Iji unloaded his massive forge and anvil from the wagon, setting them one by one in the square. He kindled the fire within the furnace, and the flames roared to life.
This fire was different from ordinary flame—its heat carried an unusual intensity.
Lucian frowned in thought. Could this be the flame of the Fire Giants?
He quickly shook his head. No. It was more likely some other special kind of fire, perhaps akin to the Redmanes' Flame, rather than the true and forbidden Fire of the Giants.
Though Iji was almost certainly a survivor of the War Against the Giants, his cautious nature meant he would never dare to wield such flame openly. That much Lucian was sure of.
In the game, if one pursued Ranni's questline before the Radahn Festival, Castellan Jerren would remark that Iji was a strange giant—shrunken down, uncomfortable in his form, and endlessly talkative. The truth was clear; Iji was indeed a giant, who had hidden himself by altering his appearance into that of a troll, thus surviving the slaughter of his kin.
This peculiar flame of his must have been something unique, but not the true Giant's Flame.
Iji's deep voice broke Lucian's musings.
"Well then. Where are the materials for the equipment? While the forge is heating, I'll inspect them and decide how best to shape the armor."
He turned toward Lucian, ready to begin.
Lucian immediately sent his Storm Knights to fetch the dragon materials from storage. Soon enough, massive dragonhide and bones were hauled forth, along with chests of gold.
Iji carefully spread the hide open, examining it with a practiced eye. In his massive hands, what seemed enormous to others looked almost modest.
"This is excellent material," he said with approval. "It came from a mature, powerful drake. The scales are intact, and the hide is vast in area. That gives us plenty of room to work with—and even spares left over."
He nodded again. "Uncorrupted as well. That is very important."
Lucian tilted his head."Uncorrupted? That matters?"
In the game, many dragons bore elemental afflictions—ice, rot, magic, and more.
Iji gave a grave nod.
"Flying dragons are descended from the ancient dragons, whose rock-hard scales made them immutable. But unlike their ancestors, drakes are easily shaped by their environment."
"Perhaps because they lack stone scales, they compensate with adaptability. They can quickly attune to the land they inhabit and draw power from it."
"Take, for example, a drake that preys on the sorcerers of Liurnia. By consuming so much magic, it breathes sorcerous flame. Its hide and scales bear traces of that corruption. Such materials are fine for forging weapons… but for armor? Inadequate."
He shook his head. "Armor must be balanced. Dragonhide tainted by frost, rot, or magic is no true defense. It may even harm its wearer—armor that corrodes the body as surely as the Scarlet Rot."
Lucian immediately understood.
So that was why the Dragon Ekzykes, corrupted by Scarlet Rot, would make a dangerous source of armor. Wielding weapons from its remains would spread rot to one's enemies—but to wear its hide as protection would mean inviting that rot onto one's own flesh.
The thought alone made his skin crawl, like ants biting under the skin.
In that light, these particular remains were perfectly suited for armor. Pure dragonhide—untouched by corruption.
"Then, how long will it take to craft the set?" Lucian asked.
Iji rubbed his chin.
"That I cannot yet say. But I can assure you—no more than three days. My hammer is not slow."
"Before I begin, though, I must measure your body. Show me your full size, as it will be when you wield your Great Rune."
Lucian stripped down to a simple waistcloth, then invoked the Great Rune. His body surged in size, larger than ever before, for the fragments of his rune arc had become more complete.
Iji carefully took his measurements, not the precise numbers, but the proportions—the frame, the balance. For Lucian had warned that he might yet grow larger still.
With measurements and Melina's sketches, Iji drafted the design.
The Golden crown, cuirass, and vambraces would be forged with techniques that allowed them to expand with Lucian's body, growing alongside him when he swelled in size.
The dragonhide and scales, however, required a different approach.
Since the hide was so vast, Iji would leave the scales unshrunken. At smaller size, the scales would overlap, layer upon layer, appearing as one. When the body expanded, the scales would separate, sliding apart to cover every inch, never leaving a gap.
Though it meant painstaking work—enchanting each scale individually, hardening them with magic—Iji was not daunted.
When he explained the plan to Lucian, the latter could only nod. He knew nothing of forging, but Iji's reasoning was sound to his ears.
With Lucian's approval, Iji set to work.
Forging was, after all, one of those things that drew the gaze of every man, young or old. Lucian lingered for a time, watching with satisfaction, before leaving to attend other matters.
He had learned enough magic to take the next step. It was time to visit Sellen at the Waypoint Ruins.
After slaying the dragon, he had not even possessed proper clothes, which was why he had delayed his visit. His encounter with Ranni had been a coincidence—he had not expected her to arrive so swiftly.
Now at last, dressed and prepared, he restored himself to normal size and donned his garments. From Iji's wagon he took up a Carian Glintstone Staff, weighed it in his hand—it was light. He tried a Carian Glintblade Staff, only to find it lighter still.
