*-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*
ARCHIVAL RECORDS OF YEAR 99 OF THE IMPERIUM documented by SCHOLAR QUINTA IN THE YEAR 321.
The Great Daemon was backed into his castra; His legions had been decimated, and the remaining army could not turn the tide of the war. The sky turned grey as the spirit world phased into the real world, and hordes of the Di Manes were unleashed on Solarin's army. This last struggle from Valedara bought him enough time to summon three of the Di Inferii to aid him in his course.
From that point on, the specifics of what happened have been lost and are yet to resurface. The war ended a year later with the defeat of Valedara, as his castra turned into his tomb and then became a Crypt.
The Crypt of Valedara is to be explored, as the requirements for entry are yet to be met.
*-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*
The dead night's air was as cold as a corpse. It was a great contrast to the roaring heat of the forge. The last three nights had been spent within the forges. The efforts brought my weaponsmithing to a point where I knew a satisfactory product was within reach. Enough time had passed, so I returned to the forge.
The academy smithy only carried my blood and sweat during that time of night, but now the forge bore a new presence. One familiar to both of us. Solmir fired up a workstation, bellowing the fires to life. He looked as he did last time. Uninvolved and Indifferent. I could not stare all night, so I went back to my station for my second attempt of the night.
I worked the bellows once more. Pumping coal into the forge, measuring my breath as I did. The fire sizzled with cold ferocity. The fire's core changed to an orange-red, which meant the fire was workable. I scrumbled for the metal from where I had set my tools. The metal was thick and heavy. The books called it Milthor, all while I thought of and called the metal the devil. Each book was misleading; the misdirection became greater the deeper I researched.
I stole a glance at the busy Solmir. His fire's core was already orange-red, but he continued bellowing while adding coal where necessary. He looked like he knew what he was doing, unlike me, yet I yielded to my meager knowledge. From my heap of tools, I picked a new blacksmithing manual. Reread where it spoke about working on Milthor.
'It can't be that bad,' I thought.
I reached for a Milthor's ingot I had set aside. The weight of it was heavy, but it was smooth and cool to touch. Burdened by previous failure, I hesitated putting the ingot into the fire.
"Milthor alone doesn't make longswords," Solmir said.
I turned to see him approach.
"Longswords should be springy so it bends and snaps back on impact, but using Milthor, the sword will be stiff and brittle."
"So it will shatter on impact," I interrupted
"Why are you trying to use Milthor?" He asked.
"I like the water-pattern on Milthor's weapons as per," I pointed at the book.
"Childish," He downed a smile, "Solmir."
I stretched my hand to meet his.
"Cassian."
We shook hands for a while. When we broke off, he moved to my workstation.
"Milthor is great when making short swords or curved blades. It retains the water pattern while also having an exceptional edge and toughness."
I took out my journal. Noting down a summary of what I had just learned. I reached for the book, flipped to a page with a longsword featuring a distinct watered pattern.
"How is this made then?" I showed him the drawing.
"By using two distinct and compatible metals. One dark, the other shiny."
Solmir moved towards the equipment stations at the back of the forge. I watched, tempted to follow, but I did not. He came back to new pucks that I did not recognise. He began taking off his upperwear(shirt and blazer), ready for smithing.
Solmir was three or four inches off my height, hence he wore his weight into thick bulks of muscle that exuded power rather than precision. His knowledge of blacksmithing led me to see him as a tall dwarf. His hair was short, dark, and tussled, while his eyes were dark and endless as the night sky. He wore a commoner's face, seemingly resembling the part he played.
"This," pointing to the dark metal puck," is Harmon steel. On its own, it makes durable and very sharp swords, but when layered with this," he pointed to the shiny metal," Bainite steel, which is very durable and somehow sharp. They make the perfect sword, but it needs a master blacksmith."
"What should I do?"
"Watch and learn," Solmir smirked.
*----*
Solmir worked the forge as I ground all the mating metal surfaces. I ensured they were shiny. Solmir moved back to the station to continue stacking the metal pucks into alternating layers of Harmon and Bainite; one after the other. The stack now held twenty-one layers. He welded the edges of the stack, joining the layers into a billet.
"We do this again so that we can have two billets for two of our swords."
This time I made the billet. Silence had embraced both of us, comfortable with the whispers of the forge and tang of metal on metal.
"The real work begins."
Solmir set the billets into the forge.
"We bring the billets to a lemon-yellow heat, then they will be ready."
