《Adventurers' Guild Craftsman》


 Chapter 1 – Where am I? Who am I?

    Waking up uncertain where you are is disconcerting. Not knowing whoyou are, well, that escalates things.


    Sounds of nearby construction set a tempo for the pounding in my head, I took comfort that I was lying on something soft at least. Cracking my eyes open, I flinched as the daylight shot a fresh lance of pain through my eyes. I¡¯d found myself in a whitewashed room with a few well-padded beds like my own. It felt intentionally sparse and sterile - if in a rustic manner - but my stirring did not go unnoticed by the room¡¯s other occupant, resting on the singular wooden chair. I placed the guy as early thirties, dressed in a pale robe with a vivid blue sash, he looked equal parts relieved and concerned. My swirling brain offered a single word without context, sage.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯re awake. How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I feel like I drank a keg and then my head got used for batting practice.¡± My weak attempt at humour only seemed to make him more concerned, so I figured I¡¯d best get straight to the point, ¡°I¡¯ll be honest though mate, I don¡¯t even remember my own name right now, so any details you could fill in would be great.¡±


    Whatever response he¡¯d been expecting, it clearly hadn¡¯t been that. Thankfully my headache was starting to ease, unfortunately without bringing any memories with it.


    ¡°Damn.¡± He paused, ¡°Well then, I¡¯m Argat the sage. A pleasure to make your acquaintance once again. You¡¯re within the sanctuary by the adventurer¡¯s guild where you normally ply your trade. That may not mean much to you currently, but you are safe here.¡±


    ¡°Sage? Somehow, I knew that...¡±


    ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s a sign your memories will return with time. Take things slow.¡±


    I was already shifting to sit up in bed, the fading headache didn¡¯t resurge, but it did send a wave of nausea. Oddly, I didn¡¯t seem much higher than when I started.


    ¡°Adventurers¡¯ guild? Was I an adventurer then?¡± That didn¡¯t feel right even as I said it.


    ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re a craftsman. Actually...¡± His expression stayed pleasant, but his brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if straining to see something through me, ¡°I do believe congratulations are in order, at least once you¡¯re feeling better. You¡¯re now a master craftsman.¡±


    He said it with such weight I knew it was some major milestone. Some part of me also knew it to be true, like it fit. Yet, it wasn¡¯t my immediate priority.


    ¡°So, what exactly happened? And you never did tell me my name.¡±


    For the first time he looked uncomfortable, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I only know you as Vaul. In dwarven culture names are composed of several pieces, and perhaps someone else like the guildmaster could-¡±


    ¡°Wait! DWARVEN?!¡± Giving myself a once over for the first time I found a hairy barrel chest and stocky frame, calloused fingers and old burns and scars that told the truth of my craft. My beard was short, slightly singed but satisfyingly thick. ¡°I¡¯m a dwarf.¡± I breathed, almost hysteric.


    ¡°I... Apologies, it hadn¡¯t occurred to me you didn¡¯t know. If you would like to talk about that we can?¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s fine. Probably good even if I¡¯m a craftsman, just caught me off-guard is all. I think I¡¯d better find out how exactly this all happened.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t give a great deal of specifics. You were working with relatively unknown materials sourced from the dungeon monitored by this branch of the guild. It seems there was some sort of adverse reaction as you were processing them, and given your lack of memory it would seem your historical aspect has become severely overstrained.¡±


    ¡°Historical aspect?¡±


    He winced, ¡°You don¡¯t remember about aspects? What about the fundamental resources: spirit, stamina, qi, mana and experience?¡±


    ¡°I mean stamina I¡¯m familiar with, and experience, though a resource wouldn¡¯t be my first way of describing it. I feel like I¡¯ve heard o¡¯ the other terms, but I wouldn¡¯t really say I could define them.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like we should start from the beginning then, but this isn¡¯t something that can be covered inone sitting. For now, let¡¯s start with the widely accepted concept, that sentient life iscomposed of at least five aspects: emotional, physical, vital, magical and historical. Just as someone can expend stamina to plough a field, or in your case forge a sword, which in moderation will strengthen their physical aspect over the long term in exchange for short term weakness, the same is roughly true for the other four aspects and the resources derived from them. Though they each have their own quirks.¡± His smile made me think quirks might be an understatement. ¡°However, just as overwork where you push too far or too often past the limits of your stamina can harm your physical health, overstraining any other aspect has a detrimental effect on the health of that aspect. In many ways the physical is considered the most forgiving in that regard.¡±


    ¡°So, I strained my historical aspect working with unusual materials, and that¡¯s why my memories are messed up?¡± Only the fact the guy clearly seemed to be trying to help, and I didn¡¯t want to accidentally offend him, prevented me from using air quotes. ¡°From the fundamental resources you mentioned, I¡¯m guessing the historical one is experience? How does one even overspend experience?¡±


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    ¡°Essentially yes. Experience is the fundamental resource of your historical aspect; however, it isn¡¯t the only resource drawn from that aspect. Getting into exactly what the others are, and how blended resources work, would be a bit much for right now. Despite all the knowledge we sages collect, we¡¯re only scratching the surface of understanding classes, skills and resources. I¡¯m afraid past the fundamentals there are many theories but little consensus. I can however tell you, that skills which use experience typically help with eitheriterations of the same activity, or applying expertise in one area to related fields. One of the often theorised, but less agreed uses for experience is to advance classes. It would help explain why moments of pivotal breakthrough in stressful situations can feel like a blur after the fact. I¡¯m hopeful your case will be one of short-term strain rather than long-term damage. There are things we can try to help mitigate the issue, and you¡¯re among friends here Vaul, whatever happens you¡¯re not alone. Honestly, given your advancement to master craftsman, you¡¯d be in demand even if there wasn¡¯t a small horde of friends ready to beat down my door wanting to check on you.¡±


    His smile and words were reassuring, but I couldn¡¯t help but think he was forgetting one important thing.


    ¡°But Argat, I don¡¯t remember how to make anything.¡±


    ***


    I¡¯d been doubtful when Argat had decided to bring me to the workshop after apparently passing the word to give me some space, but as soon as we entered it became clear it was the right choice. I was peripherally aware of him giving some warnings about not overdoing things, but my eyes were darting from item to item inside the huge room. I saw the forge and remembered just how the bellows would stoke the flames. I saw treadles and knew how the various grades of grindstone could be connected to one while the other was linked to a sewing machine. I saw a pair of barrels, one overflowing with weapons needing repair, and immediately focused on the bent bronze shortsword lying abandoned on the ground just beside it.


    Everything else faded away as I retrieved the discarded weapon, a quiet anger in my chest at the lack of care and respect. I knew I could fix it. The only question became how? Resting it on a large anvil seemed like the logical place to start ¨C a trivial first step but it lent me confidence. I wanted to fix the warping first, and sure enough there was a hammer nearby, my hand already reaching for it by habit. The heft and smooth wood of the handle just feeling somehow right in my hand.


    In a flash of decisiveness, I brought the hammer down hard on the warped blade. Lifting it gingerly I saw the cold metal had barely moved, but it had moved. It was enough. Over and over, I brought the hammer down, the other arm flipping the blade occasionally as my strikes bent sections a little too far the other way. The clanging metal felt like it reached a constant rhythm, and a satisfied smile split my face as I saw the form return to how I pictured it should be. Pulling the handle close to my face so I could look down the blade I saw a slight kink remained. A few deft blows more and the sword was straight, though the edge wavered.


    Looking over the blade, none would doubt it had seen some repair, but was at least somewhat functional now, if a far cry from good. The edge held several rolls where the soft metal had hit something harder, that would be my next goal. As I was about to step away from the anvil it came to me that the edges of bronze blades were work hardened. It should already be complete, but this would also let be bring the edge back closer to consistently centred. I grabbed a much smaller hammer and carefully picked out more gentle blows along the edge. Raising it to my eye again I was pleasantly surprised with how straight the edge ran down the centre of the blade. With a nod I moved to the grindstone.


    Unsure what grit to use, I kept to the one currently in place, noting I¡¯d have to investigate that later. A thick set of leather gloves and a surprisingly well-made set of glass goggles rested beside the device, and I took the hint andslipped them on. The lazy but steady up and down motion of my feet on the treadle set the stone at a slow spin, but as I carefully pressed the edge of the blade against it, it proved more than enough for the soft metal, work hardened or not. No sparks flew but flakes of bronze were scraped from the edge of the blade. A quick examination once I¡¯d run the full length of each side showed I¡¯d done a thorough job, though it was looking a little wavy. Perhaps a more even pressure or finer grit was needed? Or... suddenly my hand found the dried husk of some sort of plant or vine.


