Legacy of the Fallen

by Luke Chmilenko

  “Plus, it would upset Shelia if she had to put you back together again,” I offered to Jenkins as Léandre began to prepare the forge for lighting.

  “She frets enough from the scrapes and scratches I get while working,” Jenkins said with an exasperated look. “I would never live it down.”

  “Now that I think of it, I haven’t seen much of your bride-to-be in the last few days, at least not since my assistants have learned to heal themselves from their mishaps,” Léandre added, pausing from his work at the forge for a moment to look over at Jenkins. “She is keeping busy I trust?”

  “She is,” the man acknowledged as we moved to help the Tul’Shar in getting the forge lit. “She has started up a small chapel in town with a handful of Adventurers that want to become acolytes of the Dawnfather. There is quite a bit of study involved, both mystical and scripture.”

  “I can imagine,” Léandre replied as he lit the forge and waited for the coals to start burning. “Hopefully though we won’t be needing her or any of her acolytes’ services today.”

  “Hopefully,” Jenkins echoed in complete agreement.

  We continued to chat amongst ourselves as the forge slowly began to build in heat, the temperature of the room rising in sympathy. The easy comradery between us quickly had the stress of Lazarus’s news fading off my shoulders as I eagerly watched the intensity of the now blazing forge increase, until I finally deemed it ready.

  “That should do it,” I said, casting a warning glance at Jenkins as I pulled a jug of Æther out of my inventory and began to unscrew the cap. “If you were serious about putting some space between us, now’s the time.”

  “To be safe, I think I will,” Jenkins replied quietly, every inch of his expression showing that he wanted to stay beside Léandre and me. “Just in case this gets out of hand, and we need to react quickly.”

  “It should be fine,” Léandre offered with an understanding nod. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

  “We will see,” Jenkins said, shaking his head at the Tul’Shar before stepping away from us. “Fingers crossed, right?”

  “Right,” I affirmed as I lifted the jug and motioned for Léandre to show me where he wanted the Æther. “Let’s try a little at first and see what happens.”

  “Of course,” he replied, guiding me towards a channel cut into the side of the forge. “Pour slowly and let it drain through the channels.”

  Following the man’s instructions, I held my breath while I lifted the jug and began to pour out the Æther stored inside it into the forge. I saw the familiar glow of the Æther briefly as it left the jug and vanished into the stone channel that Léandre had carved. Watching the Tul’Shar for a sign to stop, I poured nearly half of the jug into the forge before his hand sliced out, warning me to stop.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked, capping and putting the jug back into my inventory to free my hands.

  “A moment,” he replied, motioning for me to follow as we walked around to the mouth of the forge and peered inside, seeing the blazing red-hot coals. “It may take time to react, assuming it even does at all.”

  Waiting in anticipation, the two of us stared into the forge nervously, waiting for some sort of visible reaction to show that the Æther had taken effect, be it either a violent explosion or something else. The seconds ticked away slowly as the two of us continued to stare, disappointment slowly building until well over a minute had passed.

  “Perhaps we could add more?” Léandre suggested. “We may have not—oh!”

  Almost as if they had heard the cat-man’s words, all of the flames inside the forge suddenly intensified with a loud rush of air and turned a bright azure color, causing Léandre and me to cover our eyes from the brightness. Blinded from the searing wave of light, I raised my arm to protect my face just as I heard a chime of triumph, followed by a message appearing in the center of my vision.

  You are the first settlement to create an [Ætherfire Forge]! Congratulations!

  You have gained 500 Renown!

  “It worked!” I shouted, opening my eyes as the intensity of the Ætherfire forge began to dim, eventually evening out to a brightness that was bearable to look at. I heard Léandre exhale in relief before clapping his hand on my shoulder.

  “We were first too!” he said excitedly, having seen the same notification that I had.

  “You guys did it!” Jenkins shouted from across the room as he jogged his way over towards us, his face completely in awe as he stared at the azure-tinted fire in the forge. “It looks stable too!”

  “It does,” I agreed while watching the flames carefully for any sign of a runaway reaction that would be cause for concern.

  “What are you waiting for, Lyrian?” Léandre asked me, his voice sounding impatient. “Try to smelt the shard that you recovered; we have no idea how quickly the forge will burn the Æther!”

  “Right!” I replied, tearing my eyes off the azure flames as I reached into my inventory and pulled out the foot-long shard of metal that I had taken from the Irovian Tower. “Let’s see if this does the trick!”

  Grabbing a crucible, I tossed the shard inside and gently pushed the ceramic container into the mouth of the forge with a long pole, careful not to knock it over in my haste. Waiting patiently, I focused on the tip of the shard that was protruding from the top of the pot, silently praying for it to melt. If this new forge was unable to smelt the strange metal, then I had no idea what I was going to do.

  Minutes passed as heat bared down into the crucible, and by extension the shard within, all three of us staring at it in anticipation, oblivious to the sweat that poured down our faces. Little by little, the shard took on a glassy sheen, losing its dark coloring as it slowly turned grey, eventually beginning to sag, its tip vanishing into the pot as it began to melt.

