《The Sellsword and the Mage: The Palace of Tal'Don》 Chapter One: The Forge of the Fleet ¡°Death is preferable to Peace, as Death does not conceal. But Peace, it lulls one into believing it is real¡± - Harso Aboli, Dhramian Grand Datu, 770 TYA Sparks flew freely into the sea-sprayed air as the ship rocked violently. Even as the skies were clear, and the sun visible, colossal waves smothered the bow of the ship. Inside the ship, orange and red hues of the forge cascaded across the room, and on the soot-stained boy as his hammer bludgeoned the blade. Each strike had to be a deliberate, even, and precise strike. The edge was coming along nicely by Mahal¡¯s standards. But he couldn¡¯t help but lift it up slightly, before silently chastising himself as continued striking the sword. Over the course of an hour, Mahal watched the glow of the blade grow softer, forcing him to again his strategy as he held his hammer at a slight angle. Blisters appeared more when he did it this way, but so to do a better result. Most of the time. Or maybe he should¡¯ve held at a steeper angle. ¡°Mahal, the ship is nearly docked!¡± A voice in the background shouted. Mahal took the slightest glance up, only to nearly jump as the light of the moon greeted him in the same warmth that the Sun had. He looked at the sword, after grinding, quenching, tempering, and then grinding it again, the blade itself still gave Mahal pause. It still wasn¡¯t what he wanted. The waves of the sword were well and fine enough, but Mahal¡¯s eyes kept catching on the inconsistent sharpened spots of the entire piece. His eyes wandered, and he gasped as near the bottom of blade, the hilt was off center, and- Every possible flaw Mahal had been trying to avoid seemed to grow from his work. The blade looked passable, and might even be considered nice by some, but throwing it to the side was the only answer he found, just like the other 17 swords that had received the same condemnation.The angle in which he hit it didn¡¯t matter, the smoothness seemed like a moot point, and the sword teetered too much to be respectable. ¡°Buwan¡¯s sake, what are you doing, Mahal?¡± ¡°Sorry, father-¡±Mahal covered his mouth with his hammer, before realizing a little late that soot had gathered on it.. ¡°Mahal¡­¡± His father pleaded again as Mahal desperately got the coal taste out of his mouth. His father came around the corner as Mahal started to clean up the place. His hammer, with the runes that still glowed silver through the soot, was to hang above the anvil as it swayed with the waves. The extra coals to the iron chest on the other side of the room. ¡°Mahal, can we talk?¡± And lastly, the impure iron that had melted off no longer hissed at him, instead presented itself as little dark blobs at bottom of the barrel. In recent years, Mahal had managed to reduce how much waste he made with each new project, which brought him at least a little comfort. ¡°Mahal, please.¡± Mahal stopped what he was doing, only to turn towards his father. Standing about a half foot taller than him, his father wore an off-white shirt that held the sparsest of embeddings. That, paired with a set of slightly puffy pants, made up the fanciest outfit he had seen his father wear up to that point. As his father walked over, he heard a slight ¡®tsk tsk¡¯ noise before looking beyond Mahal. ¡°Is that the Datu¡¯s sword?¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Mahal sighed as he refused to look back on the blade, ¡°unfortunately¡­¡± His father threw the clothes onto a nearby stand as he went to inspect the Kupi sword. ¡°It has quite a few scuff marks, I¡¯m guessing from you throwing it in bin of doom¡± ¡°Father, please,¡± But his father shooed him away, and used the moon light to study the blade. He cut through air, whisking it to the left and right, before thrusting it towards the wall. ¡°It¡¯s weighted nicely. And with how sharp the edges of the sword are defined here, he might even confuse it for a sword of Althala-Steel. In either case, I¡¯m sure the Datu will find it pleasing, ¡± ¡°But I won¡¯t,¡± Mahal said matter-of-factly. Mahal went to collect his clothes, but as he did so, his father squinted his eyes as Mahal, with his arms crossed as he said, ¡°I¡¯m offended, Mahal,¡± ¡°What do you mean?!¡± ¡°You just called my own work worse than shit!¡± Mahal¡¯s eyes rapidly opened as he staggered back. He even cleared more of the soot from his face as he looked between his father and the blade. What could his father have possibly meant? He had seen his father¡¯s most recent project, he knew it had a quality to it only worthy of a Grand Datu. His father shook his head as he came over and messed up Mahal¡¯s hair, ¡°You are so flooded in the sins of the blade that you refuse to see the quality it has to it!