    Flashing through my mind, with a sense of vivid colour none of my memories up till now possessed, images of a reed growing amidst the trees of the wetland nearby flew through my mind. A weed of sorts, I saw it growing through even cracks in shallow stone. It was known by many names, but I knew it best as scouring rush. It could have medicinal uses, though I didn¡¯t know what, but more commonly it was dried and used for scouring as the name suggested.


    ¡°You doin¡¯ alright there Vaul?¡± Argat¡¯s words steadied me, ¡°Looks like you just used a skill. Like I said earlier, probably best to leave that for a day or two, though we can have a chat about your new class if you like?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just suddenly saw all these images and knew all this stuff about scouring rush. Caught me off guard a bit. The rest has been me making best guesses and muscle memory, like my instincts are still there even if I don¡¯t know how I learned them. This was oddly... vivid. Like someone shoved a bunch of information in my head¡±


    It was then I noticed that Argat¡¯s mouth had dropped open.


    ¡°Damn, an appraisal skill. It makes sense for your class now I think about it, and is probably experience based, which mixed in with the memory loss...¡± He seemed to trail off into his own train of thought.


    ¡°Is it good?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, absolutely. Incredibly useful both for your line of work and in general.¡± He chuckled, ¡°The guildmaster will be thrilled if you tell her. And if you reduce the amount of time Kete has to spend evaluating loot, he might just throw you a parade.¡±


    ¡°You say if I tell her?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I should have clarified, as a sage anything you say with me, I won¡¯t repeat. Part of our role is to be individuals anyone can come to in confidence with questions about their class or life in general. Having said that, I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t mention the guildmaster¡¯s hearing can be quite exceptional, and while I doubt she¡¯d act on something she¡¯d overheard shared in confidence out of politeness, I don¡¯t have the usual precautions in place in this workshop that I would have in the sanctuary. Regardless I would advise you tell her at least, even if you for some reason choose to tell no one else. This isn¡¯t the sort of skill one would generally hide.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Could you fill me in on the basics of classes and skills?¡±


    ¡°Gladly, but might I suggest we do it over some food? That looks just about finished and we¡¯re a little after lunch¡±


    Glancing down I saw I¡¯d been unconsciously sanding the blade through our conversation. It felt like there was a bit more I could do, but this seemed like a good enough point to take a break. Setting the blade down reverently on the workbench and returning each tool to its proper place I followed Argat to see what the food was like here. I had a feeling it was going to be good.

 Chapter 2 – The power of good food

    Strolling through the adventurer¡¯s guild at Argat¡¯s side, I was struck by how empty it seemed. Most of those I saw gave a friendly wave or greeting which I sheepishly returned. Given the sounds of construction outside, and how new - and in a few cases, unfinished - everything looked, I was guessing this guild building hadn¡¯t been here long, despite the variety of tools available in my workshop.


    Passing through what I presumed was the main hall of the building; the ceiling double height with stairs to a balcony above and a thick counter dividing a large section of the space, behind which, a lady leaning on cane was sorting some boxes. I was about to stop and offer to help when with a mutter, a jab of her cane, and something turning to powder in her hand, the boxes all jumped to spots on nearby shelving like children hopping into line.


    ¡°That¡¯s Sarala. You should probably have a chat with her before you try any enchanting.¡± Argat advised.


    Most of the wall opposite the counter was covered in rudimentary hangers, a few of which bore little wooden placards of greatly varying quality. Some were finely carved flat sheets with inked velum stretched across them, while others looked like a hacked to size section of bamboo with information crudely carved onto its curved face. Even without touching the bamboo-like plant, I could feel the pull of another series of vivid visions, so I hastily averted my gaze. I wanted to know a bit more about skills before anything else trippy happened. Besides, I doubted that one was intended to be used while walking and the sage beside me hadn¡¯t slowed. Dozens of questions were buzzing around my head, but before I could interrogate him, we passed through a pair of saloon doors and a woman almost half again my size ran forward to wrap me in a hug.


    ¡°Oh Vaul! I heard you were hurt.¡± She loosened her smothering hold to set me down and look at me squarely, while I was rather dazed. ¡°You always work too hard. We¡¯ll get a good meal into you and that¡¯ll help get you fighting fit.¡± Turning to Argat, ¡°If you¡¯d told me he was up, I¡¯da gotten one of the boys run a meal up to him. Ah well, we¡¯ll get you into a seat for now and I¡¯ll have something out in a jiffy. I think we have some of that broth left that you like so much...¡±


    Her barrage of words and motherly concern showed no signs of stopping, and had me quite overwhelmed. Particularly as the woman seemed around my own age. Though, I should probably add asking about dwarven aging and finding a mirror to my ever-growing to-do list. A quick glance at Argat garnered a helpless shrug in return. It took me a second to piece it together, he couldn¡¯t say anything without breaking confidentiality.


    Awkwardly cutting in mid-flow of well-intentioned concern as she practically bundled me into a booth in what I now recognised was a tavern or inn, ¡°Umm, sorry, I don¡¯t mean to be rude miss but-¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s all this miss nonsense? And a polite gent like you could never be rude Vaul.¡± Realisation seemed to strike, ¡°Oh don¡¯t tell me you overdid things with yer historical? Yer always workin¡¯ too hard I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ye. Well, I¡¯m Eimer, and just you wait right there and I¡¯ll get my husband to whip ya up somethin¡¯ that¡¯ll have ye back te normal in two shakes of a blitzgon¡¯s tail.¡±


    She was behind the bar and into the back by the time I fully processed what she said. The woman was a heap of motherly caring and several kegs of caffeine shaken vigorously inside a chatterbox.


    Turning to Argat he smiled, ¡°Yes, that¡¯s just how Eimer is. Though your recent injury and penchant for fixing whatever get broken in here helps.¡± Sure enough, a quick glance around the room showed that in contrast to the pristine newness of the rest of the building, several chairs and windows showed signs of repeated repair. ¡°I don¡¯t expect this to suddenly fix your memory, though I suspect it will help. Her husband is a very good cook.¡±


    ¡°I have so many questions, but first things first; I officially permit you to tell people about my memory loss. That should help avoid some awkward situations in future.¡±


    Argat chuckled, ¡°I suspect Eimer will pass the word to the few who truly need to know regardless, but thank you. Now I believe you wanted to discuss classes? Or has something else caught your attention?¡±


    My desires warred within me, it felt like there was so much to learn. Classes and skills seemed really important, but after what just happened there was something I realised I¡¯d better check.


    ¡°Do I have family here? Or am I in some sort of romantic relationship that you¡¯re aware of?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. Apologies, I probably should have covered that. I¡¯m not sure of your relationship with your family, but to my knowledge you have none nearby. Dwarves are fairly rare this far into the Empire, though the guildmaster likely knows something of your origins. Even learning more of your name would provide you some answers, or at least a place to start looking. And to my limited knowledge you were not intimate with anyone. Though I¡¯ll admit that¡¯s an area where I try to be an understanding ear waiting in sanctuary rather than a nose sniffing around.¡±


    Honestly, I felt a little relieved. That was a level of weirdness I didn¡¯t need to deal with right now. Though I felt kinda bad that I might be somewhat estranged. But given Eimer¡¯s reaction, and Argat¡¯s general helpfulness, it seemed like I wasn¡¯t exactly short of a support system.


    ¡°Thanks, we should probably talk about classes then.¡±


    ¡°The first thing you need to know is that classes and skills are the sort of thing people can be quite private about, though it varies from person to person, class to class and even country to country. There are unwritten rules people generally learn as they grow up, so in the short-term exercise caution about what you ask or share. Most people will understand given context, or will assume it¡¯s a dwarven thing, but adventurers in particular tend to be a prickly bunch with this. Some want to share just enough information to get hired or join a group and coordinate effectively, while giving away as few of their tricks as possible. Others want to shout their every accomplishment from the heavens, and will be offended if you don¡¯t know of them and their mighty skills.¡±


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    ¡°And I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s everything in between those two extremes?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, but don¡¯t worry, most other cases are simpler. Sages almost always share their class, while someone with a bandit class almost never will for obvious reasons. Soldiers are an example that sits somewhere in the middle. Hiding their class from civilians, sharing their general capabilities with their companions, and disclosing their exact class to superior officers who keep it in confidence. Though of course in that case there is also training to consider, which can help mould a class towards a desired goal.¡±


    While I understood his broad points, it felt like every answer lead to more questions.


