True Smithing: A Crafting LitRPG Series

by Jared Mandani

  Hephaestus nodded, taking a bite of the food in front of him. It tasted delicious—warm, and homemade. Just as the weapons he produced in his heyday, and as this simulation had proven, things were simply better when done with care and passion. Hephaestus kept eating, excited to find out what else he would be able to forge.

  Chapter III: To Arken

  “How do you know if someone is a person, or a non-player-character? Easy – you don’t! It’s part of the fun, don’t you think? You can decide whether to behave yourself, in case you’re dealing with a fellow human being, or be a complete bastard thinking it’s just a simulation. In the end, your choices are your own.”

  -Jolier Vazquez, “Ethical Dilemmas of Infinite Possibilities – an interview”

  Hephaestus felt well rested after having partaken of Alva’s meal. It had been nourishing, and satisfying. Whether it translated to his real body, he didn’t care. He felt well enough to travel, now, and his destination would be the city of Arken, somewhere to the northwest. Angus and Alva gave him some starting essentials: a pair of sturdy leather boots, a hooded travel cloak, and some food. Angus said he would have offered him a weapon, but nothing he had could come close to the dagger Hephaestus created so, instead, he gave him a number of crafting materials: iron, tanned leather, a number of tools, and some wood. Though Hephaestus would have been glad to stay in the village, he wanted to explore the world, and its possibilities as a blacksmith.

  “Wait,” said Angus behind him. “There are some things you must know… There are various metals and minerals you can find on Alterwelt, Hephaestus. I know not where you come from, but some of them may possess properties unknown to you; patience and experimentation are key.”

  “Thank you Angus,” said Hephaestus. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Don’t hesitate to learn some magic. Infusing your weapons with elemental energy, or even sharpening enchantments can make them all the more effective.”

  Shaking his head, Hephaestus said, “No need, a good weapon can stand on its own, regardless of any fancy enhancements set upon it."

  “All the same, keep it in mind, as some people may want said enhancements upon their weapons. Finally, well, the roads are not entirely safe. You have shown you know how to make a weapon, but do you know how to use it?”

  Hephaestus shrugged. “I can manage.”

  “In that case,” Angus said, “I won’t keep you no more. Best of luck on your travels, Hephaestus, keep doing honor to your name, and who knows? One day you may even surpass me!” he added with a hearty laugh. The two men clasped their hands, and Hephaestus set off on his way to Arken.

  ***

  Following the northern road out of the village was quite easy, Hephaestus realized, as he went about his way towards the city. The road was made out of hard-packed dirt, worn smooth after decades of people, cattle, and carts trampling it. A signpost outside of the village told him where to go, offering a number of destinations: Arken, Volen, Tyr, Baldera, Cragshire, and other places for him to explore. Perhaps one day he would visit all of them, but as it was, his destination remained Arken. A prompt appeared above the signpost:

  Would you like to fast-travel?

  Hephaestus declined, as he wanted to enjoy the trip.

  The green fields around the village gave way to gently rolling hills, showing a number of isolated farmsteads in the distance. Azure mountains loomed far away, their frozen peaks faintly reflecting the midafternoon sun; Hephaestus was surprised not to see any people on the road, as the vistas were beautiful. He surmised it had to do with that fast-travel feature. Just as with smithing, people preferred quick shortcuts over the true effort of the journey, it seemed. He wouldn’t let that way of thinking get to him; being an older man, he had learned the value of patience, and enjoyment of any given moment. For him, any extra moment of enjoyment he got was a thing of wonder, to be appreciated, and treated as such.

  Hills gave way to a lush, evergreen forest—and about time too, as the sun above was starting to cook his thoughts. The cold shade of the trees was welcome, as the sweltering heat of the day was starting to become uncomfortable; the change of scenery was also a nice plus, as the forest was a far cry from the rolling hills he had been traversing thus far—it felt ancient, no, positively elder, as the trees sitting there had lived through ages untold. They weren’t impressively tall as sequoias are, but they were large and ponderous, their canopies blotting out almost all of the sunlight; what little percolated through the thickness of leaves made shadows dance along the road, while the smell of greenery and life inundated his senses.