¡± ¡°But-¡± ¡°I swear to Buwan, Nesanda, or any other god that can hear me, if you try to diminish the value of this blade again, I will personally throw you over the bow of this ship myself, and that is a guarantee¡± Neither one was able to hold a serious face for more than a few seconds, as both shared a casual chuckle. And before long, the temperature of the room followed the cools, as both cooled down. Mahal didn¡¯t need to look at his father¡¯s face to know that they were thinking the same thing. Otherwise, instead of this sea of stillness, both of them would be on the floor, laughing, crying or perhaps both. ¡°So, Mahal, I¡¯m not sure if I heard you correctly earlier, but-¡± Mahal pulled away, but his father rested his hand on Mahal¡¯s shoulder. Everything had settled down, even his set of tools, which had been swinging wildly, were now as stiff as a statue. ¡°Mahal, I¡­ I know the circumstances are a bit different¡± Since the first memories he could recall, he had been swatted over the head with his Mah¡¯awi. Expectations and rules his people had lived by, his life, all of it was to be decided today. And Mahal, despite having disagreements with some of the ways of old, could abide by them. ¡°I apologize, I¡¯ll make sure to stay clear of calling you that anymore.¡± But if there was one thing he could keep, Mahal wished it was his father. His friends, Valo & Mayari, both told him that they can always feel their parents¡¯ souls, even after the ritual. But he wasn¡¯t convinced by such tales, and he felt almost sure they had felt the same in some way. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay, Mahal. I¡­ to be honest with you, I¡¯ll miss hearing from you as my son rather than something akin to a stranger. If nothing else, this is for my own wishes as well¡± ¡°But what about the elders, or the Datu, or even the rest of the clan? I saw somebody from the Aboli Clan got ridiculously shunned and shut out for doing the same¡­¡± Mahal¡¯s father turned him around, and went in for a hug as he said, ¡°Mahal, we¡¯ll be okay¡± After a few seconds, both paused as his father continued, ¡°Obviously, caution is always necessary. Remember, you must say Marcio¡± ¡°Marcio, Marcio¡­ By Buwan¡¯s grace, I¡¯d rather have coals down by apron than say your name¡± Just behind his father, the ship turned and gave him full sight of the island, with it, the docks. He had arrived so many times at this same spot, but never for his own reasons. Now, hundreds of people gathered on the island, just for him. He disliked that thought, and everything in his mind told him he should take a dingy and sail off to some remote lands. His father rested on a piece of the ship that lay on the other side of the forge, ¡°You¡¯ll get through this. You¡¯ll see, Mahal¡±. Mahal began to finish the last of the clean up for the forge, before taking a knee, and silently praying to the gods above. He knew there was nothing he could do to change tomorrow. He¡¯d have to say good-bye to his father. All he could was pray that the gods gave him every extra minute possible. Chapter Two: The Isle of the Dhrami Elves lined themselves on the perimeter of the island, each separated by every ten or so feet. Even for the Elves, this was overly cautious. The ocean winds would reveal even more guards, who stationed themselves on the various hills and rocks dotted across the island, with some of them holding their bows out, as if expecting something to happen on a moment¡¯s notice. Mahal himself wasn¡¯t terribly concerned about it, he had his own worries to be anxious over. The land itself was its own challenge, as the sway of the seas didn¡¯t nicely transfer to walking on stable ground. Then again, the idea that the Dhrami, his people, had any land to their name, seemed like a myth. The only thing reliably the same was the winds that carried from South, making what would¡¯ve been a cold, mid-year night, into a bearable occasion. ¡°Mahal, it¡¯s good to see you!¡± Then there was a slew of aunt, uncles, and distant relatives that had traveled from their respective fleets to make it to the Mah¡¯awi. And unlike most ¡®outings¡¯, where he stayed unnoticed, today would ensure that achieving that goal would be almost impossible. ¡°Uh¡­ yes, Danu, it¡¯s very nice to¡­ see you too¡± It shouldn¡¯t be mistaken, Mahal didn¡¯t dislike conversation. ¡°Mahal, still as short as a wailing bush, but praise Buwan, I¡¯m glad to be present!¡± ¡°I thank you, Danu¡­ Liato¡­¡± ¡°By Buwan¡¯s light, do you not recognize me, Mahal?¡± ¡°I¡­ I apologize. Danu, I¡¯ve just been-¡± ¡°And are you still in smithing garb?¡± Mahal¡¯s Danu started to pull out a brush, before trying to apply some, ¡°You didn¡¯t even properly cover up your scars, Mahal! You¡¯d think someone on their Mah¡¯awi would be more responsible?