    ¡°You mentioned class progression earlier, does that relate to training shaping classes? And what¡¯s the general practice for craftspeople regarding sharing classes or skills?¡±


    ¡°What you do, and how you do it, shapes your class and your skills. Over time one gets better at undertaking whatever their class is about, a craftsman improves at a variety of crafts for example. In that case the class grows to fit the new ability, the craftsman might become a veteran craftsman or even a master craftsman. The class helps them do the same thing they have always done, just better, rewarding their dedication. This is commonly referred to as a progression. If that same craftsman decided to only work on smithing projects, then their class might change from craftsman to smith, or even blacksmith. This would make them much better at smithing, but they would get worse at other crafts. So overall the quality of their class could be said to be about the same, it¡¯s just a shift in focus, weighing more of the benefits towards the activities they complete most regularly. This is generally referred to as a side-grade.¡±


    ¡°So, if you spend too much time doing something your whole class could just shift on you? Can classes regress too?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it; side-grades are at a minimum beneficial in the short term, and it¡¯s often easy enough to get another side-grade back to your original direction if that¡¯s what you really want. If class regression is possible, it¡¯s vanishingly rare. However, it¡¯s not uncommon for skills to shift or consolidate after a class change. But I think we¡¯re getting a little off topic, you are known as a craftsman. Most craftspeople keep their skills a secret unless they are needed to advertise a particular service, a tailor might offer rapid resizing for instance. Generally, in the Kaltaran Empire, upgrades and even some side-grades are widely celebrated by craftspeople. Though I should note, I believe the culture in some dwarven holds is to announce and celebrate a new class only when greybeards acknowledge the change in quality of the work. It¡¯s rather like how adventurer grades work now that I think about it.¡±


    This was starting to feel like quite a lot to process, thankfully Eimer chose that moment to return with a small mountain of food. A heady mix of savoury scents washed over me as she deftly unloaded a staggering series of small bowls filled to the brim: mushrooms gleaming in a dark sauce, noodles swimming in a broth that smelt of the sea, rice where every grain seemed individually fluffed, strips of pickled root vegetables promising a satisfying snap, and so much more I cannot do it justice.


    ¡°There you go. There¡¯s a little bit of a lot of things, but they should all help. If ye need anythin¡¯, or want any more, just let me know, alright?¡±


    She slipped away to help a few other customers who had wandered in before I could even thank her. Argat was fervently digging into a bowl of stew, so I felt no need to hold back. Thankfully the muscle memory for the pair of wooden sticks she¡¯d left me was almost as familiar as my hammer. It all tasted as good as it looked, the mushrooms in particular bursting with flavour as I bit into them that offset the saltiness of their sauce. I only slowed down when, finding everything delicious, I devoured beans coated in a red oil which set my mouth ablaze like the forge.


    Argat couldn¡¯t contain his chuckle as heat spread across my face. I felt drops of sweat begin to bead on my forehead and could swear part of my tongue was going numb. A mouthful of cold tea soothed it for only a moment. Yet, it was enough for me to appreciate a pleasant citrusy taste beneath the sharp heat and as I moved to the fishy broth in desperation to quench the fire, I found it was like approaching the dish with a completely new set of taste buds. Satisfying, but in a completely different way. I looked at all the little bowls I¡¯d been sampling from with new fervour.


    ¡°Like I said, he¡¯s a very good cook¡± Argat commented from behind his empty bowl with a hand resting on his stomach. ¡°How are you feeling by the way?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t slowed down as he began to talk, but as I crunched through what seemed like a pickled root which went from earthy and savoury with a sharp bitter snap, to something close to an aniseed flavour, I tried to shift my mind away from how that might now pair with the fishy broth to analyse how I was feeling. My memory wasn¡¯t fixed, but where once there was a giant void where nothing remained, now it felt like there was some cloudiness. Like there were things I knew, I just couldn¡¯t quite bring them to mind. More oddly, I just felt better in about a dozen different ways I hadn¡¯t even noticed were wrong: my shoulder blades felt looser, my breathing felt easier, my eyes felt sharper. No one area was a drastic improvement, but together it had me feeling pretty fantastic, like I could wrestle a troll.


    When I told Argat he nodded sagely (I wonder if they get a skill for that?), ¡°That¡¯s the power of a good cook. There¡¯s a saying that an army marches on its stomach. Not only is good food great for morale, but the buffs a good chef can give across an army can have almost as much impact as a good commander. The same can be said for adventurers of course. Tiring slower, improved night vision, better managing extremes of temperature are all reasons many adventurers take a cook with them on their travels. But give a skilled cook access to a wide range of ingredients and a full kitchen?¡± Argat shook his head, ¡°I¡¯m not surprised if anything made a difference it was this. You might find the fuzziness fades as you encounter things, but don¡¯t try to force it and keep eating here until you feel better. Not that I think that will be a burden to you.¡±


    Polishing off the last of the delicious food, while somehow feeling just shy of overfull, I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Seeing Eimer seat a pair of what looked like soldiers, through the haze of my mind the faces of her kids came into focus. I remembered her scolding them, praising them, boasting about their achievements and basking proudly as others complimented them. If my mind was an empty jigsaw puzzle, it felt like I¡¯d just stumbled upon a single piece.


    After taking the pair¡¯s order Eimer came up beside us, ¡°Feelin¡¯ any better?¡±


    ¡°Definitely better than I was, that was delicious too. I can¡¯t say I remember everything, but the little bits I did remember were important.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Such as?¡±


    ¡°The glue should be ready to fix the stool that got broken the other night.¡±

 Chapter 3 – A place to rest one’s feet

    Argat hadn¡¯t exactly been thrilled at the prospect of letting me go back to work unaccompanied, but he also clearly had more to do than just looking after me. In the end it was Eimer who suggested a solution I was more than happy with. Setting down the broken stool I gave my new furry companion a good pet, much to his delight.


    The appropriately named Taffy was a honey brown, medium sized hound with floppy ears and a seemingly permanent droopy grin. His tail thumped back and forth as he leaned into the pets and scritches, a picture of derpy excitement that warmed my heart.


    Still, I¡¯d returned to the workshop with a mission. Reluctantly pulling away from my affectionate companion, I trod towards a pitted and charred worktop currently bearing a small beaker of white solution. Given the relative newness of the rest of the room, the charred and pitted bench suggested my attempts at alchemy had been eventful. Perhaps failures in alchemy just left more of a mark? Either way, as I tilted the beaker to better gauge the viscosity of its contents, I was glad to be using a finished alchemical today rather than starting something new. It certainly looked suitably gloopy, and I faintly recalled making it as an adhesive for the stool, but all I could really do was hope it would work. I wished I understood it better, and immediately knew I messed up.


    It was like the world zoomed in on the liquid in the beaker I saw flashes of its components, sap from a tree that oozed out then would harden in to a powder that would blow away in the breeze, bones from a plethora of animals, some familiar others not, boiled vigorously before the water cooled, a tiny drop of venom from a stinging insect that made me shiver, combined and allowed to thicken. Flour could be added if needed but would weaken the strength of the bond, it was part chemical hardening part a reaction with the qi in the wood. This batch didn¡¯t need it. And like a diver reaching the surface I gasped as the vision stopped.


    Giving Taffy a reassuring pet I brought the glue over to the stool before beginning to look for clamps and a brush. Argat had warned me that while I needed to learn to use my skills eventually, I should hold off for a few days. Straining my historical aspect further would obviously be bad, but overtaxing the others didn¡¯t sound much better. Apparently overspending qi could literally shorten one¡¯s lifespan.


    A friendly bark directed my attention to a pair of clogs Taffy had pushed over quite adorably while I¡¯d been searching drawers. Slipping my feet out of the sandals I had on, I found the hard wooden clogs surprisingly comfortable, conforming perfectly to the bottom of my feet and supporting just the right places. They might not be strictly necessary for gluing a stool, but I could suddenly see how the hard wood made for good protective footwear in the workshop. Taffy was a smart one. He certainly had a better idea of what was normal than I currently, and I wasn¡¯t shy about praising him for it.


    The stool wasn¡¯t strictly broken, but one of the legs was precipitously loose and the others would benefit from some attention. One of the crossbars/stretchers near the bottom of the legs appeared ready to fall free at a moment¡¯s notice. Dipping the old paintbrush in the thick glue I got to work. Carefully exposing as much of the tenons as possible without pulling the stool apart I coated them in glue. The ends of the stretcher also got a coat before I pressed the stool tightly together and began placing the clamps. Just as I was thinking I could do with an extra pair of hands, a well manicured set adorned with intricate rings that pricked at my appraisal skill appeared, holding things in place.


    Looking to their owner, if I had to sum her up in a single word it was striking. Delicate robes with intricate embroidery rippled across well defined muscle. A youthful face with high cheekbones and intense eyes that seemed to glimmer with gold. She radiated power. The kind of figure blocks of marble hoped the chisel would reveal within them. Yet her face bore a gentle smile and Taffy nuzzled into her side, a character reference that put me at my ease.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Not stopping as I placed the clamps, despite her finery, her actions showed she was willing to help. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m a little foggy on names at the moment, but I appreciate the help.¡±


    ¡°So I heard Vaul, yet you¡¯ve found your way back to your workshop once more.¡± her voice surprisingly soft for someone so physically imposing.