  As he enjoyed the scenery, he didn’t notice the cracking close to him, indicating a presence. Indicating danger. He kept walking, unaware of the shady figure now trailing him from behind; Hephaestus was so taken by his surroundings, and the reality of it all, that he didn’t notice he was being trailed until the attacker pounced on him.

  Hephaestus felt the weight against his back, but the attack was successful. Pain lashed momentarily through his side, as his attacker’s weapon plunged into him. Thanks to his Endurance, however, though he took damage, it wasn’t fatal, giving him enough time to turn around, shove his enemy back, and equip his dagger.

  He got a first look at the attacker: a person wearing a cape and hood obscuring their features; their body was covered by supple-looking leather armor, light woolen breeches, and thigh-high boots. In their hands, Hephaestus noticed, were two of those ridiculous-looking automatically crafted weapons. One was a dagger, its blade too wide to be functional, bifurcated at the middle into two thin, brittle-looking prongs; the other weapon looked as a main-gauche, except lacking the grooves on its spine to parry blows. Its quillons were the interesting part, they were long, thin spikes protruding from either side of its crossguard. They were as, if not more dangerous than the original weapon crafted by Hephaestus.

  The blacksmith himself wouldn’t be intimidated by some goon, however. Every weapon he created, he tested, for balance, edge sharpness, resistance, and though he wasn’t a complete enthusiast of historical European martial arts, throughout his life he had known people who were, some he even had the honor of calling friends; as such, he would spar at times with them, learning a thing or two about close-quarters combat. His knowledge came in handy, as he managed to read his opponent’s next movement—they assumed a weak stance, unbalanced in their legs as they were spread too wide; their right arm was risen, likely for an upwards lunge, though his enemy didn’t have the distance, nor the stance to pull off such a move. Hephaestus brought his dagger up, allowing his enemy’s weapon to slide along its blade, catching on its quillons, and giving him room to punch the other person’s stomach. Air exploded from his attacker’s lungs, forcing them to bend over in a coughing fit.

  Hephaestus then kicked his opponent, making them topple down. A thin, male voice said, “What the shit man? What kind of move was that!?”

  The blacksmith said nothing, not wanting to give any quarter to his fallen opponent. Instead, he banged the pommel of his dagger against his temple, knocking him out cold. An option to loot his fallen enemy appeared, prompting him to rummage through his equipment and take it for himself. He accepted, after all, he had bested his opponent fair and square. It seemed that turning the manual option on for smithing had done the same for combat. When he looted the fallen would-be thief, a menu appeared showing the experience he gained, along with what he could take:

  Thick Leather Armor (green hue)

  -uncommon-

  AC: 5

  Bonus: Defense +1

  Value: 250GP

  Woolen Cape of Stealth (blue hue)

  -rare-

  Bonus: Stealth +5

  Bonus: Ice Resist +5

  Value: 500GP

  Serpent’s Tongue (Dagger – blue hue)

  -rare-

  Damage: 5-10

  Bonus: Damage +2

  Bonus: Ignore 10% Defense

  Value: 400 GP

/>   Brigand’s Kiss (Dagger – green hue)

  -uncommon-

  Damage: 3-8

  Bonus: Ignore 5% defense

  Value: 300 GP

  Gold Pieces: 800

  Experience: 50

  He took it all gladly, seeing his experience counter edge closer towards gaining another level. When he saw the brigand, he realized it was a young man, not older than eighteen or nineteen years of age. Hephaestus knelt to check his pulse, satisfied at seeing that the boy was alive, though unconscious; he would be someone else’s problem, later on. He took a piece of leather from his inventory, and used his own dagger to cut some thin strips from it. He then wove them deftly into a makeshift rope, which he used to tie the brigand’s hands and feet. That’ll serve him right, he thought.