¡± Mahal tried to reply back, but was quickly silenced as others joined in on the conversation, sharing in a laugh as they talked about the Mah¡¯awi, before sailing into different sorts of conversations. Mahal receded into the background, and started to float to other groups, seeing if he could find anyone he might recognize, so that he could stay away from those groups if nothing else. ¡°Son- excuse me, gentlemen. Mahal, over here!¡± Mahal nearly froze in place, before continuing to slowly walk in the opposite direction of the voice. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, I plead with you, let this game rest for once¡± Mahal slowly turned his body, before itching himself towards his father. The closer he got, the more he could make out the couple of people that were with him, including a man who easily towered over the rest of them, whose eyes were narrow, and whose ears were longer than most, and somewhat pointed. There was also the Datu of his fleet, a woman who Mahal had remembered as someone who spoke more with glares & stares rather than actual words. As the Datu and two men walked over, Mahal stayed in his spot, with occasional glances from those who spotted him. ¡°Mahal, do I recall you having met Da Hote before today?¡± Mahal shook his head as he stared at the tall Dhrami. Closer up, the man wore a style more similar to the Dhrami on the mainland, with a simple white vest and shirt, but both having thin silver outlines that seemed to cover over any stitch markers. Even the old man¡¯s hair was prim and proper, even to how unwrinkled his gloves were. However, upon closer inspection, he also saw in the bits of exposed skin, burns that suggested they stretched quite a bit, and old wounds that had camouflage with some newer ones. Stolen story; please report. The old man took a second to study Mahal, as Mahal tried to do the same. But even as Mahal tried, it seemed like Da Hote had gathered his thoughts already as he stretched out his hand as he did a slight bow, ¡°As Marcio said, my name is Da Hote¡± ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret-¡± As Mahal was about to leave it at that, he caught his father raising a singular eye, ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, sir¡± ¡°Well, Mahal, it is nice to finally meet the person behind the name¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°I was one of the fellows caught in that fire by your exploding automaton last year. Though I assume that wasn¡¯t its purpose, yes?¡± In an instant, a few others who were attached to other conversations perked up as they listened in. The Datu, who previously seemed surrounded in other thoughts, started to focus on Mahal, but he couldn¡¯t tell if it was because the Datu seemed genuinely interested, or if she was worried Mahal would make something else explode within the vicinity. Da Hote¡¯s voice became higher-pitched as he brought out a mini-notepad, ¡°You used lava for the entire system, right?¡± ¡°Not for the entire thing, just in the internal chambers. That creates a pressurized system,¡± Mahal paused as he tilted his head. ¡°Well, er¡­ it¡¯s not as if it matters now¡± ¡°Nonsense, I¡¯m upset I didn¡¯t think of something like that myself!. It¡¯s exactly the kind of thinking that¡¯ll propel us forward, isn¡¯t that right, Datu Malika?¡± Da Hote swiveled his eyes towards Datu, who did her best to portray confidence, ¡°Mahal is well-suited for smithing, I won¡¯t disagree. But such¡­ reckless pursuits, now more than ever, isn¡¯t w¡± Turning to Mahal, the Datu slightly knelt as she spoke, ¡°Mahal, forgo these indulgent whims. Your people call you to forge us weapons, to protect us. This is your duty. Marcio knows this best, right, Marcio?¡± Marcio replied with silence as both stared at the other. Da Hote tried his best to step in, and said, ¡°Marcio, let his opinions simmer by themselves, don¡¯t give fuel to them¡± ¡°It would be one thing,¡± Marcio began to say as he kept his gaze on the Datu, ¡°-if he forced it only on himself. But to place it as fact in place of my son and I¡¯s voice, it¡¯s not recommended, Datu¡± ¡°It¡¯s not opinion, none of us are above our duty to our people¡± ¡°You¡¯re pivoting¡± ¡°Ridiculous. Anything besides our duty threatens the very tradition-¡± ¡°You bring up tradition-¡± Da Hote said as he placed a hand on the Datu, ¡°Is it not in our blood to embark on the new? Those not enslaved by the Elves, did they not escape by sailing into the unknown?¡± The Datu slowly moved Da Hote¡¯s hand away as he said, ¡°Look at us. An entire people, forced to live on scraps of wood, with one damn island to our name. Much of our suffering was birthed from those¡­ ill-advised years,¡± Datu Malika paused as he looked at the rest of the crowd. As if judging the crowds herself and coming down with a verdict, continuing, ¡°We were feared once. Elves fled at the sight of us, now we¡¯re the dirt beneath their soles¡± Those who were actively listening instinctively looked to the outer edges of the nearest sect of elven soldiers, before gently going back to the circles they were in before, with Marcio and Da Hote staring at the Datu. ¡°I¡¯d expect more from a Datu,¡± Da Hote said as began to stand at his proper height, twice that of Mahal¡¯s. ¡° What, you preferred when our people were slaves to a different power?