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    ¡°I guess I did. It just feels right somehow. Calming, I guess. Like when I¡¯m doing something with my hands my mind is clearer. Plus, it¡¯s nice to fix things. Lookin¡¯ forward to making some stuff too. But I¡¯m blabbering on about myself, was there something you needed miss?¡±


    She stepped back with fluid poise as the last clamp was placed, ¡°I suppose I should have reintroduced myself, but I¡¯ll hope you¡¯ll forgive me, it¡¯s not often I get to make a second first impression.¡± She gave Taffy a scratch behind the ears, ¡°I am Su of the Lei bloodline, guildmaster of this branch of the adventurers¡¯ guild. As to what I needed, I¡¯m primarily here to ask how you are, and discuss any support you may need. I was going to tell you there¡¯s no need to rush back to work,¡± her smile turned amused, ¡°but I¡¯m beginning to suspect I might need to lock down the workshop to stop you.¡±


    ¡°OH! Uh, please don¡¯t... lady guildmaster?¡±


    She laughed, visibly relaxing as she did so. ¡°Vaul, I¡¯m the last person who would stop you from following your class, particularly when it helps support this branch of the guild. I just didn¡¯t want you to think you had to rush back to work. Take things at your own pace and listen to Argat¡¯s advice. There will always be plenty of work the guild would benefit from, but adventurers can - and generally should - source their equipment elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?!¡±


    ¡°Peace Vaul. I mean nothing against your craft, simply that an adventurer should have appropriate equipment before they stand at the entrance of a dungeon. Much of what we sell are necessities that the inexperienced have forgotten. Moreover, while you craft more impressive pieces, they are often dependent on the spoils retrieved from the dungeon and as such vary in nature and availability. This allows many adventurers to purchase opportunistically as they see something that suits their class, but I would consider it unwise to rely on our small stock having appropriate items for every class or challenge.¡± She took a breath, ¡°The guild¡¯s primary goal in selling items is generating interest in the spoils from the dungeon and discouraging excessive price gouging. Generating a profit is of course a nice bonus, but we make far more by being able to sell the materials from the dungeon and keeping business flowing smoothly. Adventurers rioting because all the rope on sale is five times the market price isn¡¯t good for anyone.¡±


    I winced, ¡°Yeah, a mob of angry adventurers sounds problematic. Would people really be that stupid to... what am I saying, of course they would.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes. Greed has overcome wisdom on a few occasions in the past, hence the guild¡¯s policy. Part of why the clans permit the existence of the adventurers'' guild is to manage such issues and discourage the formation of larger mercenary companies in favour of smaller adventuring groups.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we mostly sell the materials as well isn¡¯t it? Rather than processing all the materials ourselves and having a monopoly, or something damn close, we supply the local economy.¡±


    She gave him an appraising look, ¡°For someone who has claimed in the past to be uninterested in politics and economics you certainly have a fine grasp of it Vaul. Still, I think we¡¯ve gotten a little off topic here. I merely wished to convey my best wishes on your recovery and reassure you that as both a vassal of the Liu clan and an employee of this guild, you have financial and job security however long your recovery. Should you have any issues please feel free to raise them with me. The stamp or seal you created when the accident occurred is in my care and I¡¯ll see about having it properly appraised. Perhaps that will shed further light on how best to restore your memories.¡±


    ¡°Appraised? Actually, I think I have a skill for that now.¡±


    The guildmaster raised an eyebrow as one of her rings glimmered. Taffy on the other hand looked up with a big grin like he¡¯d just been promised a bowl of treats, his formerly wagging tail now almost a blur behind him.


    ¡°Well that certainly is welcome news, though I must apologise for not raising the privacy ward sooner, I wasn¡¯t anticipating a change in skills.¡± She must have read something in my face, ¡°Class too? Goodness Vaul, I¡¯m glad some benefit has come out of this ordeal for you.¡± She peered down to look at the hound, ¡°Now Taffy, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to ask you to step outside for moment.¡±


    With an eager bark he trotted off.


    ¡°Now where were we? Ahh yes, an appraisal skill and possibly a new class, if you feel comfortable discussing it. I doubt many were close enough to overhear ¨C though I confess I¡¯m hoping you don¡¯t wish to keep your appraisal skill under wraps for long - but Kete at least will know and be overjoyed at the news.¡±


    ¡°Argat mentioned him I think. I¡¯m happy to help out, though I¡¯m still trying to get my head round my classes and skills, but who exactly is Kete?¡±


    ¡°I can give you some guidance, however I¡¯m sure Argat has done so already. Kete is another employee here at the guild, teaching everything from survival skills and harvesting, to basic weapons and combat training. He¡¯ll always be a creature trainer at heart though, with Taffy being one of his companions.¡±


    ¡°Well, if Taffy likes him, then I like him already¡±

 Chapter 4 – Skills and Resources

    Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, trying one more time to ignore all distractions and focus within. To focus on my class and skills. It was oddly difficult. I¡¯d caught glimpses of what might have been text before, but they were too brief to be sure. I focused on the worn smooth handle and familiar weight of the hammer in my lap, trying to recall that feeling of bringing it up and down upon the blade and the joy it brought me. I thought of how Eimer¡¯s face had lit up as I took the stool to be repaired. I thought of the blade once cast on the floor now ready for polishing, soon to be used once more. Fixing things. Bringing people joy. Honest work that turned something people saw as worthless into something to be proud of. I may not have my memories, but these things sang to me. They were what I wanted to do. And as I acknowledged that, patchy text filled my vision.


    Class ¨C ___________ Master Craftsman


    Skill 1 ¨C Passive ¨C _________ ______ Crafting ¨C ______


    \Subskills


    Dependent Skill 1.1 - __________ - ____


    Skill 2 ¨C Active ¨C Insightful Appraisal ¨C ____


    Skill 3 ¨C Passive - _______ ________ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____''_ ____ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ _____ - _________


    As seemed to be a theme, more information led to more questions: subskills? Dependent skills? And what was up with all the blanks? As I began to try to memorise it the words faded from sight. Thankfully, they somehow stayed in my mind. I didn¡¯t get it, but I was certainly appreciative. Opening my eyes revealed the formidable guildmaster still waiting patiently before me, the faint shimmer of whatever privacy effect she¡¯d set up still present.


    ¡°I finally got it! The hammer definitely helped, though there¡¯s quite a few gaps.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not unsurprising, some sages have described the act of examining at one¡¯s class and skills as the essence of knowing oneself. Personally, I feel that overlooks much of who a person is, but it¡¯s undoubtedly self-reflective. As such, it is impressive you succeeded with such severe memory loss.¡±


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention that when I failed the first few times?¡± I asked, more curious than frustrated at this point.


    ¡°Sometimes the greatest burden when climbing a mountain is the knowledge of just how high it truly is. Knowing all you can about your class and skills is important. Had I told you from the outset that there was a strong possibility you may not achieve it, your initial struggles may have seemed like validation it was impossible rather than a challenge to be overcome. A hinderance with no benefit.¡± Her golden gaze was intense but her smile was warm, ¡°This guild is likely to be one where many hopeful adventurers will get their start, from farm boys who want you to sharpen their scythes to little noble girls with dreams of punching wyverns out of the air. We may equip, train or even caution them, but doubts they can do nothing about are a useless burden that will only weigh them down. I want them to soar.¡±


    I was a little taken aback at the passion and raw conviction in her quiet words. ¡°That makes sense when you say it. So... do we have something to write this down? With all the gaps it¡¯s probably easier than trying to explain.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to share your whole status Vaul. It¡¯s really not necessary. Some knowledge of your skills is appreciated, and I wanted to help where I could, but Argat could advise you if you prefer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. This far from complete anyway and I¡¯d rather make sure I¡¯m not misunderstanding anything.¡±


    Possibly an impulsive decision on my part, but without my memories I was flying blind and had to trust people. Besides, her friendliness with Taffy and willingness to get hands on to help, even in a small way, had made a good first impression.


    ¡°Very well then, if you¡¯re sure.¡±


    She blurred as she moved around the room and back to the same spot, a curious mixture of items appearing on the worktop. My jaw dropped open at the casual display of superhuman ability as she began slowly grinding a dark cylinder onto a smooth stone with a carved reservoir. This suddenly made sense as in a practiced motion she began dribbling water from a small pot over where she had been grinding, the water turning dark and viscous as it flowed down and pooled. Once a small amount had accumulated she looked up once again sliding across the inkstone and brush. A wooden slat like those hung in the main hall seemed to be the canvas of choice, and once again I felt the prickle of my appraisal skill eager to tell me more about the wood.