  Once his handiwork was complete, he reviewed his loot. Nothing impressive, he realized, as the weapons though designated as rare and uncommon, weren’t well-made, as they posed more of a danger and hindrance to their user, rather than a boon. Still, he determined he could either sell them for some quick money, or dismantle them for materials. The cape, however, was well made, and it offered some bonuses to the Stealth skill; he put it on, increasing his own skill to ten, rather than five. Either way, he had succeeded in his first combat encounter.

  And he didn’t like it. Of course, the thrill of fighting could be appealing to people—and he admitted he had had some fun—but the stress of knowing he could be taken down, his stuff and gold stolen, that wasn’t why he was in the virtual space. He wanted to create things, to feel the serenity of working at a forge, shaping metal to his will. And if the weapons he had seen so far were any indication, well, his own creations would turn out to be better in the long run.

  Hephaestus resumed his way to Arken, being more cautious about his surroundings; though he felt more confidence in his combat ability now, he still wanted to avoid any unnecessary combat, as he didn’t want to risk being knocked out and robbed. He remembered the damage he had taken—from his three-hundred-thirty effective health points, he had lost thirty-six, as he had received a sneak attack; nothing too bad, all things considered, as his endurance made him resilient to pain. Still, he wanted to be in top condition; he took an apple out of his inventory, and dug into it; sweet juice dribbled down his chin, as he saw his health begin its slow recovery. Guess not everything can be hyper-realistic, he thought, else it wouldn’t be fun – I’d be lying down in a pool of my blood.

  He kept walking as he enjoyed the apple, still thrilled by the forest around him. After all, attempted murder took away none of the beauty surrounding him.

  ***

  Jonas’ head was aching as he and his sister left their father’s smithy. Amelia tried to play things off, but he had seen the tools out of their places, as well as the grooves on the floor where dust and fillings had been trampled over by wheels. He didn’t want to be angry at their dad—it was his life’s passion, after all—but how couldn’t he? He would get hurt one day, worse than he already had.

  “You have to understand him, Jonas,” said Amelia behind him, “it’s not like he can just stop doing what he loves overnight.”

  “I’m well aware, Amy, but what are we to do if he gets badly wounded? I mean, hell, he’s already screwed up his hips, can no longer get up and walk!”

  “And do you think that was the worst part for him, Jonas?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” she sighed, “that dad is in pain, Jonas. Not because he can’t walk, not because he needs a wheelchair to move around. Jonas, dad’s truest passion in life was working at the forge, and you know that! Even when he made trinkets and baubles, there was nothing he liked more than making things at his smithy.”

  “Not even being with us.”

  “Jonas,” chided Amelia.

  “It’s true! He was always too busy working on a commission to spend any quality time with us, wasn’t he?”

  His sister sighed. “You know that’s not true. He passed on to us everything he knew. Isn’t that quality time for you?”

  “Well, I guess, but I mean... pah, I don’t know.”

  “Look Jonas,” she said, “I get what you mean… We didn’t have the most normal childhood. But, well, I wouldn’t trade it off for anything in the world.”

  It was Jonas’ turn to let his breath out. “No, I guess not. Still, I... sorry. I’m just frustrated that dad keeps trying to work at the forge; we can’t be here all day to look after him.”

  “I know, but give him time, Jonas. It’s not an easy thing, being old.”

  Jonas said nothing more.

  They walked up the stairs to their father’s room, amazed at the display of upper body strength their dad had pulled off—getting down the stairs, hauling his wheelchair, then doing the same in reverse, their old man was stubborn, indeed. Jonas felt ready for a confrontation with his dad, telling him off about how irresponsible he was by pulling such feats when alone; he had readied his best arguments, when he saw his father lying on his bed, the neuro-virtual helmet on his head.

  Amy came after him. When she noticed their father, she said, “Well, would you look at that! He did come around to trying the rig.”

  “Indeed he did. Huh, I expected it would be more difficult to convince him.”