¡± Mahal felt as any warmth he once had transformed into the feeling of wet cloth on one¡¯s skin. ¡°Of course not!¡± Maliko¡¯s laugh sewed pins and needles as he continued, ¡°Above any other god, only one cared enough about us to try and end our oppression permanently. Do you think anyone else, a god or otherwise, would ever stick their necks out for us?¡± ¡°Buwan sacrificed her being so we may have the power to stand up for ourselves!¡± Da Hote rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of his older scars, as well as the symbol of Buwan displayed right on his wrist. ¡°You hooligan! You''re just willing to throw away her sacrifice like an Elf throwing Dhrami babies into a vat of oil?¡± The air no longer gave off an icy feeling, but rather an inferno of stiffness. Marcio, Da Hote,and Malika stared at each other, with every second carrying its own message. ¡°I only jest with you gentlemen,¡± the Datu said as Mahal watched him craft a stitched-up smile. ¡°lighten up you old frogs¡±. Da Hote automatically stepped in front of Marcio as he said, ¡°Of course, Datu Malika! With those acting skills, I¡¯m sure you could¡¯ve been an star actor in one of those mainland plays,¡± The Datu nearly got another word in, however, Da Hote pinned a smile to his face, and started to talk about how he had seen plays on the mainland, before going on a full on rant about how badly one play he had seen recently could¡¯ve used the Datu.. Marcio quickly walked the other direction as he directed Mahal to follow. ¡°Praise Buwan for that man¡¯s patience and existence. We must make haste, my mind can ill-afford another moment of Datu Maliko¡± Chapter Three: A Captain鈥檚 Will A wall made up of well-armed elves stood at the entrance to the docks, with the crowds even taking a break from idle chatter, sharing uneasy glances with another. Some, especially those Mahal noticed had more armor on than the rest, kept their hands stayed at their swords. Mahal instinctively kept himself behind his father, with Marcio walking slowly and his arms opened as he said, ¡°Gentle-Elves, my son and I just need to get my son¡¯s ¡± Mahal watched as a couple of the officers came to the front of the barricade of elves. Mahal quickly took to looking at the armor of the elves, as this would probably be the closest he¡¯d get to seeing it for a while. On either flank of the central figure, two towering elves wore silver-colored armor, which had concave lines creating an outline of the sun. And in the middle of those chest plates, Mahal recognized the elven figure displayed on the front. From what Mahal remembered, it was the previous Elven king, King Il¡¯lora, who was depicted decapitating the head of a Dhrami Chieftain. Something meant to be a reminder to all Dhrami whenever they were allowed to step on land. ¡°Just when I thought the Dhrami couldn¡¯t be filthier¡± Behind those two emerged the source of the voice. Sitting a little shorter than his guards, his armor managed to portray a different story. It was ordained in a golden plate, with small & flat golden roses embroidered in. If it weren¡¯t for the night, Mahal was sure he could have blinded the entire island single handedly. Mahal thought it was particularly obnoxious how the elf had a giant flowing cape, but the situation provided Mahal incentive to keep silent. Marcio bowed, as well as the other Dhrami who were nearest to the Elves. With his head still bowed, Marcio said, ¡°I only wish to gather the last pieces of my son¡¯s wears¡± ¡°Quite, Meklonid¡± The elf in the gold armor came forward, as if to inspect both Mahal and his father. He took his time looking between the two, all without giving the order for the Dhrami to stop bowing. Even when the other races bowed to Elven emissaries, it would never be more than a few seconds. But here, Mahal felt as if the elf was making sure to parade himself around, as if to make sure to show the Dhrami even more how inferior they were to them. After five minutes of the silent inspection, the golden elf made his way back to his peers. ¡°You two, you may rise¡± Mahal and his father quickly took the queue, with his father starting to make his way into the docking area. But, the spears carried by either guard blocked off the entrance yet again. ¡°Gentle-Elves, please, all we require-¡± ¡°Shut your mouth, the very air you waste disgusts me, Meklonid¡± The elf then pointed to Mahal as he said ¡°And come here, devil-child¡± Mahal looked to his father, who¡¯s hands slightly trembled as he had his back to the guards. His father¡¯s face showed a man full of frustration, not fearfulness. His father bit his lip, before slowly nodding to Mahal. Walking to the elf, the one in golden armor quickly grabbed Mahal by the shoulders, before dragging him in front of his father and everyone else. He didn¡¯t even bother with a glance as he said to Marcio, ¡°You¡¯re the parental unit, correct?