He finished the build by drilling holes through the metal bands at each end, riveting them with large metal studs, repeating the same process for the axe block. When he finished hammering the pieces, he heated them up to weld them shut, before taking them back to the grinder; using a low-grit sander, he polished each piece into a beautiful azure sheen. When the main weapon was finished, he wielded it in a test: It was perfectly balanced, allowing quick, precise attacks with both the axe and the morningstar, without becoming tiresome due to its weight. He sanded three portions of the shaft into an ovoid, so Rothmund could feel the alignment of the blades, finishing them by wrapping an elk leather strip into them. Hephaestus declared the weapon complete, prompting the naming and bonus selection menu:
Ignore armor, extra damage, bonus strength, and bonus attack speed
Ironblue (Axe – golden hue)
-unique-
Damage: 45-60
Bonus: Ignore 25% armor
Bonus: +10 Damage
Bonus: +20 Strength
Bonus: +20% Attack Speed
Value: 85,000 GP
Lore: A curious, balanced weapon, combining the best traits of a battle-axe, a longsword, and a morningstar into a deadly tool for killing.
Crafted by Hephaestus
The blacksmith was surprised by a LEVEL UP message appearing into his screen, reasoning that due to the material he had used, he had accrued enough experience to reach level six:
LEVEL UP!
HP +30
MP +30
ATRIBUTE Point +1
“Huh,” he said out loud. As he said so, a tooltip appeared, saying:
Every five levels you are awarded with 1 (one) Attribute point to use as you wish – use it wisely!
Hephaestus nodded, bringing up his character screen, noticing that at the end of every attribute there was a plus sign, indicating he could increase it. After some deliberation he decided where to assign his point:
Attributes
STR – 21 (+1)
END - 15
FIN - 20
INT - 15
RHE - 5
LUK – 5
Confirm?
“Yes,” he said out loud, accepting his changes. He reasoned that increasing his strength would allow him to work much more easily, as well as allowing him to better work any rare metals he came across.
When he finished the weapon, he noticed Altara leaning on a corner, watching him intently. He hefted the axe, declaring “It’s finished!”
“So I can see,” she said, “Beautiful metalworking.”
“Thank you. I’ve honed it through a lifetime.”
“Indeed,” she extended her hand to check the weapon; the smith handed it to her. She tested its balance and build, whistling before she said “Impressive, and much better than the steel weapon you made, I must say. Hmm, the bears on the blades, that’s Bjornson Arms and Armor’s signature, ain’t it?”
“Mhm. Been using it since I learned how to carve in metal.”
“Are you sure about that, Hephy? I mean, I don’t know if you copyrighted it or—”
Hephaestus held his hand, stating “If it’s an issue, well, I’m the owner of Bjornson’s bear, so if anyone wants to make trouble out of it, I’ll just wave my ownership in front of them.”
Altara shrugged. “Fair enough. Why the name, though, ‘Ironblue?’”
The smith mimicked the gesture, saying “It’s metal, and it’s blue. No particular reason.”
“Alright then,” the woman said. “Now onto the armor, I presume?”
“Of course, gotta provide as quickly as possible!”
Saying that, Hephaestus walked back towards the furnace, eager to work on a new piece of armor.
***
Few things happened in Alterwelt without Liberath’s notice, and few things interested him more than his monopoly on item crafting. Reaching a point where he could have the luxury—indeed, the privilege of owning nearly every forging guild in Alterwelt had cost him dearly. Well, he thought with a chuckle, not so dearly after all. Being the nephew of one of the game’s lead developers had its perks, as well as certain amenities not available to most other players.
He enjoyed his seat of power, and hated it vehemently whenever anything threatened it in any way, slight though it was; thus why he pored over the news, time and again, of Baratus’ old forge coming back into business. When Ilmer had come with the rumor, a whisper more like, of Rothmund intending to commission something of the guy he had defeated, whatever his name was, Liberath had dismissed it as mere gossip.