  “It’s melting!” I exclaimed, feeling a second wave of excitement course through my body as both Jenkins and Léandre let out similar cries of joy.

  “Now if only we can bring enough metal back from the Tower!” Jenkins said excitedly while wringing his hands together. “Then our metal problems will be solved for a while!”

  “Let’s see how easy it is to work with first,” Léandre cautioned, motioning me to pull out the crucible. “Try crafting it into something.”

  “Any suggestions?” I asked as I reached into the forge with the pole and latched it onto the crucible, lifting the red-hot pot out of the head.

  “Axe head,” Jenkins suggested. “I’m going to take one last crack at the tree today before tearing the Town Hall apart; I’ll need all the extra tools I can get my hands on.”

  “In that case, one axe head coming up!” I replied as I set about pouring the liquid metal into an ingot mold, surprised to see that it was a dull azure color when molten, a small tag pointing to it as it dripped free of the crucible.

  [Æthertouched Iron Slag]

  Æthertouched? I repeated to myself mentally, careful not to let any of the metal drip as I set the crucible back down. Is that because of the Æther in the forge, or is that what it used to be before?

  Pushing my question aside for the moment, I focused on working with the still hot metal trying to shape it into the axe head that Jenkins had requested, immediately finding that the metal was extremely difficult to work with. Cooling rapidly and unevenly back to its dark tint, I found myself hard-pressed to keep up with the hardening metal as it refused to shape itself from under my hammer evenly, leaving the finished axe head uneven and oddly shaped.

  “Damn,” I cursed after a moment, realizing that the metal was no longer malleable. “This metal cools really fast; I barely had enough time for more than a handful of strokes before it hardened.”

  “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have thought it possible,” Jenkins agreed, looking over my shoulder at the axe head. “Though for a first attempt with an unknown metal that isn’t too bad.”

  “It seems that unless it can be kept nearly molten, speed is more important than form wh
en shaping this…Æthertouched Iron,” Léandre noted, his head slowly nodding in thought.

  “Seems like it,” I replied, noticing that the single, poorly crafted, axe head had raised my blacksmithing experience by nearly forty percent.

  Blacksmithing – Level 13 – 38%

  We need to get more of the metal at the Tower back to Aldford, I thought, my eyes widening as I inspected the axe head, seeing its description appear in my vision, followed shortly after by a second notification. With how much experience that one axe granted me, I could end up reaching level twenty in Blacksmithing by this time next week!

  Æthertouched Axe Head

  Item Class: Magical

  Item Quality: Poor (-10%)

  Damage: 13-23 (Slashing)

  Strength: +2 Agility: +2

  Durability: 120/120

  Weight: 0.75 kg

  Base Metal: Iron

  Special: Æthertouched

  You have discovered the Crafting Prefix: Æthertouched!

  Æthertouched: Items with this prefix have been suffused with raw Æther, granting it an increased conductivity to mana. All weapons, wands, or implements created from an Æthertouched substance gain increased effectiveness when used to channel or cast magic. All armor created from an Æthertouched substance gain increased resistances against hostile magic and increased mana reserves. The effectiveness of the increases is dependent on the crafter’s skill level and any other materials used in the item’s creation.

  Damn, that’s perfect for me! I blinked in surprise as I read over the notification, immediately understanding its worth to spellcasters, and in my case, Spellswords. If we didn’t have enough of a reason to go back to the Tower to recover the metal that’s there, this would be enough on its own! As it is, this axe is almost just as good as Razor, and ‘poor quality’ on top of it all. If I can work at leveling my blacksmithing skill so I could make a high-quality version of a weapon with this type of metal…

  “Looks like we’re about to get even busier,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement as I motioned for Léandre to take a look at the axe head’s stats. “Even with my half-assed crafting, this metal is stronger and sharper than the bronze we’ve been working with and based on its prefix, it looks like every single caster in the region, hell, continent, since we’re the first to create an Ætherfire forge, is going to want gear made from this.”

  Léandre’s eyes widened for a moment as he inspected the hand axe, absorbing the same information about the Æthertouched prefix that I had just seen. After a few seconds, he shook his head and looked up at me, a wide grin crossing his face. “I agree! I think we need to put recovering metal from the Tower at the top of our list now that we have a way to smelt it and an inkling of its true value…”

  “Definitely,” I affirmed, my mind already shifting towards how we would be able to move that much metal back to the town. “I’ll have to think of a way that we can do it. Maybe we can connect a handful of the wagons the settlers brought together to help bear the load…”

  “That may work,” Léandre agreed, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. “They certainly aren’t being used for much now that the settlers have arrived, nor are the majority of the horses they brought with them.”

  “I’m sure that won’t last,” I replied, my mind already considering ways I could modify the wagons that were sitting unused in the far corner of the town. “Hmm…”

  “Well, since it looks like all the excitement here is over for the morning, I’m going to get back to work,” Jenkins said, noticing that both Léandre and I had fallen deep into thought as we considered the problem of recovering the metal. “Won’t say that I’m not excited about getting some of that new metal to play with, but unless I can sort out that low hanging branch from the Ætherwarped tree…I’m going to be spending all my time repairing the Town Hall while the two of you get to experiment.”

