The road leading into the Duram Kingdom was bumpier than I expected. Cobblestone roads gave way to earth paths, and the more you traveled away from the limits of the Sun Empire, the denser the trees grew, like shields of living ironwood. I had gone on ahead of the caravan a day earlier. Merchants were not exactly fast, and I couldn't afford to creep along with them.
By midday, the thatched roofs of Green Leaf Village broke through the underbrush. Smokes curled out of chimneys, mingling with the pungent odor of burning coal. My boots had barely left the trail's edge when I spotted a group of young dwarves in battle.
Two D-Rank Direwolves attacked them, the low growls rumbling beneath the earth.
The dwarves fought with spirit, I'll give them that. Axes rose and fell, shields locked into place. But my eyes were drawn to one girl in particular. A young dwarf wielding a sword, her stance low and measured. Her technique wasn't bad. Far better than the sloppy swings of her companions but she hesitated. Every strike was too cautious, every dodge a step too wide.
Tch.
With a bit more risk, she could have landed the killer blow, taken most of the fight experience to herself. But she allowed the wolves to dictate the rhythm. Her sword clipped fur, but never bit deep. Futile efficiency.
The fight ended eventually, the dwarves panting and cheering over the fallen beasts. The girl lowered her sword with trembling arms, sweat rolling down her forehead. Her companions though not bad for their level, but… not good enough either.
I adjusted my cloak and continued toward the village.
---
Green Leaf Village smelled of metal. Most houses had a forge attached, the sound of hammering echoing throughout the cobblestone-paved courtyard. This was a dwarven village of a dwarven nation. Craft defined existence here.
It did not take me long to find the blacksmith smith I was searching for. His forge was the largest, fire blaring like an animal in its den.
"Come in, stranger," a gruff voice bade even before I opened the door.
The blacksmith was precisely what I had grown to anticipate of a dwarf: short, solid, arms like tree branches. His beard was scorched at the tips, his apron smudged with soot. But his eyes were shrewd, bright and spoke of years of work at the anvil.
"Thrain Ironvein?" I asked.
"Aye. That is me. And you are creeping about in a cloak like a thief?"
In place of an answer, I pulled out the sealed letter. "A message from your friend from the Sun Empire."
His gaze snapped to the guild seal. He accepted it silently. The flickering firelight danced across his face as he read. A grunt struggled through, wedged between approval and amusement.
As he stood lost in contemplation, I called up my Soul Page. A subtle ripple of energy scanned him to know his identity. Only two things made me grasp in wonder.
[Target: Thrain Ironvein – Dwarf Blacksmith]
[Crafting Skill: ★★★★ Unique Grade]
[Ability to Craft: Mid Rank 2 Weapon of Fallen's Standard]
I peered through the hood. So this old fellow can create what I'm seeking… higher than anything I hold currently.
I glanced at my short sword hilt. Its hilt was Peak Rank 1 grade, just sufficient. No wonder it is lacking in battle.
Thrain folded the letter, his gaze refocusing on me. He, unlike others, did not inquire about my covered face. He knew. Even though he did not glance at my rank, he could sense it, the weight of power that I carried.
"I've a task for you, lad," he blurted suddenly, voice heavy with the fire of the forge. "Not of the guild, but mine. Find me some materials. Rewards would be to your liking."
"What are the materials?" I replied numbly.
He chuckled, wiping his hands on the apron. "Three things, all near this village. Bring them to me.
Moonstone Ore – mined from cliffside caverns on the edge of the Verdant Deep Forest. Hard to obtain, glows softly under moonlight.
Ironbark Wood – old Ironbark Tree heartwood within the forest. Tougher than steel, perfect for a hilt.
Bloodfang Wolf Fang – not just any wolf's, but the Alpha that leads the pack deep within the forest. Larger and smarter. It should be of at least B Rank.
He leaned forward, beard perilously close to his chest. "You gather those, and I'll give you a weapon you wish."
The forge spat sparks, lighting the room in scarlet.
I let out a short laugh under my hood. "A hunt, then."
The dwarf grinned. "Aye. Let's see if you're more than a hooded messenger boy."
I spun, cloak swirling after me, and walked back into the village streets.
The forest stretched out across the horizon. Dark, limitless, whispering with hidden horrors. A fine place to get powerful.
And if an Alpha Bloodfang actually did lurk there… then this village would get an education on just how deadly an adventuring cloaked figure was.