When word came of Rothmund selling his guild-made weapons and armor, Liberath had been forced to look into the rumor as something more serious. Though he still didn’t think much of it, his opinion was swayed when he received the confirmation that Baratus’ forge was operating once more, under the wing of that character, Hephaestus.
“A true nobody,” he spat loudly, “why should I care?”
“Sire,” Ilmer said next to him, “fact of the matter is Rothmund commissioned this man over one of the guilds. This sets a... difficult precedent.”
“Oh?”
“Sire, reportedly the price this man, Hephaestus, charged for his work was a hundred thousand a piece.”
“Hundred thousand? Interesting.”
“You see the problem now, sire?”
Liberath shrugged indolently. “Truth be told, I fail to see it. He’s but one man.”
“So was Baratus, sire, and must I remind you what came of that?”
The lord sighed dramatically, “No, Ilmer, you must not. Very well; let’s assume this person is akin to Baratus, a stupid idealist unwilling to accept my terms. If, and when the time comes, we can deal with him accordingly.
Just as with Baratus.”
Chapter XI: Use of Weapons
“Calling the virtual spaces we host dangerous is quite a stretch of the word. You can spend months, years even inside a virtual space, with only a handful of minutes passing outside. Think: Many people would give anything to have more seconds to be alive. We are giving years – dozens, hundreds of them, how could that be dangerous to anyone?”
-Jolier Vazquez, in “Ethics of Extended Life – a debate”
Over the course of the following in-game days, the blacksmith worked tirelessly to complete his commission. Hephaestus was huffing by the time he finished Rothmund’s armor; sweat streamed in rivulets over his body, and though he could feel the effects of exertion on his organism, he was satisfied with his work. The armor had followed the same building process as the one he had produced for himself; the key difference, other than the superior stats (and better bonuses) was the beautiful blue hue of the metal, subtly shimmering whenever light fell on it. Though the design was no longer entirely original, as he had worn it himself, it remained one Hephaestus felt proud of.
“Well,” Altara said nearby, “ain’t that a damn beautiful piece, Hephy,” she walked closer to appreciate the finish of the armor, passing her hand over it. “You satisfied with it?”
The smith nodded, “As satisfied as I can be.”
“Fair ‘nuff. Should I call in Rothmund?”
“Go ahead,” he replied, “it’s time to turn in the job.”
Altara did as asked, informing Hephaestus that his customer would arrive shortly. “What do you wanna do meanwhile?” she asked.
“Honest?” replied Hephaestus, shrugging, “take a short break.”
The woman laughed. “Fair enough, been tireless at the forge.” She paused, thinking, “on different matters, well, you goin’ to get your own forge after Rothmund coughs up?”
Hephaestus shrugged, “I’m getting one of those damn forger’s permits alright and, eventually, my own forge. First, however, well, my stuff needs to prove itself doesn’t it?”
“Hell you talkin’ about? Your pieces are flawless, Hephaestus.”
“Perhaps in their construction, but Rothmund ne
eds to wear them and succeed.” He grinned, “bad publicity if he dies wearing them, don’t you think?”
Altara crossed her arms over her chest, a mildly vexed expression on her face, “Rothmund requested masterful pieces, he chose the bonus himself. If he gets splattered on Baldera, well,” she shrugged, “his fault, not yours.”
“Fair enough, I can give him gear, but not skill.”
“Precisely. Well, gotta wait for him to arrive now, no?”
“Mhm. And take a break.”
“And here I thought you had unendin’ stamina; what gives?”
“Well,” Hephaestus said, sitting on a nearby chair, “burnout is a real thing. Stepping aside, breathing, and admiring one’s finished work is important, lest you become sloppy or, worse, tired of what you’re doing.”
“You’ve earned a break, alright.” Saying that, Altara pulled another chair within the workshop, sitting in front of Hephaestus; as she sat, she reclined her head backwards, rubbing at her temples.