  “I hope it works out, Jenkins,” I told the man while motioning to the deformed axe head. “You want to use that thing? You should be able to get a decent edge on it…”

  “With how many tools I’ve gone through trying to cut through the branch, just having one more might make all the difference,” Jenkins replied with a frustrated expression on his face. “If nothing else, we’ll be able to see just how well this metal stands up against the tree.”

  “Good luck, Jenkins,” Léandre said to the smith as Jenkins grabbed the axe head and wandered over to fashion a haft for it. “Can I have a moment of your time, Lyrian, before you set off as well?”

  “Of course!” I replied, watching the Tul’Shar turn to face me. “I’m just going to head back to craft some armor for the guild. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to let you know that my rest cycle starts today at noon, but that I will likely be gone until Friday morning,” Léandre stated, watching me carefully as he spoke. “My assistants and the foremen from the settlers know what’s expected of them, but I’m going to need your help with some of the construction that will be ongoing while I’m offline. Some of the bracing and material that needs to be crafted are beyond their skill, and I won’t have the time to get around to it this morning.”

  “That’s not a problem at all,” I acknowledged, having filled in for Léandre on more than one occasion. “Whatever they need I’m happy to sort out.”

  “Good, thank you,” Léandre said slowly, taking in a deep breath as he spoke. “But there is something else that you should know…just in case I don’t come back.”

  “Don’t come back?” I exclaimed with alarm. “What do you mean? Do you think you’re going to quit playing Ascend Online?”

  “I hope not,” Léandre said in a small voice as he clasped his hands together nervously. “But coming back may not be up to me, not entirely at least.”

  “I don’t understand, Léandre,” I replied, the man’s worried expression at odds with everything that I had known about him. “What’s going on?”

  “When I log off today, I am going to be undergoing Age Regression treatment,” Léandre told me, his eyes fixating on me as he spoke. “At my age…there is a more than even chance that I may not survive the procedure, but with the waiting lists so long…this is the first opportunity that I’ve had.”

  “You’re going for Age Regression?!” I looked at Léandre in disbelief, never having met anyone rich enough to afford the intensive nano-treatments that could effectively peel decades of aging away from a person, leaving them looking and feeling as they once did in their prime. “Léandre, j-just how old are you? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

  “It is not a problem at all,” the Tul’Shar replied with a smile. “In May, I will turn ninety-five.”

  “I had no idea,” I said, staring at Léandre in awe. “The way you move, how energetic you are…”

  “Is how I used to be,” he answered, giving me a sad look. “Before the weight of time pressed down on my bones and diseases robbed me of my health. This game has given me a taste of what I once had when I was younger, and even with the odds against me, I find that even if it costs me my fortune and my life, I must try.”

  “You’ll make it,” I told Léandre firmly, still trying to wrap my mind around what he had just told me, realizing that he was rolling the dice for a chance to turn his body’s clock back to my age, or possibly even younger depending on how he reacted to the treatments.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if I would do the same in his shoes. After all, who didn’t want to have a second chance at life?

  “We will see,” Léandre said fatalistically, his mood improving instantly now that he had unburdened himself. “But now with that news out of the way, I should bring you up to speed with all the projects that I have on the go, just in case…”

  “Alright,” I nodded at the Tul’Shar as he motioned for me to follow him out of the room, unable to stop myself from wondering if this would be the last time I spoke with him.

  “So, first thing,” Léandre began. “I’ve crafted the framewo
rk for the third longhouse already, and it should assemble easily, all you need to do is…”

  Chapter 22

  “Hey Lyrian, Cerril said that you were looking for me?” I heard Ritt’s voice ring out in the Crafting Hall as I worked to finish a stitch on the helmet before me, the last and final piece of armor in my day-long marathon crafting session.

  “Yeah!” I called to the merchant, turning away from my work for a second to beckon him over. “I have a few armor sets that I want you to put up for sale. I figured it’d be easier to get him to call you in here to show you everything, rather than drag it outside.”

  “Fair enough—” Ritt started to say as his feet echoed across the room, his voice suddenly catching when he saw the fruits of my labor organized into piles on the nearby tables, sorted by the differences in their design. “Lyrian, there has to be two dozen sets of armor here! You made this all today?!”

  “Well, not all of it,” I told the man, tying off my stitch and tucking it behind a fold of leather. “The leather base for the armor I made a few days ago, I was just waiting until I found something I could use to reinforce it all. Thanks to the snakes we fought yesterday, I finally had something to work with.”

  “I heard about that,” Ritt stated uneasily. “I had one of your Adventurers resurrect practically on top of me at the quarantine yesterday. He said something about being eaten…”

  “That must have been Connor,” I replied with a nod. “He zagged when he should have zigged. Didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Ugh, I don’t know how you can do it,” Ritt said visibly shivering at my caviler attitude. “I can stand up to a goblin or an orc without even blinking, but if it’s something that can eat me…my knees are all jelly.”

  “Everybody has their fears, Ritt,” I told the young merchant understandingly. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Easy for you to say.” The man shook his head. “You can’t die, well, permanently at least.”