¡± Mahal¡¯s father stayed silent, even biting his lip as he balled his fists. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your label, but your silence will mark you for even greater punishment. Now tell me, you were half the reason why we have to look at his disgusting face, yes?¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Marcio didn¡¯t dignify the question, standing resolute. However, one of the elven guards standing hurled the butt of his spear at Marcio¡¯s stomach, forcing him to catch his breath. Mahal quickly stepped closer to his father, his hands trembling as he managed to say, ¡°He is my father- sir!¡± Mahal saw his father flinch, and in an instant, felt a horrible sensation digging into his stomach. The elf¡¯s attention swung to Mahal, who did his best to hide his trembling as the elf said, ¡°It¡¯s most interesting, little su-gil. Even my own Dhramian slaves dress in a better manner than I suspect you ever have in your entire life¡±. Mahal kept himself to silence as the elf started to again inspect him, lifting his arms, before then feeling out his arms and shoulders. ¡°But perhaps you can be brought to the light, just like them¡­¡± Mahal stole a glance over towards his father, who was beaten down just as he tried to get up. He almost reached out to his father, but felt a hand forcefully squeeze his face as it pushed him back away from the docks. ¡°Look at me, Dhrami¡± The Golden elf grabbed Mahal by the top of his head, and slowly turned it to face him. ¡°You¡¯re a violation of the law, and all of you are violation of nature itself,¡± The Elf Captain¡¯s face shifted from a poisonous sneer to a smile that overstayed its welcome, as if he enjoyed whatever concoction was brewing in his mind. ¡°I¡¯ve heard from Da Hote that you¡¯re good with a hammer, for a Dhrami at least. Prove yourself, and perhaps I let you stay in the mud holes with the rest of them. Certainly better than the Pa¡¯iluko your kind call ships¡± ¡°Captain Il¡¯lan, it¡¯s the young one¡¯s birthday, not a wretched slave sale¡± Mahal turned as the Elf¡¯s grip loosened. Da Hote walked slowly, and had a slight smile as he looked over to Mahal. ¡°Calm your nutsack, old man. I have no intention of actually having scum like this on my lands. By Geno¡¯s grace, she knows we have too many of them on our lands already¡± Da Hote nodded as he took something out of his pocket, and then glanced back at the elf, ¡°then what were you doing, captain?¡± ¡°Nothing of your concern,¡± the elf captain continued to eye Da Hote as he walked over to him. ¡°Besides, even if I was seeking more slaves, I would be well within my rights¡± ¡°You must take me as a fool, then¡± ¡°It¡¯s a mercy I don¡¯t kill him, Da Hote-¡± ¡°Legally¡± Da Hote raised his hands in defense. ¡°It¡¯s Sir Da Hote. And since everyone here loves citing the law-¡± Da Hote threw a side eye at the captain as he continued ¡°That requires you, Captain Il¡¯lan, to step away. You¡¯re not on elvish territory, or do you yearn for a court-martial that badly? And for Ayn¡¯s sake, stop making such a ruckus. I swear, you are worse-behaved than a school-child who¡¯s discovered magic¡± Da Hote helped up Marcio before wedging himself in between the two. He held his hands behind himself, and looked like an elder who was about to lecture their kin for at least two hours. ¡°Sir Da Hote,¡± the elf¡¯s voice became strained and taut as he leaned in close to Da Hote. ¡°You¡¯re dangerously close to overextending your hand. But,¡± the elf general leaned back, and signalled to his guards to step away. ¡°I suppose your kind know no better¡± Mahal and Da Hote both bowed as they walked past the captain, but his father stiffly walked past, with any whispers that might¡¯ve been exchanged carried out by the winds, and engulfed by the blistering waves that smashed against the dock. Once they were near their ship, he looked to Da Hote, who had exchanged his smile for a neutral expression, as Mahal said, ¡°That was amazing, Sir Da Hote!¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t celebrate too much, though I appreciate your praise, Mahal¡± Mahal looked towards Da Hote with a tinge of confusion, ¡°You are aware that¡¯s was an elf?