Hephaestus noticed the gesture, and something else: the woman looked exhausted. Though he knew they were within a simulated space, he had come to see people, and their reactions as real. Then again, he wondered, were they truly real? For all he knew, Altara could be someone else entirely, hell, not even a woman, yet as she sat in front of him, deflated on a chair, well, she seemed real enough to him. Silence stretched awkwardly, until he decided to ask: “So, why do you need the money?”
“Pardon?”
Leaning forward, Hephaestus asked “Well, from the time you offered me to work together with you, you’ve been looking for a large sum of gold. Tremendous, more like,” he grunted, reclining back on his seat. “Must be a good reason for that.”
“You think? Hm,” she crossed a leg over another—putting a barrier between them, wondered Hephaestus. “Well, ain’t that what life’s about? Money, power, showin’ off you’ve got a larger dick than every other guy,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “You’d expect that virtual space might be different, turns out it’s the same crap, except with swords and sorcery.”
“You sound angry.”
“I do? My bad,” she said, sighing. “Not a topic I’m quite fond of, really.”
“I understand.”
They were silent. Hephaestus fidgeted with a dagger, while Altara stared intently at him. After some time, she broke the silence; “That it?”
“Hm?”
“You ain’t goin’ to further ask about it? Push through my dramatic angst, or whatever?”
Hephaestus sighed, “Altara, we’ve been through this before. If it’s a topic you don’t want to discuss, I am not pushing it further, period. You have your reasons, whatever they might be, just as I have mine. If you want to discuss them, you will. Otherwise,” he shrugged, “Not pushing it.”
“Hmm,” she relaxed back on her chair, saying “You know, after what your kids said ‘bout me, what with knowin’ someone who’s got banned, gettin’ implied and whatnot, I’d figured you’d be keener on knowin’ what all that was ‘bout.”
“With all due respect, Altara, I don’t care. You are helping me do what I love, I’m helping you fulfill your goal. If along the way you choose to tell me, it’ll be your choice.”
“Why do you place so much importance on the matter of choosin’, anyways?”
“Because,” he said turning away from her, “we are the sum total of our choices. And their consequences.”
“Sounds like you’ve made some choices you regret.”
“Hah, haven’t we all?”
“That we have, Hephy,” she said, crossing her arms behind her head, “that we have.”
“And we learn to deal with them. Such is life, no? At least here, in Alterwelt, well,” he shrugged, “I guess it being a virtual world is the closest anyone will ever get to having a literal second chance,” he paused, chuckling, “short of being reincarnated, of course.”
“One day, perhaps, but for now,” nodding towards the smithy’s entrance, “we’ve got company.”
Hephaestus turned towards the entrance, seeing what Altara meant. Falcata and Talwar strolled into the workshop; his daughter’s avatar looked ill at ease, likely still awkward at being close to Altara; Talwar, meanwhile, nodded the woman’s way and said “Hey da, you’re ready with the commission?”
“I am, Rothmund’s on his way.” He paused. “Wanna see?”
“Sure.” Hephaestus showed him the weapons and armor he crafted for Rothmund, feeling pleased as his son whistled, saying “Those are some damn good pieces, da, despite the low-levelish material.”
“Low-levelish?”
“Well ah, don’t take it the wrong way, da. It’s just that azuraneum isn’t exactly a top-tier material.”
“Truly?” Hephaestus said, placing his fists on his hips. “Illuminate me, then, what can I look forward to working with?”
“That’s gonna take a while dad, some materials are level-locked, and you ain’t getting too much experience.”
“Ahha, can you see my level?”
“I... why?”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Talwar saw Hephaestus’ character level, eyes wide as he said “Eight already? How? You’re not going out to grind, are you?”
“Nope; all of that is from crafting Rothmund’s armor.”
“Hm, I see;” replied his son, scratching his chin. “I guess it makes sense, you’re using a higher tier material than steel, and you made a full set of armor, plus a weapon. But da, don’t you wanna go out into the world, explore and whatnot?”