    ¡°Sorry, I just... You moved so fast.¡±


    Her laugh was just shy of a snort, I was guessing some sort of etiquette training saved it. ¡°I¡¯m guildmaster.¡± She stated as if that answered everything. In retrospect, I suppose it did.


    Collecting myself I took the offered brush and attempted not to splatter ink everywhere as I trusted in muscle memory to help with the writing. It wasn¡¯t perfect but it felt far more natural than I expected. A few stray drops hit the worktop but the handwriting itself was quite elegant. I had a sneaking suspicion my craftsmanship skill might be helping. Then again, for all I knew I¡¯d been a scribe at one point. That reminded me, I needed to ask the guildmaster about my full name, but my skills came first.


    ¡°Whatdya reckon?¡± I asked as I filled in the last of the details and spun the slat towards her.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A sharp gasp and a smile boded well as her eyes darted back and forth impossibly quickly.


    ¡°Firstly, congratulations on becoming a master. As guildmaster, a blood member of the Lei clan, and as your friend, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the rank. Normally I would assume it should be announced, but dwarven culture handles the declaration of masters quite differently, and I appreciate you may wish to give some time for your memories to return first?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I might have the class, but right now I¡¯m working purely on instinct. I¡¯d like to get a bit of a handle on what I can do before I start bragging about it.¡±


    ¡°A wise choice. It will open a few doors that were once closed when you do choose to declare, but nothing desperately relevant in the short term save for general acclaim. As for your skills, I haven¡¯t heard of insightful appraisal specifically, but any kind of appraisal skill is useful. It may help discern what medium the skill draws from, though I feel unqualified to speculate. Argat should be able to help there.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, What medium it uses?¡±


    She winced, ¡°Ah, that would explain why those were hidden. The last section of each skill lists the resource or medium it draws from to fuel the skill. Sages theorise that these link to the five fundamental aspects of oneself ¨C emotional, physical, vital, magical and historical ¨C though Argat could give better description and there is... considerable disagreement on exactly how everything connects. Perhaps an example of my own might help clarify. I was primarily a combat healer and it¡¯s widely known many of my skills were fuelled by qi. Qi is far from simple, but it is at least widely agreed to be fundamentally tied to the vital aspect of oneself. Literally it is our vital energy, the spark that allows a beaten and broken body to cling to life, even as otherwise healthy people suddenly drop dead without it. By cultivating it my lifespan extends, however I have a skill which consumes it for a burst of healing to those nearby. You will note the resource is linked to the effect. Judging by your expression you also see the danger, while cultivating qi does indeed increase my lifespan, were I to expend all of it I would perish. This is why understanding what resource or medium your skills use is important.¡±


    ¡°Argat had warned me to be careful, but damn that has to be hard.¡±


    ¡°I am well used to the benefits and drawbacks of qi, and it is uniquely effective in a role such as guildmaster given the incentive to stockpile it. Moreover, our vital and physical aspects are closely tied and as you may have noticed I find the difference it makes to my speed quite convenient.¡±


    ¡°Damn, I might need to consider cultivating some qi myself in that case.¡±


    She chuckled, ¡°If you ever truly decide to pursue such, I would be glad to guide you. For now though with only three main skills I would assume most of your abilities have been subsumed by your crafting skill as subskills. It¡¯s possible this happened during your advancement, but is equally possible it was the case before.¡±


    ¡°Not to skip ahead, but what exactly is the deal with subskills and dependent skills?¡±


    ¡°As I understand it the system tries to group relevant skills together, possibly to help them support one another, possibly simply to prevent skill lists getting too long. To take an example I am more familiar with, a mage might know a variety of fire spells: flameblast, wave of fire, scorch, etc. Rather than list each spell as an individual skill, the system might simply list a fire magic skill with each spell as a subskill within it.¡±


    ¡°So my crafting skill likely has a bunch of crafting related subskills like smithing, leatherworking and woodworking.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, some of which may even have their own subskills, just like fire magic could become a subskill of a general magic skill. However, while you can peer into the subskills just as you viewed your main skill list, it does become more difficult for each layer you go down, so you may wish to postpone that. Dependent skills, are skills too distinct to be subskills, often due to utilising a different resource than the main skill, yet also too individually weak or too linked to the main skill to stand alone. Given some of your previous work, I think there is a good chance the dependent skill on your crafting is enchantment related if the main skill doesn¡¯t have mana as a resource.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a jolt of excitement at that, it was already incredibly satisfying to make mundane items, but who wouldn¡¯t want to add a bit of magical spice.


    ¡°Argat mentioned Sarala might be able to help me out with that.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, she has an impressively wide range of experience but has a particular knack for anything magic related. I think you two had collaborated previously as well. Overall, we were fortunate that your unknown skills are passive or are dependent on passive skills. You¡¯ll probably pick them up as you try things and are unlikely to overdraw unless you work yourself ragged. Still, be cautious. How are you faring with your active skill?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m beginning to get a handle on stopping it activating unintentionally, though it seems really drawn to some things in particular and I don¡¯t know why.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Can you give me an example?¡±


    I pointed to the slat I¡¯d written on, ¡°That wood. Most things I need to touch, but that draws me in, even from across the room.¡±


    ¡°Ahh of course. Well, I don¡¯t know too much about appraisal skills, but I do know to make the most out of them you want to gather as much information about the item as possible before you use them, though bad information can have a detrimental effect in some cases. That wood is from a qi rich plant originating from the main dungeon in the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so my appraisal skill likes it because it¡¯s valuable?¡±


    ¡°I suspect it likes it because it recognises it¡¯s a useful material with some interesting properties. Unfortunately, miracle shoots are anything but valuable in the kingdom. In fact they are a cautionary tale about one of the less obvious dangers of dungeons. The roots grow incredibly quickly, converting mana in the air to qi to fuel their explosive growth, reaching maturity within a few days. Even in areas with little light, they grow thinner and taller to reach sustenance faster, and sleeping animals have been found impaled by their sudden growth. Full grown, the top section produces dozens of seeds within and dries unevenly allowing the seeds to explode outwards. This poses little risk to journeymen adventurers, but the force is sufficient to be a danger to civilians, and the seeds spread rapidly along waterways.¡±


    ¡°Someone took some seeds from the dungeon, and they became an invasive species...¡± I murmured horrified.


    ¡°It¡¯s unclear - and at this point frankly immaterial - if it was intentional or if seeds clung to the perpetrator''s clothes. It led to the fall of one of the great clans when the mistake was traced. Miracle shoots are used for everything from small currency, to writing, to immature versions even being used in cooking. However, while their properties may be useful, they are primarily used because the empire is mostly wetlands, and as such outbreaks of miracle shoots are both constant and culled. The emperor and the clans can ill afford the shoots to overtake land needed for farming or other purposes, thus their harvesting is encouraged.¡±


    ¡°That was... more than I bargained for. At least I don¡¯t need to worry about potentially wasting the wood I suppose. I¡¯m guessing we have steps here to prevent a repeat of something similar occurring from this dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Kete can give you the details once Argat clears you to use your appraisal skill. Assuming of course you¡¯re happy to help with processing the spoils from the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°It certainly sounds interesting and might help with finding things to work with.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it. Kete has been somewhat overworked of late, and your skill will help ensure we can pay a fair price for our adventurers¡¯ labours.¡± She cocked her head infinitesimally, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I am needed elsewhere Vaul. It was good talking with you, and I¡¯m glad to see your recovery is progressing. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t stay longer or be more help with your skills.¡± So saying, she picked up the wooden slat and a burst of golden flames rendered it to a fine grey ash in an instant.


    ¡°Oh, uh no problem. Thanks for dropping by...¡± I looked up from the pool of ash and she was gone, as was the shimmer of the privacy field.


    Taffy plodded over and rubbed against me reassuringly as I heard a distant cheer.

 Chapter 5 – Taking Stock

    With the rest of the afternoon to myself ¨C save, of course, for Taffy¡¯s reassuring presence - I investigated the workshop. Perhaps there were other projects like the wood glue already underway. If I could find records of what I¡¯d been working on, it would simplify so much.


    The alchemy area where I found the glue appeared surprisingly clear, if a little charred and pitted. However, within some drawers nearby I found thin strips of miracle shoot bound together with tine, like wooden scrolls. Unrolling them revealed not an order list, but possibly even more useful, recipes. A cursory inspection of the rest of the drawers revealed more for various basic concoctions, tinctures and pills. Some notes on the ingredients list were clearly added retrospectively and I could only hope I¡¯d already begun the process of working out which local ingredients could be substituted into the standard recipe. I tried not to be distracted but couldn¡¯t help a second glance at the various mortars and pestles as well as knives of all shapes, their spectrum of gleaming metals sparking vague memories of testing what was inert with different compounds. There was a surprising amount of glassware, even a still with a frankly intimidating amount of looping glass pipework, though I hoped would make more sense once I¡¯d tried a few simpler recipes. At least it was clean and empty for now. I¡¯d tackle that challenge another time.