¡± Da Hote kept a blank expression on his face as they made their way to the ship. And the more he thought about it, the more the connections refused to be made. But even as Mahal mulled over it, Da Hote looked back to him, ¡°I hope you know, you are capable of the same,¡± ¡°Nonsense, I¡¯m as capable of being brave as an elf being kind¡± Mahal stated as he looked at Da Hote, his mind now burnin from overwork it tried to make sense of anything the old man was saying. Didn¡¯t Da Hote see him crumble to the ground, to struggle to say a word? Maybe, just maybe, he was actually senile. That would explain why he sensed no fear in that man. Da Hote only stared at Mahal though, as he studied the young man. Mahal thought perhaps both of them were confused by the other. But if they were, Da Hote had seemed to gather his bearings quicker, as he said, ¡°It seems that you may have misjudged me¡± ¡°I think I have judged you just fine¡± ¡°Do not mistake being brave as a lack of fear, Mahal¡± ¡°What is it, then?¡± Da Hote gently brought over his left hand in front of him, and held it up in front of Mahal. He watched as Da Hote¡¯s hand shook, as if it was in a tempest itself. Even as he brought over his right to try and keep it still, both hands now trembled in unison. ¡°It is the ability to take action,¡± Da Hote¡¯s voice was steady as he continued, ¡°in spite of fear, that shows we are brave¡±. Chapter Four: The Mah鈥檃wi of Mahal Mahal made sure to take no precautions, scurrying to put on what was a dark blue long sleeve, with light embroidings that went from the stomach all the way to knees. The fabric itself felt as if even the air surrounding it was heavier. The winds surrounding attempted to whip at those gathered, but Mahal spotted several of the older Dhrami on the outskirts of the island, creating an arcanic barrier that managed to keep all but the slightest of breezes from entering inside. A collective song was sung quietly as each Dhrami present held their heads low. His father had told him that most of the words they sang were unknown, that they only knew the feelings and sounds behind their ancestral language. Mahal himself knew only a couple words, and even those made little sense to him. The only ones not following suit were a few others, such as a few dwarves, an elf, and a few other races that Mahal didn¡¯t quite recognize. The ground beneath seemed to stretch away from his feet as he forced every step closer to the temple. The heat of the summers only helped Mahal be more aware of the sweat that swarmed his body. And every attempt to distract his mind with his various projects only made him more aware of what was to come. The only silver lining was in the fact that he was supposed to keep his head bowed, so that he could at least rest his head. ¡°Oh, Mahal Alato Auroret, son of Marcio Auroa Auroret, why have you come here today?¡± Mahal instinctively looked up to see a well-wrinkled and stoic face. His Elder stood about a half foot above him, and held close to her chest a single leather-bound book. ¡°Grand Elder of the Auroret Fleet,¡± Mahal hesitated as he was tempted to look toward his father, who was right at the front of the crowds, along with Da Hote. However, the eyes from the other Dhrami swiveled Mahal¡¯s focus back on the Elder. He began to bow from his torso as he continued, ¡°I¡­ I have reached the age of Mah¡¯awi. I therefore ask you, o¡¯wise Elder, to anoint upon me my destined silent markings, as ordered by the Archives of the Old¡±. Mahal reached deep into the air to full bow, before holding still. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret¡±, the Elder replied as she stepped aside. ¡°Hold your head high. The Sages of Buwan, Nesanda, and Mayari accept your request. You may continue inside, as well as any that wish to witness the Mah¡¯awi of Mahal Alato Auroret¡± Mahal awkwardly brought himself back to fully stand as he continued forward into the temple. The temple itself had no actual walls, but decorated columns that lined both the perimeter and the interior. On each column, lanterns with orange flames were strewn about, each dancing around as the wind greeted each. At the backside was a drawer, with a plain wooden table sitting in front of it. On the floor, hundreds of velvet and silk pillows lay on the floor as people started to sit on them. As he entered the center, he saw that part of the roof had been cut out. With it the symbol of Buwan, a crescent moon with three stars sitting at the front side of it, was made. Mahal waited underneath this light as he watched the others file in. However, he kept a close eye on the Elven guards, who maintained a distance away from the temple as they had their backs turned away from the temple. At the front, the Elder prepared a single glass canister, which was full of a starry liquid that wasn¡¯t so easily swayed. Next to the elder, there were several other of the Elder¡¯s helpers, all of whom were tidying up the area as the rest of the area continued to be filled. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, you may step forward now¡± the Elder said as she brought the glass canister in front of her. He followed the order from the Elder, taking each step as carefully as the last. As soon as he was three feet away from the Elder, he quickly stopped, and bowed again from his torso, and his arms stayed by his side. In the next second, the Elder moved her hand forward, with Mahal taking her hand shakily as he pressed it against his bowed head. ¡°Elder of the Auroret Clan, I am honored by your presence, and by the gods¡± ¡°By Buwan¡¯s Light, by Nesenda¡¯s Mercy, and by Mayari¡¯s guidance, you have gained your rights. Kneel before the gods, Kilor Mayu-Buwa Baynor Nagi-Trata-Bawanor¡± The rest of the temple repeated after the Elder in unison. Mahal¡¯s knees felt like mush as he let go of the Elder¡¯s hand. A loud thud followed Mahal as he fell to his knees rather than softly landing. As he sat on his knees, Mahal heard a couple of grunts, before a pair of heavier footsteps came close to him. The Elder¡¯s eyes drifted away from her right, with a hesitancy in her voice, ¡°To the parent of Mahal Alato Auroret. You may rise¡± Seated near the front of the Temple, practically right next to Mahal, his father quietly rose and moved next to his son. By this point, Mahal started to take off his shirt, revealing sets of scars on his stomach, chest, and other areas. Amongst the scars also were a set of recently singed chest hairs. ¡°Marcio Aurao Auroret, take the silent markings of Buwan, and proceed¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. His father slowly took the glass canister, bringing it to his side, before opening it up. The breeze provided comfort to Mahal as he was left to stay still, his life to be made in a few minutes. Mahal could¡¯ve sworn he heard the slightest sound of chimes as his father¡¯s fingers dipped into the starry silver-esque liquid, before bringing them to the middle of Mahal¡¯s chest. He nearly shriveled as the liquid made contact, but a sensation of a soft warmth greeted him instead. Like the sun on one¡¯s face on a mild day. Mahal kept his eyes closed as his father consistently drew on his chest and torso. Although he couldn¡¯t see it, some of the shapes did come to mind. The waves of fire, flickers as either sparks or stars, and on his back, the crescent moon, along with the three stars that always accompanied it. The song of the waves, the tune of the winds, it colaced, and for a moment, things seemed to settle. Maybe he could be alright. Projects the Datu had banned him from researching, he¡¯d be given practically free reign. He could finally sleep on the top bunk on the ship, instead of being greeted every week by a salt spray. And he¡¯d have the memory of his father ingrained into him. However, Mahal instinctively opened his eyes as the plated armor of the Elves outside pulled him back. Eyes followed his every movement, every creak of his bones. Soon, minutes turned into infinity, and his knees were grains of sand slipping away. At some point, his father whispered, ¡°Mahal, rise¡±. Mahal rose gently, keeping his head bowed and his eyes closed. His father again dipped his hands into the glass canister. He felt a reverse crescent on his left cheek, as a pattern of waves was then drawn on his neck, before being connected to the rest of the markings on his body. A blacksmith upon a ship of driftwood and chunks of iron. Destined to watch as elves cursed them off any land. Was this really what the gods wished for? Buwan, why did she free the Dhrami, why did she sacrifice herself? Why give them hope? ¡°Seat yourself, Marcio Aurao Auroret¡± the Elder¡¯s voice was quick and rough as Marcio silently followed the Elder¡¯s orders. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, raise your head¡± Mahal did so as the Elder continued, ¡°May the Goddess¡¯ who guides every Dhrami¡¯s path, may they take you under their wing. Whether it be Nesenda storms of passion, or Mayari¡¯s stars of guidance-¡± the Elder¡¯s eyes dotted towards the left nearby as Mahal caught Da Hote holding a stare towards her. ¡°Or even the fates will it, may Buwan¡¯s light of mercy take hold in you¡± The Elder muttered in silence, and before too long, a white-ashened piece of wood emerged from her hand. Walking past Mahal, she made her way to the crescent-shaped hole in the ceiling, before then holding it towards the roof, and chanting, ¡°Ancient Goddesses, which one shall bless Mahal Alato Auroret?