With a small sigh, he settled on the Glintstone Staff.
The Storm Knights were ordered to return the remaining materials to storage. Sorceries and incantations would be distributed: the common ones to his classroom and to Master Thops, while the more advanced Carian spells would be studied elsewhere. Perhaps Thops could use the simpler spells to aid his research into Stances.
Melina led him by grace to a site at the edge of Agheel Lake. From there, it was a short ride to the ruins where Sellen awaited.
He mounted Torrent and rode swiftly. Soldiers along the road paused to salute. Many had never seen Lucian's face, but they recognized his spectral steed at once. Torrent's form was unique across the Lands Between.
Soon, he reached the ruins.
Once, this place had been a great waystation between Stormveil and the roads beyond. Now it lay in decay, overrun with Miranda Sprouts.
The blossoms turned at his approach, roots squirming across the stones, spewing clouds of sickly green pollen.
Lucian swept them aside with his storm, scattering their petals and stamens in a violent whirlwind. The flowers quivered, cowed, bowing before him.
He spared them, deciding to let them serve as guardians for Sellen's dwelling.
As he moved through the ruins, a thought came to him—should he restore the waystations across the land? Most Tarnished could not see Grace, nor travel by it. Proper stations would make moving troops and supplies far easier.
He tucked the thought away, to entrust to Lancelot before departing for Caelid.
That man was capable, if… troublesome. Lucian could only sigh. Lancelot was diligent in his duties, but hopelessly entangled in affairs of the heart—already courting several Tarnished women, claiming it was all true love.
Still, he managed Stormveil well, especially with Lucian so often away. A bit of indulgence in his personal life was forgivable.
Beneath the ruins lay a basement. In the game, a Mad Pumpkin Head had once guarded it. But now, no such foe remained.
Lucian lit the Grace there, then opened the door.
The room within glimmered with the glow of glintstone crystals. Books and scrolls covered every surface, stacked so high the shelves could no longer contain them.
At the desk sat Sellen, face hidden behind her sorceress's glintstone mask, parchment spread before her as she scribbled in constant study.
She lifted her head when Lucian entered.
"It's me," he said first. "The one who freed you from that prison. We agreed I would come here to learn sorcery."
Though he now wore no Storm Knight armor, his voice was the same. And few others could have reached this hidden chamber, past the Miranda Flowers.
"Oh," she said softly. "So you've come."
"Apologies for keeping you waiting," Lucian said with a bow. "I should have come sooner."
"It is nothing,"Sellen replied, voice calm. "Since I took on this body anew, there have been many matters to address. For a sorcerer, such a delay is nothing at all."
"Then," Lucian said with a faint smile, "let me declare it now. From this moment, I am your student. Do we need some ceremony for this apprenticeship?"
Sellen rested her chin upon her hand.
"Though we agreed before, I must ask again. I was exiled from the Academy of Raya Lucaria, as a reviled, apostate witch, for seeking the true origin of sorcery. I am a witch in truth. You freed me, so you know what I say is no lie."
"To take me as master is dangerous. The Academy would destroy not only me, but any who follow me. Once you begin, there is no turning back."
Lucian's answer was immediate. "I will not regret this."
The sorceress tilted her head. "You are certain? The Academy's wrath is no trifling matter."
Lucian only smiled. "What can the Academy do to me? I may be a child in sorcery, but I am a lion in battle."
At that, Sellen gave a faint laugh and nodded.
"Very well. If you are so resolved, then I shall accept you as my student, and teach you the way of Glintstone sorcery. Remember it well: your master's name is Sellen."
Her tone sharpened, almost playful. "But know this—I am no gentle teacher. My methods are strict, perhaps harsh."
Only now did Lucian realize he had never given her his own name.
"Then allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Lucian. I am honored to learn under you, Master Sellen."
She chuckled softly, repeating his name as though committing it to memory. Then she extended her hand.
"Place your hand upon mine. Let me gauge your aptitude."
"Do not worry—even if you are slow-witted, I shall make a sorcerer of you in time. It will only cost more effort."
Lucian laid his hand upon hers, gazing at her masked face. Despite her words of severity, there was kindness in her voice, a warmth he could not ignore.
"My, my," Sellen murmured in surprise. "This is… remarkable. Your talent for sorcery exceeds my expectations."
She had expected a warrior's clumsy grasp of magic, a student requiring years of toil. Yet Lucian's potential was bright, undeniable.
Lucian smiled. "Then I shall not disgrace your teachings, Master."
—
[T/N: The armor set worn by the Nameless King in Dark Souls III is called the Dragonscale Set. This set includes the Golden Crown, Dragonscale Armor, Golden Bracelets, and Dragonscale Waistcloth.]