    Walking around the large room I was once again taken aback at the sheer quantity and variety of equipment present. It felt more like a workshop for a dozen people than an individual. Cupboards that I thought would be full of materials or ingredients instead revealed more tools, and reassuringly, the occasional wooden scroll. A connecting room led to a vast warehouse where most of the materials were kept, though buckets of clay and sand as well as a few heavy looking ingots rested by the forge. I thought I¡¯d found a partially started project when I spied a circle of wood resting on a bench across the room, however the gleam of a latch and the reveal that it was actually two tightly concentric circles of wood put doubt in my mind. Picking it up, the term tambour floated from a subconscious itch into my conscious mind, along with the knowledge that it had something to do with embroidery. Perhaps used to stretch the fabric? At least I had a place to start and getting this wrong was less likely to accidentally poison someone or cause an explosion. Yet, somehow I doubted embroidery was an urgent project. At least, not in an adventurers¡¯ guild.


    Tools for fabric and wools, one of which looked amusingly like a spinning top, flowed into those for leatherwork. Needles remained throughout, but rounded points to slip between fibres gave way to those sharper and more blade like. There was a wooden board among the leather with sketches for a leather cuirass or bodice. It appeared overly form-fitting for the former yet was clearly designed for protection, so I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to define it. Perhaps there was a word I didn¡¯t yet remember that could perfectly describe it. Regardless, the design was clearly missing a lot of details. At the very least the lack of sizes was an obvious omission, but in general the design had a feeling of roughness, more like putting charcoal to wood on a concept than writing a technical plan. Though why one would ever want armour with unnecessary convex angles that would draw a blow into your chest was beyond me.


    Checking the barrels of weapons by an open hatch, one overflowing, the other barely half full proved more illuminating. After exploring some documentation nearby (mostly written on miracle shoot slats once again) as well as the labels on the barrels, it became clear this was a drop off point of sorts. The overflowing barrel was for weapons owned by the guild that were rented out or used for practice, or simply weapons so badly broken their owners sold them. The half full barrel was weapons owned by others submitted for sharpening or repair and each bore a small tag of wood noting their owner. The quality of those in need of sharpening varied concerningly, some as sharp as could be expected without a proper grindstone, others dull as a club or pitted and chipped to the point of being barely salvageable. The spots of rust on some of the iron or steel spoke of poor care. Bronze both was less susceptible to corrosion and lost its edge faster, so likely received maintenance more frequently, and yet much of it had faded to a dull brown flecked with green. The patina would protect the metal beneath, unlike rust which would eat through, yet I couldn¡¯t help but feel the lack of waxing to prevent such spoke of a lack of respect the wielders had for their weapons. Tutting to myself I decided the barrels were as good a point to start as any, but I¡¯d give preference to those who had shown the most care for their weapons. From a practical perspective they would also take the least time to bring up to standard, though I wouldn¡¯t pretend pettiness wasn¡¯t the deciding factor.


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    Fishing out the handful of guild-owned blades that just required sharpening to start, assuming it would be less of an issue if I misjudged the grindstone for those, I set to work. Setting the pile by the bronze sword still in need of polishing I took the time to more closely evaluate the grindstone options. It would seem I had been using the finest grit previously, which made sense in retrospect as it would always be the grit one finished on, perhaps I had simply applied too much or uneven force with the sword earlier? It wasn¡¯t bad per say, and was certainly useable, but I wanted to do better. Knowing there was only one way to achieve that, I picked up a bronze axe and set my feet to the treadle.


    ***


    There weren¡¯t too many bronze weapons in need of sharpening, so I was surprised to look up and see the angle of the sun distinctly lower than when I¡¯d started. Savoury smells were also beginning to waft in from afar, no doubt drawing a dinner rush for Eimer. Despite my rumbling stomach, I wanted to try and get the weapons polished and waxed so I could consider them truly ready. I hadn¡¯t found either in or around the alchemy station but given the scouring rushes were near the grindstone, it didn¡¯t seem unreasonable that such things might be too. A short search later and my hope was rewarded. As I began rubbing the rag dipped in polish in small circles that brought a shine back to the sword I started with, I considered what I had learned. Firstly, I should have started with an axe. Axes were substantially easier to sharpen than swords, partially because of the shorter blade length, and partially because it was easier to keep a grip on both sides. Though given how heavy duty my gloves were, perhaps I was being a bit overcautious with my grip on the blades? Bronze yielded deceptively easily to the grindstone, keeping the pressure smooth and even was the true challenge.


    Though as I began to polish the next blade and saw its subtly different shade and sheen another complication became clear, bronze was not all the same. I had thought some felt different on the grindstone than others, but I had not fully considered that bronze, as an alloy, would vary. I had a feeling in the dwarven holds things might be more strictly categorised, metals purer and alloys more precisely mixed. But in a country that was mostly wetlands, even the purity of an ingot of copper was in question. Though I had a sudden recollection that tin impurities in copper were how bronze was discovered in the first place. Ironically, that only served to illustrate how significant the impact of small impurity could be. Feeling a little dumb given the subject of most of the day¡¯s discussions, it finally occurred to me that skills likely played a part as well. Skills of miners, smelters and smiths could all have an impact on the final product. Once I started working with steel, something called finers would too. Utilising the skills of those earlier in the production chain could be a real game changer, and another half dozen questions made the top of my list for Argat.


    ¡°Damn kid, lost all yer memories and yer still back here before dinner, tryin¡¯ to make loaner equipment fit for the emperor¡¯s palace.¡± I might have taken exception to the kid comment, but the grey-haired man in the doorway personified the word grizzled. Crisscrossed with myriad scars, missing an eye, and leaning confidently against the doorframe, I figured this dude called everyone kid. ¡°I¡¯d tell ye the bronze stuff is mostly used by newbies who barely know which end is the pointy one, so ye don¡¯t need te be so pernickety, but it never stopped ye before. I¡¯m Kete by the by, glad to see you up and about again Vaul. Now, let¡¯s grab some grub before you inevitably lose track of time and start workin¡¯ into the night again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad surely.¡±


    ¡°Oh? How long do you think I¡¯ve been standin¡¯ here then?¡±

 Chapter 6 – Settling In

    The next few days did little to restore my memory, but were a big step in helping me find my feet within the guild once more. For all Kete¡¯s intimidating appearance and gruff demeanour, the veteran adventurer clearly had a caring personality. Where Eimer showed her care through copious quantities of exceptional food, Kete showed his through blunt comments and his willingness to give of his time - not that many of the greenhorn adventurers he led through weapon drills appreciated that. Ironically, he¡¯d be the first to call me out if I was overdoing things. It seemed the requirement of the rental equipment to be of decent quality versus my perfectionist nature was an old argument of ours. Frankly he had a point, painful though it was to admit. This became easier when while dropping off some of the gear, I overheard him lambasting an adventurer, pointing out if they didn¡¯t take care of their equipment, they couldn¡¯t rely on it to take care of them. Though his explanation of the precept involved a lot more swearing.


    With Kete busy between instructing new adventurers and appraising dungeon loot, I only saw him briefly at meals in the few days after losing my memories. He did however ensure I had plenty of company. Taffy frequently joined me, though he wasn¡¯t a fan of the loud grinding or cascade of sparks thrown when some of the better steel was put to the grindstone. Eimer confided that Kete had been the one to find me when I had collapsed, thanks in no small part to Taffy, and I think they were concerned it might happen again. I was even reintroduced to the proudest of Kete¡¯s animal companions, Xiu. To say Xiu appeared to be an ordinary black cat, while in some ways accurate, would do her a grave disservice. The only thing average about her was her size. Her coat flowed, silky and black as the finest ink, always immaculately groomed without a hair out of place. Cats walk or trot, Xiu glided on four paws. People joke that cats think they are the pet owners; as that tiny ball of elegance looked around and sniffed upon entering my workshop, selected her perch atop a workbench, and gracefully curled up before meeting my gaze and giving a nod as if to permit me to continue, I understood. Xiu believes the world hers by right, she simply deigns to allow others to live in it. She¡¯s also fluffy and adorable.