“Truly?” Talwar nodded, “Not really. I’m sure there must be a number of very interesting things, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m being honest, I feel far more comfortable right here, at the forge.”
“Don’t you mean her forge?” Falcata added in snidely.
“Fine, Altara’s forge. Doesn’t quite matter, though. I intend to get my own in time.”
“Meanwhile,” chimed in Altara, “he’s welcome to use this one as oft as he likes.”
Falcata’s eyes narrowed in disdain. “With a price, for sure?”
The other woman grinned slyly, “Ain’t nothin’ free in this life, is there?”
“Alright both of you, stop,” said a vexed Hephaestus. “I don’t care for your squabbling. Falcata, I’m having a good time crafting, and I’ll be making enough gold to set up my own shop. Altara, there’s no point in antagonizing my daughter. At least not if you want to get along smoothly.”
“We’re not going to get along, da,” his daughter said, “I don’t quite like cheaters.”
“Well, you don’t seem to like the truth either, do you?”
“Truth,” Falcata said, “is that you were caught hacking!”
“Bullshit concocted for anyone willing to swallow it,” she paused, before adding, “as you might understand.”
“Why you fu—”
“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hephaestus yelled. “Damn it I don’t care if you two get along, but while I’m at the forge, there won’t be any arguments, is that clear?”
Altara glared at him, “This ain’t quite your forge though, is it?” Hephaestus stared at her in return, the look in his eyes enough to make Altara say “Alright, alright, yeesh.”
“Thank you. Now, back to materials?”
“Uh, sure da,” Talwar said. “Well, some materials need odd stuff to produce, but I think you can figure that out. You’ve got mithril, orichalcum, adamantium, umberium, vermilium,” he shrugged, “and those are what I remember right now.”
“Quite a number of funny sounding stuffs, but I’ll manage.”
“Hah, you don’t know half of them dad! There are also ores, crystals,” Talwar made a whooshing noise, adding “Quite a lot for you to discover.”
“Sounds find to me. First things first, however: Let’s deliver this commission.”
They waited for Rothmund’s arrival, small-talking to while the time away.
Falcata and Altara remained staring daggers at each other, while Talwar and Hephaestus tried their best to ignore them; the topic of Hephaestus using Baratus’ forge was never brought up, as both men knew it would raise trouble. Besides, Hephaestus was keen on hearing Altara’s version first, as the official one was clear enough to him.
After some time, they heard Rothmund’s whistling coming their way. “Is he always this cheerful?” Hephaestus asked.
Talwar lifted his hands in ignorance, “I guess I’d be happy too, if I was about to be given some accessories to murder with.”
“Fair point. Well, let’s greet the man.” Together, the four of them left the forge to meet Rothmund outside. “Greetings,” Hephaestus hailed him as he extended his hand.
Rothmund took it, shaking it vigorously as he said “Ah, morning, Blacksmith! Your associate,” he said nodding in Altara’s direction, “told me my things are ready. Shall we?”
“By all means,” Hephaestus replied, leading Rothmund towards the mannequin holding his weapon and armor. Before Rothmund took the gear, Hephaestus noticed his expression. A mixture between glee, awe, and a glint of murderous eagerness.
Rothmund picked the weapon first, swinging it around to feel its weight and balance; after some time, he asked: “Ironblue?”
“It’s metal, and it’s blue,” Hephaestus said with a shrug, “nothing fancy about the name.”
“Well,” said Rothmund, a large grin on his face, “I love it! It’s quick, it’s brutal, and damn, it looks gorgeous! The armor too is magnificent, smith, and the metallic color is fantastic. Well worth the money, I must say! So, eight hundred it is, correct?”
“Mhm.”
“Right-o!” The trade interface appeared, and Rothmund, true to his word, placed the gold in his own screen, prompting Hephaestus to accept. The smith did so, seeing the number added to his own inventory. “It’s done, then! But that’s not the end of it, is it?”
“Meaning?” Hephaestus asked.
True Smithing: A Crafting LitRPG Series Page 14