My thoughts drew back to Solmir's dossier. Nothing was mentioned of a smithing background, but he called Milthor's Hold home, someone he knew was probably a blacksmith.
"Your father was a blacksmith?" I asked.
"No, my mother actually," Solmir responded, his first smile of the night drawn out from reminiscing. He dug out one billet and then returned it.
"A weird woman she was. She could not cook to save herself, yet she made the best weapons in the city."
"Sounds like a terrible mother, but what do I know?" I said.
"Easy to forget you are adopted. Bummer what happened at the orphanage down in Nighthold," Solmir had drifted back to the forge.
Nighthold? I questioned. My mind cracked, fractured memories painfully sewn back into my psyche, and I remembered something. I was from Nighthold, and it was probably why I was there in the first place.
"It seems you are yet to heal," His words shook me back, but the pain dawdled into a gentle throb.
"Bad memories decay with time, not get better."
My mind wallowed within the new memories; I wanted to dwell on them. Reach back to dig deep and find something, anything at all; however, here was not the place, nor was it the time, so I asked,
"What happened to your mother?"
"She was hung," he said casually as he took out the billets," Slueths found out she made weapons for a rebel cell within the province."
"Slueths?" I asked.
"Palatines. Sanctum bastards. Now we hammer the billets, do as I do,"
Each of us took a billet, then a hammer. I followed him as he set his on the flat of an anvil.
"We now apply quick, light blows to squeeze out any flux. You know flux?"
"I'm aware."
We started from the center of the joint and worked outward. My hammer lacked both weight and precision when we began, but I slowly came into rhythm and gained precision before it was too late. The billets went back into the forge for reheating, readying them for drawing out.
"Are you under their watch?" I asked
"Of course, the academy does not shield us. Most of us bear a non-trinitas virtue or are related to known rebels, and for some, both."
"Like you and Darsius," I said, not asked.
"You know that?"
"I know you both meet at the boiler room below Dorm Noctis and that you are the true leader of the school plebeians, not him."
"You are even more dangerous than I thought."
"I will take that as a compliment."
We took out the billets once more. I placed the horn of the anvil as he did, and we began hammering the billet to draw it out into a long bar. We then used a punch(knife) to press into the billets to help with the folding. We rinsed and repeated heating, drawing, then folding until Solmir said they were ready.
It felt good actually smithing something to life. The crude blades ran their course through the distal taper. The bar slowly shaped into a longsword, gaining structure with each passing moment.
Solmir turned," We forge the bevels, then we work on the heat treatment next time."
Glimpses of gold streaked through the vent gaps. They brought in much-needed light and a strong desire to leave. For the first time in a long while, I yearned for death's cousin, sleep, yet I fought it along with the tiredness. Solmir worked the blade into a counter-bend to get it a slight curve. He said forging the bevels with a slight pre-curve prevented sabering.
"Why were you here?" He asked.
"To get a working blade for the exam,"
Solmir laughed," You don't need to. Rhetor Aelia, let's all nobles pass."
" No wonder the forge is always cold and empty. Also explains the egregious look she pinned on you at the exam detailing."
"You get used to stares and the slurs. It's getting better. The dormanii are dying off fast, but not fast enough. I enjoy every right my ancestors fought for. I can vote, own land, or even start a guild. I hope it gets even better for my children and their children."
"The Imperium runs on systematic oppression. You either become the oppressor or get to love the weight of chains. That will only happen if a new bottom barrel is added. Only then does it get better. The only reason you can do that is because commoners are no longer the bottom barrel."
"So you will be part of the cog. An oppressor?" Solmir asked.
I did not hesitate," Yes, if that's what it takes. I'm not prone to leashes. I am your enemy ever since I got adopted, and I hope we get to fight one day."
Solmir laughs," It's great, I love my leash, that fight might never happen. Let's finish this and call it a day."
I only nodded.
*----*
I banged the door as I entered my dorm. My body was heavy and my muscles cramped. I dragged myself into the bath, settling as soon as the bath had automatically filled.
The weariness had slightly worn off, my body reinvigorated, and I fought sleep. I spotted the letter that had been slid under my dorm. I picked it up. It bore the Valerian seal, A barn owl crested on a crown of thrones. I broke the seal and read the letter as I went to my desk.
I only sighed.
'I will be damned,'
*-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*
TO CASSIAN VALERIAN ATRIUS
FROM GAIUS VALERIAN ATRIUS
Your presence at the estate in Black Hollow. Come prepared.
*-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*