    As I worked my way through the barrel of equipment over a few days I didn¡¯t see the guildmaster again, though that wasn¡¯t really a surprise. I assumed her work and whatever politics the Liu clan stuff entailed would keep her plenty busy, but as Argat filled me in on some of the ¡®fundamental resources¡¯ I discovered cultivating qi requires a lot of time spent in meditation. I fervently hoped that qi wouldn¡¯t be something I had to deal with for that reason, sure it may extend your lifespan, but what¡¯s the point if you spend most of your time meditating? I got pretty in the zone when making things, so if that could count as meditation I¡¯d be totally down for it, but I doubted it was that convenient.


    Surprisingly, I didn¡¯t see too much of Argat after the first day. He made time to fit me in where he could, but between adventurers and the construction crew finishing the rest of the outpost, there were plenty of injuries for him to treat, as well as many seeking advice regarding classes and skills. The guildmaster only stepped in to heal injuries that were both recent and major - which were thankfully uncommon. However, while there were plenty of people who could bandage a wound, Argat got a visit for anything that might take more than a day or two to heal. Apparently having a skill that made those who had been under your care heal faster, made you popular ¨C who could have guessed? More seriously, Argat told me one of the duties of sages was to help limit the spread of plague and infection. While I didn¡¯t really get how all that stuff worked ¨C nor did I really want to ¨C I was all for stopping it spreading near me. So, when a session got cancelled just as it was about to start by a kid rushing in saying something about a burn and a dropped punty, I left him to it. Though I did wonder what a punty was and why it sounded so damn familiar.


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    My memories seemed to be staying stubbornly absent for the most part, though now and then something like the metal ingots would spark a recollection of how things were different here, presumably to the dwarven hold I grew up in. Apparently older memories sticking better wasn¡¯t uncommon, and frankly at this point I¡¯d take whatever I could get. At least I was gaining some confidence as I worked with the weapons that a lot of my muscle memories and knowledge were still present, I just had to rediscover them. It might just be my crafting skill putting in a lot of work, but either way the effect was the same. Argat had mostly agreed with the guildmaster that I was unlikely to overdraw anything while just using my passive skills, and tomorrow I¡¯d have the all-clear to join Kete evaluating the spoils from the dungeon and testing the limits of my appraisal skill.


    Returning to the workshop I passed by a young builder running back outside, clutching a box of nails. He didn¡¯t even pause as he rushed past jabbering breathlessly,


    ¡°Hey sorry Vaul had to borrow some nails payyoubacklaterbye!¡±


    He was gone before I could even fully process what was said, and I mentally added forging more nails to my to-do list. It would probably be a good reintroduction to the forge, though I¡¯d have to work out exactly how to make them. Maybe casting? If so I¡¯d definitely need to be making more than one at a time.


    Sticking my head through behind the counter in the main hall I managed to catch Sarala¡¯s eye just as she looked up from a document, letting a pair of finely wrought spectacles hang from a chain around her neck. While what just happened was probably fine, I figured I should double check and get a gauge on how common it was likely to be. While I hadn¡¯t had much occasion to talk to the older woman yet, she was happy to help.


    ¡°The workers are in the employ of the Lei clan, so lending some nails should be no issue. However, them wandering unaccompanied into the storeroom sets a poor precedent.¡± The thoughtful purse to her lips disappeared, ¡°Leave this to me. I¡¯ll have a few discreet words to ensure future requests are made to you directly, and that nails were all that was procured.¡±


    She set off at a surprisingly brisk pace despite leaning heavily on her cane, offering a quick apology to the other gentleman behind the desk before heading further into the staff only area of the guild to my surprise. I¡¯d offer to help the man but without any idea what to do I¡¯d be more of a hinderance. Thankfully most adventurers were actively out completing quests or delving into the dungeon at this time of the afternoon, with only a few trickling back in to report completion. Deciding the best thing I could do would be to get back to work, I returned to the workshop.

 Chapter 7 – A Glaive Duty

    The repairs barrel had a few final pieces of equipment I wanted to restore before I was occupied with appraisal tomorrow. Donning my leather gloves I veered into the storeroom. The haft of a glaive had snapped, and while the owner had managed to collect most of the splinters, replacing it would be both simpler and yield a better result. Even in a normal case, gluing something back together would create a weak point, but this glaive had clearly seen plenty of action before it had broken. The haft was filled with chips and gouges where attacks had been blocked. As much as many people didn¡¯t show weapons the care they deserved, others formed a deep connection with them. Sometimes this was simply that they had kept them alive so often, other times they were a gift from a family member or friend, and finally, some even received benefits from their class for using a particular weapon. If the latter was true for this individual, he hadn¡¯t mentioned it. He had however mentioned he was a qi user. While Argat still had plenty more to teach me about classes and resources, knowing my interest was crafting he often approached the topic from that direction. Qi flowed most easily in living things, but failing that, something that had recently been living and maintained a similar structure was the next best thing. Hence, I began browsing through the various timber options in the storehouse for something to turn on the lathe, desperately hoping one of my skills would give me a nudge in the direction of a block about the right size that would handle qi well.


    Unfortunately, while there were plenty of planks - although far fewer than the space allotted would accommodate, which turned my mind briefly to the builders once more - the selection of wooden beams and blocks was somewhat more limited. If I thought there wasn¡¯t a good chance the wood glue would inhibit the flow of qi through the glaive I¡¯d try to put the shattered haft back together again, but my limited understanding from Argat¡¯s descriptions, and more importantly my instincts, were screaming that was a bad idea. So here I was looking at wooden beams, not quite sure past general size what I should be looking for. Maybe the wood grain? That sounded like the sort of thing that could impact qi flow... Not like I knew which way I wanted it if it did. I just squeezed a wooden beam, what exactly did I think that would tell me? It¡¯s hard, go figure. Just as I was thinking I might need to try using a few appraisals I saw it, a little long with the perfect width nestled in a big pile with all different shapes and sizes. A miracle shoot.


    One of the few things I knew about the plant was it naturally utilised qi. Sliding the bamboo-like rod free from its less usefully shaped kin, I evaluated it critically. This shoot had grown tall to seek light and had been cut down before it could fully widen, the remains of shoots where leaves had begun to grow still visible, but easily trimmed. The hole through the middle of the shoot to draw up water appeared slightly smaller than the tang of the glaive. That the glaive even had a tang felt slightly off to me, though the word naginata echoed softly at the back of my mind. The tone more of a question this time, rather than the usual confidence. Still, only comparing the tang and shoot side by side would lend certainty that the tang would fit, so I returned to the workshop, noting how my hand curled comfortably and securely around it¡¯s girth. The length did make doorframes something of a challenge though.


    Setting the shoot down beside the broken staff, I confirmed it was about half again as long. The original shaft felt a little short, just under 6 feet by my guess, which may have contributed to it taking so much abuse. Lacking the reach to keep foes at a distance, the wielder would be forced to block strikes with the shaft more often, using the weapon more like a quarterstaff when foes closed. Following this train of thought I looked to the base of the old staff noting that it wasn¡¯t butted but a ring of discolouration and sheared wood suggested it may once have been. Still it wouldn¡¯t do to make the new shaft overly long either. If the owner of the glaive was used to a shorter haft, adding too much length could throw off their fighting style.


    Carefully picking up the separated blade I was able to confirm I¡¯d judged the diameter of the shaft for the tang nicely. My care when handling it wasn¡¯t purely a respect for the blade, I¡¯d already sharpened it¡¯s edge. Gripping the tang rather than dealing with the long haft made the sharpening process much easier, but added complications now. In retrospect I wasn¡¯t sure it was a good trade-off, but I could offset it somewhat, grabbing strips of scrap leather to wrap the blade.


    To my knowledge metal wasn¡¯t particularly good at allowing qi to flow through it, but unlike the shaft there were precious few good options that could hold an effective edge. Sometimes it was just more effective to use the best material for the job, the gains lost from resource efficiency more than made up for by material quality. Mages had it rough in that regard. Apparently, there were a small handful of metals that truly hampered the flow of mana, but one was iron, and by extension steel. At least cobalt and nickel didn¡¯t seem so common, though who knows what applications I¡¯d forgotten.


    Returning my mind back to the project at hand as I finished wrapping the blade, I recalled the jet of sparks it had thrown on the grinding wheel. I didn¡¯t remember why but more sparks correlated with better steel in my mind. Maybe it sparked more because it was harder? Something to do with a difference between iron and steel perhaps? It felt like the answer was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn¡¯t quite find it. What I did find however was that my appraisal skill wanted to activate on the blade.


    It was perhaps not my wisest move, but it tantalised with an answer to a niggling question, so I gave in and let appraisal activate. I¡¯d be using it plenty tomorrow anyway, so once today couldn¡¯t hurt? A circular clay pillar radiating fire flashed into my mind. A bloomery. I was inside it. Scouring flames melting iron and charring bone. So many bones. Yet somehow, even as the bones powdered, the iron was becoming steel. I could feel with certainty that when it cooled it would be harder and that qi would flow slightly easier within it, even if I didn¡¯t know why. Then with a gasp, the vision was gone.


