A fireball sailed above Altara’s head, barely missing her as she ducked beneath its reach; she tumbled, rolled to a crouch, produced her longbow, and shot a volley of arrows against her attacker. Hephaestus’ knees wobbled as he realized she was fighting against none other than Liberath. He had no time to voice his concern, however, as the sorcerer phased out of existence, reappearing behind Altara, and launching a mass of lightning at the woman; Altara rolled out of the way, awkwardly trying to climb to her feet. Her footing wasn’t right, however, and she fell backwards onto her back.
Slowly, Liberath walked towards her, a red, crackling surge of magic scintillating on his fingertip, aimed straight at the prostrate woman, aimed straight towards Altara. Hephaestus had to act, do something, anything! Finding no other option, he jumped between Altara and Liberath right as the lord released his magical energy.
A piercing pain stabbed through Hephaestus’ chest as the spell made his heart burst into jelly. Blood sputtered from his lips, dribbling down his chin, staining his shirt a bright crimson. He fell on his back, staring sightlessly at the sky above. Huh, he thought, the sky is indeed much prettier here.
He felt blackness creeping in...
Replaced by a sudden burst of light, a searing pain in his chest, and a rush of cold air into his lungs; he breathed in ragged rasps, coughing and sputtering as his cavities filled with air and life once more. Hephaestus turned over to spill the contents of his stomach, feeling a dull sense of gladness at not having anything to let out. His arms and legs felt weak and wobbly as he tried to push himself to his feet. He felt a wreck but, at least, he was alive.
When he managed to climb to his feet, he saw a concerned Falcata by his side, a golden sheen barely visible in her hands; he turned around, noticing a worried, tear-eyed Altara and, further along the same way, two men holding a raging Talwar who sputtered some nonsense about “killing the son of a bitch.”
Hephaestus needed to act before things worsened, “Enough,” he rasped weakly, his voice unheard among the clamor of the crowd. God damn it, he thought, before taking a deep breath and bellowing “ENOUGH, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” The tumult went silent—a tangible, thick silence which stretched as far as the ear could hear. But his purpose had been accomplished: Everyone had shut up, not even a whisper could be heard among the people gathered by his forge.
Slowly, weakly, he took a step towards Liberath, taking in his features: A stupid, shit-eating grin, a self-satisfied expression in his eyes, his eyebrows arched in such a way as to invite violence towards the man. Hephaestus knew why he felt such revulsion towards Liberath. He reminded him of every masturbatory, self-aggrandizing, weak-minded bureaucrat he had ever had to deal with, abusing the power of their office as, without it, they were nothing. For a moment, he caught himself feeling pity for Liberath, and whoever he was in real life to stoop so low as abusing his bureaucratic power within a videogame.
“Ah, my good Hephaestus!” called Liberath as the smith came closer. “I do beg your pardon! My Finger of Death wasn’t aimed at you. I truly, truly am sorry for the dire circumstances of our meeting, but I am grateful for the intervention of this lovely lady—”
“Shut the hell up!” cried Falcata. “You nearly killed my father, outside of a damn Player-Versus-Player zone! You know well enough what that means you... lanky-assed, rosy cheeked, effeminate fuck!”
“Effeminate?” gasped Liberath, “Why, the audacity! I could have you reported over harassment, you know?”
“You could have me reported?” Falcata spat, “Hah, I would make an appeal, sure enough! And if I did, then what? Would you hide evidence just as you did with Baratus?”
Liberath’s grin vanished, “I assure you, I have no idea what are you speaking of.”
“Truly?” Falcata stood up, taking advantage of the gathered crowd. “LISTEN PEOPLE! Who among you, here, knows of Baratus the blacksmith’s banning?” Nearly everyone in the crowd nodded, or voiced their knowledge of the affair. Falcata continued, “Then I will have you know, Baratus was unjustly banned! He was tested with making a ring to prove his ability, a ring which he made, but never delivered, do you know why?”
