarves raised their mugs to him. He looked around, waiting for someone to answer his questions, but none did. Clearly they were going to make him sweat. So be it.

  The meal finished, several of the apprentices dashed out the door, hoping to arrive at the auction early enough to get good seats. Oakstone led Max at a more sedate pace down several corridors, up one level, and across a bridge before they reached the auction house. It wasn’t a particularly large structure. The lobby was lined on either side with a series of stalls that looked like bank teller stations, though each had a chair in front of it, and a small table. The clerks behind the partitions were seated as well. Max noted that several of them were what he guessed to be gnomes.

  The back of the main lobby featured a set of double doors, which led d
own a short hallway with offices on either side. Beyond the offices it opened into a small auditorium with rows of benches in an expanding arc radiating out from a stage. Standing at the top of the rise, Oakstone pointed to his left. “Me clan’s section be over there, nearest the wall.” He pointed downward to a section that was front and center to the stage. “You’ll find yer lass and her da down there.”

  “Thanks.” Max looked longingly toward the clan section, then shifted his gaze downward to seek out Thelonia.

  Oakstone patted Max’s arm, and gave him a sympathetic look. “If ye survive the night, I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”

  As Max took a deep breath and began the descent toward the stage, the old dwarf’s concerned face broke into a wide smile, and he chuckled to himself. “Too easy.” He muttered as he turned and walked toward his own seat.

  Max spotted Thelonia first, and her father a second later. He wasn’t looking forward to the coming confrontation, but he’d never backed down from a fight in his life. If Fitchstone was going to try and take his head, so be it. As he neared their seats, it occurred to him that he should have donned his armor before walking into the auction.

  “Max!” Fitchstone was the first to greet him, a wide smile on his face. The dwarf held out a hand and gave Max’s an enthusiastic shake. “There be much excitement over yer scales. I may have underestimated their value in the current market!”

  “Uh, good. I mean, that’s great!” Max looked over at Thelonia, who was doing her best to hide a smile. “It’s good to see you again.” Max was at a loss for words. He’d expected hostility and a challenge to combat. Maybe a hammer to the face.

  When Fitchstone let go of his hand, Thelonia stepped in and twitched her finger at him, beckoning him to bend down to her level. When he did, she grabbed him by the ears and planted a big kiss, much to the amusement of the surrounding dwarves. “I missed ye.” She whispered, giving him a wink and a soft pat on the cheek before taking a seat and motioning him to sit next to her.