    I could feel the sweat running down my face and back. The heat hadn''t hurt, but I¡¯d felt it, felt something absorbed by the blade in the smoke and flame. There was something missing from the bloomery but I couldn¡¯t remember what, and yet the bones felt out of place. Had they replaced what was missing? My skill tickled at me, tempting that there was still more to learn if I used it once more. I was still breathing heavily, the sweat stopped pouring but I felt unpleasantly damp and shivery. I¡¯d be a fool to press further, but I was oh so tempted. I wanted answers. If I could only remember what I had forgotten.


    No. I could work this out. I had enough information, I just had to fit the pieces together. The fire burnt the bones and the iron... became steel! That was it. I was missing what apart from the heat made iron steel, unless it was down in the blazing coals? For now I¡¯d assume the bones replaced whatever it was, they had to be doing something. That would explain why once it cooled the metal would be harder, but steel shouldn¡¯t be any better than iron with qi flow. Bones were once living and so qi would flow easier in them, but in their charred state that hardly mattered. They certainly hadn¡¯t become an integral part of the glaive before me. Perhaps it would come to me later, at least I¡¯d solved one mystery, and confirmed qi should indeed flow a little better in the blade than regular steel. Though as I thought back to that certainty of the blade¡¯s hardness, something felt a little off. Not wrong per say, but like it was a little too focused on one thing. Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t know enough to mess with it right now, particularly on someone else¡¯s weapon. But someday I would.


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    For now though, I was measuring. String, ruler and charcoal in hand as I marked out a length a little over six feet in the middle of the miracle shoot. A bit longer than before but hopefully not too much. Setting the measuring tools aside after double checking once more I put saw to wood, hewing off either end to leave a haft with a consistent cross section. Sharp as the saw was, it still took some effort to cut through the miracle shoot. A smile stretched across my face, I wanted this to be durable. There was some flex in the shoot which I suspected was less desirable, and made keeping the cuts straight more awkward, but I managed.


    Now for the trickier part. Measuring the dimensions of the tang and marking out the position of a slot for it. I also took note of the position of the two holes for pins within the tang for later. The gap in the centre of the shoot for the flow of water would make beginning to carve the slot slightly easier, but also meant the wood either side of where I carved would have to bear more load. With the dimensions marked, I locked the shaft in a pair of vices. I took a deep breath, lifting a tiny chisel and small hammer. Slowly I began carving way sliver after sliver of wood, being careful to stay within my marked guidelines. I needed this to be straight and precise, otherwise the blade would be loose or at an angle. Only once I had one side carved did I take another deep breath, allowing my hands to shake for a moment. It looked good I thought, maybe a fingernail too thin or deep but either of those would be better than the alternative. Then I began mirroring it on the other side. Tiny ribbons of wood falling with each blow of the hammer upon the chisel. Each producing a jolt of panic as I wondered it this one had strayed, then satisfaction as I confirmed I had not. In my periphery I thought someone came to the doorway, but this required all my focus. My strokes seemed cleaner, more controlled. I dared not stop. And then it was done.


    A critical eye compared each side of the slot, identical, straight and aligned. Concern faded to contentment, only for me to realise now was the real moment of truth. I lifted the blade and pressed it to the slot. It didn¡¯t fit. I brought my eye close; it was only a hair off. But If I carved further, would it be central? I probably should have intentionally cut it a little small then adjusted after a check in hindsight. I didn¡¯t want to make it too loose, could I just force it? Trusting the leather wrapped around the blade and my thick gloves, I aligned it as best I could and applied some pressure. It wasn¡¯t working! Keeping up the pressure I shimmied it very slightly and saw fibres on the edge of the slot begin to roll underneath. Then it slammed home.


    I jumped back feeling a prick of pain. Glancing down I saw the very tip of the glaive had worked itself free and managed to pierce my tunic. For a moment I thought Id gotten away with only a minor wardrobe malfunction, before, barely visible through the hole, a tiny crimson blob began to bead. I sighed, it wouldn¡¯t be the worst stain, but I¡¯d need to get it cleaned up before anyone overreacted. By unconscious instinct I glanced by the forge to where a thick leather apron hung. Yup, that would have been useful, but I¡¯d know for next time. For now though, I wasn¡¯t going to let a small prick of pain stop me from enjoying the sight of the tang fully sheathed within the haft. Now I just needed to get it pinned. Deeply glad I¡¯d had the foresight to note down how deep along the tang the holes were, I began to carefully mark the spots that needed drilled. Truthfully, the head may be tightly enough affixed that this wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, but having seen damage accrued by adventurers¡¯ weapons, erring on the side of caution seemed prudent.


    With how well stocked the workshop was, I was surprised to only find three sizes of bit for the u-shaped hand drill after rifling through several drawers. I suppose the theory may have been that I was capable of making more if needed. Not that I had any confidence of managing that particular feat right now. Still, it did make the choice of bit much easier, simply choosing the option that was neither obviously over nor undersized. Careful to locate the tip precisely on the marked point perpendicular to the wood, I applied pressure and began to crank the handle. Wood flaked and yielded easily making me wonder if there was more to those drill bits than met the eye, even as I savoured the intensifying fresh scent. It felt oddly... nostalgic? Something to unpack later as the tip broke through the wood into the gap before the tang.


    Cautiously removing it I took a moment to inspect. The hole was thankfully straight and aligned well with the hole in the tang. Unfortunately, it seemed the bit I had used was slightly larger than that hole. A cylindrical pin straight through clearly wouldn¡¯t quite work, but perhaps something slightly tapered? Unfortunately, the only smaller drill bit was truly miniscule, so I doubted I could have it pass through both sides. Or at least if I did it might be more of a weakness than a benefit. With a plan in mind I drilled the other hole, finding to my relief that it was likewise aligned.


    As I was about to look for something to make the pins with, I noted some of the smaller fragments of the original haft. The wood didn¡¯t prick at my appraisal skill like the miracle shoots or head of the glaive, but it appeared to be a robust hardwood which made the haft¡¯s final state all the more remarkable. Finding a couple of likely sized pieces, I trimmed some of the extraneous material with a knife to get a flat section on either end before bringing them over to the lathe. Where the trimming had been slow, the lathe was fast. I barely had it set up and put my feet to the treadle before I¡¯d carved off a ribbon of material to reveal the cylinder, then added the taper with another pass. Frustum? Much as I¡¯m glad for the knowledge that sparks back to mind as I do things, sometimes I wish it had a little more context. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was the name of the peg, the process, or something else altogether. Whatever it is, I had my second peg made in short order. Ready to finish the assembly, or so I thought.


    I had just confirmed at the glaive that the pegs were indeed about the correct size and was about to pick up a hammer when the sense I was forgetting something hit me. Taking a moment to think of the steps I was about to take I couldn¡¯t think of anything obviously wrong. Hopefully that meant there was something that would yield a better result rather than me missing a necessary step. There was still a small gap visible where the rectangular tang didn¡¯t fill the circular opening of the miracle shoot but that could be covered later if needed. I already felt I was taking quite a few liberties with this repair. If the pegs were the wrong material or the wrong general shape, I felt like I would have been prompted earlier. Did they need to be treated in some way before insertion perhaps? But to what end? Increasing grip would obviously be beneficial and I could add glue to help it bond to the haft but that may interfere with the qi flow. Also, then the pegs couldn¡¯t be removed making any later replacements of the haft or maintenance more difficult. If the alchemical method wasn¡¯t the solution, perhaps there was a mechanical one? Greater surface area would provide more grip.


    Not entirely sure I had found the correct solution; I took my knife and began carving small grooves along the pin. I tried to keep them as straight as I could though I wasn¡¯t sure if there was a better pattern or if that even mattered. I was halfway around the first peg when I considered that I could have simply abraded the surface to make it rougher. Ah well, too late now. Deciding to try hammering in the first before repeating my efforts on the second, I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be relived or worried that my instinct didn¡¯t flare up again as I lined up the peg. On one hand it might mean I¡¯d found the solution. On the other, maybe I¡¯d already got my one warning, or whatever combination of skills and memories gave me these prompts decided that the risk of whatever I might try next wasn¡¯t worth it. Either way, some controlled swings lodged the peg in securely with only a small amount left protruding. It seemed as good a result as I could hope for and the only thing dampening my mood was the earlier unease. Still, with that result I replicated the grooves on the second peg and carefully hammered it home.


    Some personalisation was still possible, but the glaive was complete and functional. It wasn¡¯t as far as making a whole weapon yet, but it gave me confidence that I could do it. I released it from the vices and savoured the satisfaction of a job well done.