Liberath lifted a hand, aiming a spell towards Falcata. Hephaestus took his arm into his own, massive hand, twisting it painfully behind the lord’s back, making him squeal. “If you so much as lift a hand at my daughter,” whispered Hephaestus, “I’m going to rip your arm off, and shove it up your arse, got it, Libby?” Liberath nodded fearfully; Hephaestus nodded at his daughter to continue.
“Thank you. This man,” she cried, pointing towards Liberath, “was tasked with overseeing Baratus’ making of the ring, to prove his innocence! Altara?” she called the woman.
“Yes, Falcata?”
“Did Baratus make the ring?”
“He did, alrighty. A beautiful thing, it was.”
“Was Liberath present when he made it?”
Altara locked her gaze with Liberath, seeing the seething anger behind the lordling’s eyes. Darkly, she said “He was.”
“Right. The official report,” continued Falcata, “was that Baratus refused to make the ring in front of a qualified examiner, thus proving his guilt! But,” she said, walking towards Liberath, “he did make the ring, didn’t he?”
“Listen you fucking whore, I AGH!” he cried, as Hephaestus twisted his arm behind his back.
“I believe my dear daughter asked you a question, didn’t she?”
“YOU AND YOUR DAUGHTER CAN GO SUCK COCKS IN AAAH!” Another twist of Liberath’s arm, another squeal.
“Next time,” Hephaestus said calmly, “it’s coming off the socket, Libby. Now, please, answer the lady.”
Breathing rapidly, looking as a cornered beast, Liberath simply said “Yes.”
“What?” asked Falcata, “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes!”
“LOUDER!” she called.
“YES! FUCKING YES HE MADE THE FUCKING RING! HAPPY? CONTENT!?”
“Thank you,” said Falcata, nodding towards her father. Hephaestus nodded back, releasing the lord. “Who here has the cease and desist letter addressed towards my father?”
The same lanky lawyer from earlier stepped forward timidly. “I... I do, lady. Here’s... here’s the letter bu-but I must tell you, the... lord Liberath, he... he has precedence, he has claim over...”
“Actually,” injected a calmer Talwar, “That’s bullshit.”
“I... beg your pardon?” stammered the lawyer.
“Here, read this,” Talwar said, handing the scans of Bjornson Arms and Armor’s documentation. The lawyer read through them his eyes widening as he recognized their significance.
“But... but these papers... they can only be had by the true owner of the Bjornson brand! How... how is it...”
“Because,” Hephaestus interrupted, “if you must know, my true name is Angus Bjornson, titular and legal owner of Bjornson Arms and Armor, its iconographies, intellectual properties, and anything registered under the name as intellectual property, meaning,” he said turning towards Liberath, “That lordling Libby here is actually in violation of MY intellectual property, as he registered Bjornson Arms and Armor as one of his subsidiary crafting guilds, correct?”
The lawyer glanced at his client, shuddering at the look of hate he received from Liberath, shaking his head, and weakly saying “That... that is correct, sir.”
“So let me see if we understand,” Talwar said, “Not only has lord Liberath registered an already owned intellectual property, he has also caused aggravation to the lady Altara here,” he said, nodding towards the woman, “nearly killed my father, Hephaestus, in a non-combat zone, and been complicit in the unlawful banning of Baratus. Being an administrator,” Hephaestus’ son continued, “those are grave offenses, aren’t they?”
“They most certainly are,” nodded the lawyer, “punishable by banning,” he added, turning towards Liberath, “should you press the issue.”
> “Actually,” rasped Hephaestus, “I am inclined to not pressing matters further, but!” he lifted a finger, his expression stern, “I demand compensation.”
“What manner of compensation?” asked the lawyer.
Hephaestus smiled, “A ring, handcrafted, inlaid with zerolite. A ring, I believe, rests in the lord’s hand at this very moment, doesn’t it?”
Liberath hid his hands behind him, his face pale, his expression haggard as he said “No fucking way!”
“My lord, please,” the lawyer said, “given the circumstances, I must advise you to take the deal, and give mister Hephaestus the ring.”
“Read my lips, you churl: No fucking way!”
“In that case,” shrugged Hephaestus, “I guess we need to take matters to the Game Masters, don’t we?”