  “Well, I guess he had a little adventure downstairs,” his sister said, “and he might have become convinced.”

  “True enough.” He paused. “You think he’s alright?”

  “I’m sure he is, Jonas. He ain’t stupid, you know? He can take care of himself.”

  “Still Amy, we should go in and try to find him. Dunno, show him the ropes, help him around?”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll log into Alterwelt as soon as I get home, Jonny. Hell, may even do a quest or two while at it.”

  “Hmm,” Jonas took his hand to his chin.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Well,” he replied, “We don’t know his character’s name, and we have no idea what’s he going to do.”

  A smirk appeared on Amelia’s lips, “Oh Jonny, you really have no idea what he’s going to do? He’s going to run after the first forge he can find, and start crafting some weapons and armor.”

  “True, still, there’s god knows how many forges in there, it’s gonna take a while to find him.”

  “Well,” Amelia said, “In the meantime, let’s get some materials and gold for him. I’m sure he’s going to like that.”

  Jonas grinned. As usual, his sister was right. “Alright then. I’ll go ahead and log into Alterwelt, you can join in later. Meet you at our usual hangout?”

  A smiling Amelia replied: “Of course!”

  Chapter IV: A Means to an End

  “Realism is a path, not a goal. If our simulations were realistic – well, that wouldn’t be fun, would it? I mean, you couldn’t soar through the skies, or cast lightning off your butthole, or take gunshots to the gut. If they were completely realistic, well, what would the point be? You would get the same experiences going out into the real world, doing everything you wanted, and risk getting splattered on a rock if your parachute fails to deploy!”

  -Jolier Vazquez, “The Limits of Simulated Realism, an interview.”

  The journey towards Arken had been mostly uneventful, though enjoyable; Hephaestus had seen things he had never thought he’d see—towering mountains, pristine rivers, lush forests, among others. He had seen a scant few people around, who mostly didn’t interact with him. A peddler sold him some produce, however; fresh water and a few candies, snacks to while the time away.

  The city of Arken became noticeable the moment he reached the top of a hill, giving him a view of a valley below. Towers were apparent in the horizon, their size belied by the distance; still, they gleamed as they reflected sunlight back at him. As he came closer, he realized they were but a minor glimpse of what Arken had to offer—when he came closer, he could see tremendous ramparts set on ponde
rous walls, protecting ornately crafted spires and towers, dominating the skyline; hanging bridges connected various towers to one another, serving as walkways for the droves of people coming and going about their business; smaller buildings accentuated the hues of lavishness with comparatively minimalistic, utilitarian designs: stables, inns, shops, commerce buildings of various purposes, and other miscellaneous edifices colored Arken with life.

  What caught Hephaestus’ attention, however, was the large—impressive even—number of forges in town. Every block of the city seemed to have one, sometimes two forges ready to produce arms and armor for the oncoming adventurers, some were even specialized in staff-making and crystalworking, catering to spellcasters and other magi. The initial awe waned rapidly, however, as he realized that the items being produced were the cookie-cutter “cool” objects made automatically. He realized, too, that the movements of the people forging items were mechanical, uncoordinated—automated.

  Disenchantment welled inside him. It was a shame to see so much good metal, so many supple pieces of leather wasted on generic stuff; he figured the various pieces of gear served the purpose of the virtual space, fitting people who didn’t know better with weapons and armor which, at best, got the job done. Still, his combat experience outside the village showed him that some people opted to use the automated systems, rather than actually learning how to do things by themselves. Hephaestus couldn’t understand that. Having a safe, virtual world where one could manage to learn and do, quite literally, anything they wanted was an impressive prospect, especially if the knowledge acquired could carry on to the real world. He figured he had an advantage on that regard: Having the actual skill and know-how to make top quality weapons and armors would give him an edge against any competitors; besides, since processes took shorter in this place, he would manage to produce impressive—if not exquisite—pieces in a fraction of the time it would take otherwise.