“That we do, dad,” said Talwar, “Particularly with regards to the Baratus case.”
“Indeed,” Falcata added, “As I believe Altara,” she said, nodding towards the woman, “deserves both a compensation,” she paused, “and an apology.” Altara nodded in return, silently accepting Falcata’s apology.
A murmur could be heard among the crowd. Mostly, however, they could make out the hushed, fearful utterance of the name “Liberath.” From somewhere nearby, a tall, thin figure dislodged from the rest of people, walking towards the lord. Hephaestus recognized his manservant, reaching towards his master; he whispered something to the lord’s ear, whatever it was, it caused Liberath’s face to further darken. He turned towards Hephaestus, a manic, almost feral look on his face, his teeth bared, his body tense. “FINE!” he spat, “you want the damn ring? THEN TAKE THE DAMN RING!” Immediately, Hephaestus received a trade request from Liberath; he entered the screen, and Liberath placed the ring into his screen. “Well?” he called, “What are you waiting for? Accept it!”
The ring he had placed into the screen, however, was a simple silver and zerolite ring, not the unique one crafted by Baratus. “Come on, Libby,” Hephaestus said, “you know the ring I want.”
“Well,” the lordling spat, “this is the ring you’re getting! Take it or leave it!”
Hephaestus shrugged, “Very well. No deal. I’m not taking the ring, I’m informing your lawyer, and I’m pressing the matters towards the Game Masters,” as he finished talking, he closed the trade screen. “Mister lawman, sir?” Hephaestus said, turning towards the lawyer, “I regret to inform you that I—”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” cried Liberath, “Fine, fine! You win! Just... just drop it, okay? Here, accept this trade request!” The trading prompt appeared immediately within Hephaestus’ sight; he accepted it, and saw another ring placed into Liberath’s screen:
Baratus’ Last Plea (golden hue)
-unique-
Bonus: Health Points +1500
Bonus: All Attributes +10
Bonus: Damage +30
Bonus: Defense +50
Value: 80,000 GP
Description: Let this item showcase my commitment to the craftsman’s trade, for it was made in the sight and presence of a qualified observer – Lord Liberath Saldigraad, whom I give it to in good faith, entrusting that he will pass it on to the right authorities to prove my innocence.
Crafted by Baratus
Hephaestus’ eyes narrowed as he read the description. “You disgust me,” he spat, before asking, “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why did you keep the ring?” asked the blacksmith. “Because of you, a man died.”
Liberath chuckled, “You say that as if I should care about it.”
“You don’t?”
“Hah, why should I? Every person in here is but a character in the game, a nobody looking to escape their sad reality. If said sad reality catches up with them,” he shrugged, “not my problem, is it?”
“Just a problem with your assessment, Libby.”
“What?”
“You, too, are playing this game. Escaping your own sad, shitty reality, are we?”
Liberath’s face darkened, as he spat “You will live to regret this day! You self-important, self-absorbed son of a—”
Hephaestus accepted the trade, cutting Liberath off. “You make me bored, kid. Go and keep playing the lordling if you want, but first,” he said, crossing his arms on his chest, “Get the fuck away from my forges.”
“Forges?” the lordling asked.
“Your Bjornson’s? Legally mine, too. A good thing at that, I wanted to open up another shop.”
“What!? NO! Impossible, that’s not part of the deal!”
“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s part of your cease-and-desist stunt, Libby: You wanted to claim ownership of my forge,” Hephaestus shrugged, “but I’ve proven my own claim against yours.”
“What are you saying?” wheezed Liberath.
“What I’m saying boy is,” he paused, then chuckled, then laughed openly.
“WHAT? WHAT’S SO FUNNY!?”
“What’s so funny? Hey, everyone! This guy just played himself! He wanted to take my forge away, didn’t know I was the owner, and now he’s losing his own!”
Falcata was the first to chuckle, and then laugh. She was followed by Talwar, then Altara, and then the whole crowd was laughing and jeering towards Liberath. “Shut up!” cried Liberath uselessly, his voice drowned by the laughter in the crowd.
When the laughter died out, Liberath stood up, murder written in his eyes. He turned around, and left without saying a word. The lord’s manservant walked towards Hephaestus. “Not gonna say,” he began, “I didn’t enjoy seeing Liberath taken down a peg or two. But I must say two things,” he said, placing his hand on Hephaestus’ shoulder, “One, you’ve made a powerful enemy, and two” he shook his head, “you should have pressed on with the matter.”
Hephaestus nodded, “I thank you for your concern, but as you can see,” he chuckled, “We can handle ourselves.”
“So I can see,” the man said, “Well, thank you for the spectacle,” he said, before turning around. He stopped abruptly, “Ah, by the way, I don’t believe I’ve given you my name?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Right,” he turned around, stepping in front of Hephaestus, “Name’s Ilmer. Call me should you require... assistance,” then he offered his hand to the blacksmith. They shook hands, Ilmer nodded, “Have a good day, sir,” he turned towards Talwar, Falcata, and Altara. “Ladies, gentleman.” He finished by turning on his heel, and starting towards Liberath.
With the show at an end, the crowd began to disperse. Murmurs of Liberath’s misdoings, and Baratus’ banning could still be heard as the area around Hephaestus’ forge cleared of people. Altara was the first to talk, “Well, gotta say, I didn’t expect any of this to happen,” she stretched, feeling her sore muscles, “Y’all came in the nick o’ time, and not a moment too late!”
“Thankfully,” Hephaestus said, “Were you hurt?”
“Me?” she said, blinking rapidly, “nowhere near as badly as you, no! Damn it Hephy, you right and fuckin’ died! Hadn’t it been for Falcata’s intervention, you’d be a goner for sure!”
“Right, about that, Amy?”
“Falcata, dad.”
“Sure thing. Ah, two questions: What did you do, and, so what if I die in a non-combat zone?”
“What I did?” she shrugged, “Used a scroll of revival on you, nothing fancy. And well, if you die in a non-combat zone, you risk popping back up anywhere in this gigantic world…and I mean anywhere. Could end up lost in some mob infested mountains or whatnot.”
“Ych.”
“Mhm. Well, good thing we all came when we did, eh?”
“Indeed,” Hephaestus said, before prompting Altara to trade.
“What is it, Hephy?” she asked when in the screen.
“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, placing Baratus’ ring into his window.
The woman’s eyes widened when she saw the item. “Im
possible!” she gasped.
“Nope. It’s the ring, and it’s yours.”
“Hephy I... Let me pay for it!”
Hephaestus shook his head, “No deal, Altara. The ring is yours by right. It’s what you were after all this time, no? Well, here you go.”
“I... I can’t.”
“You can,” said the smith, “and you will.”
She gritted her teeth, and accepted the trade. She equipped the ring immediately, its shape appearing on her left hand, “Thank you,” she said tearfully.
“It’s nothing,” said Hephaestus, “You helped me get on my feet, and stay on them too. Had to pay you back somehow. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I’ve already gotten Baratus’ forge off your hands, gotta give you something back, don’t I?”
“You big dolt, Hephy, you!” Unexpectedly for Hephaestus, the woman threw herself towards him. He held her in an embrace, staying silent as he felt her sobbing against his chest. After a moment, she stood back; sniffling she said “Thank you too, guys, for helpin’ me in this matter.”
“Right,” Falcata said, “I really owe you an apology, I—”
Altara lifted a stalling hand. “It’s alright. What you did, tellin’ people ‘bout Baratus,” she shrugged, “Consider yourself forgiven.” Falcata nodded; Altara continued “So, what now?”
“Now?” Hephaestus said, “We really need a break! Know any good place to chill out for a while?”
“Hmm, y’know, Hephy I think I may know just the place. Y’all can come by, you know?”
Talwar shook his head, “Myself? I need a nap. Got worked up after that lordling made dad go poof.”
“I go with him,” Falcata said, “too much intensity for a night’s time.”
Altara shrugged, “Suit yourselves. Shall we?”
Hephaestus nodded, following after Altara. He couldn’t help but feel glad that the matter with Liberath had been brought to an end.
True Smithing: A Crafting LitRPG Series Page 23