¡± Silence followed the Elder¡¯s words, before each individual candle slowly altered itself into a silvery flame. The moonlight that once gathered around the Elder now shifted towards Mahal. Even as he couldn¡¯t see the markings on his body, a faint silver glow emitted all around him. Nothing followed at first. Some shuffled around, others faintly whispered between each other. It took about a half a minute before Da Hote started to clap, with his father going up to hug him. The Elder walked over, before placing her hand on Mahal¡¯s shoulder. As she talked, the words came out slowly, ¡°You have been chosen by Buwan, Mahal. I present you with your wand. Harness her power, through all the evil that will come your way¡±. ¡°Thank-¡± Mahal looked to the Elder, but found the Elder¡¯s eyes watering, and the usual blank expression now traded in for the slightest look of mourning. ¡°Hold fast to your friends, Mahal. I¡­ I am sorry it must be this way¡± Mahal watched as the Elder then turned around, bowing to the rest of the temple before saying, ¡°Aniti Maya Auroret, please present Mahal with his Barong¡± In the midst of his father hugging him, and the slow progression of gathering claps, Mahal had nearly forgotten that his chest lay bare. He swiftly walked over to where the Elder was standing, and watched as two Dhrami women stood up. One of them, who looked a few years his elder, stuck her arm in. The other, her mother no doubt, looked closer to the Elder¡¯s age, and braced herself against the arm, before both of them walked together. Each of them wore beautifully ornate yellow dresses, something that Mahal had thought was more myth than reality. As both of them stared at Mahal, the daughter gently handed the mother a box about the size of half a plank of wood. The Mother gave a warm smile as she bowed her head and gave it to him, and he also bowed his head. Inside revealed a dark blue coat, which had an embroidered design on the collar. Simple golden buttons ordained the right side of the coat. Along with the coat came a simple shirt and pants, which matched the color of the coat perfectly. Mahal looked further into the package, finding a cape which seemed to extend to the knees. As he brought it out, similar embroideries on the edges and neck area were placed. Mahal took one look at all the clothes, ensuring to carefully hold as he inspected all the pieces closer. These clothes were more fit for a son of a Datu, not a blacksmith¡¯s son, especially one like him. For Buwan¡¯s sake, the fanciest thing he owned was his smithing hammer. The daughter then brought out another box, and handed it a set of leather boots which seemed to almost go up to his knees. With it, a set of leather gloves were tucked inside, even a series of belts with some with poaches was included. ¡°Blessed Aniti, are you sure these gifts weren¡¯t switched for someone else?¡± ¡°Quite the blabber, and put it on, Mahal¡± Once he got dressed, he took a moment to get a feel for the outfit. Both the shirt and coat fit snuggly, and yet it felt as breathable as his other clothes. Just as he thought, the boots almost went up to his knees. But perhaps best of all, the pouches had seemingly infinite amounts of small compartments for him to store whatever he needed throughout the day. The Elder nodded as she studied him. And after a moment or two, she briskly brought back the white-ashened wand from earlier, and said, ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, may you find these gifts acceptable as you grow into a proper Dhrami¡± Mahal stood there for a second, mouth agape, before almost yelling, ¡°Thank you so much-¡± the Elder raised an eyebrow as he stopped himself short. ¡°Elder Anaga, Aniti, I graciously accept these gifts, and can only hope to be as skillfully in my craft as what¡¯s shown in these gifts¡± The Elder nodded in satisfaction before turning towards those gathered, ¡°To those who have gathered for the Mah¡¯awi of Mahal, let us celebrate the making of a new man!¡± Chapter Five: To Better Nights For the rest of the night, those gathered celebrated as jubilantly as the small area would allow. Various guests came by Mahal, who hung out in the corner of the temple. ¡°Here¡¯s the birthday boy! Dilya, look at the lad, hanging out in the corner like those, um¡­ what the in hells is the Elvish for it?¡± a voice boomed from the other side of the temple The Dwarf behind the voice became clearer as he and his father walked side by side, with his father still laughing from something said earlier. Mahal had seen the sameOn the other side of the Dwarf was an Elf, perhaps a foot taller than Mahal. As she followed, she said, ¡°Just call them Lily Loons, Gilolin¡± ¡°But the Elvish name sounds so much stupider! The boy looks like he needs a laugh. Or a beer¡± ¡°You certifiably insane if you think given the boy should ingest any of the poisonous liquid you brought¡± ¡°You say that, but I¡¯ve already sold your kin guards, in their shiny plate, some of it. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve made a permanent client out of them¡± The Dwarf went to nudge Mahal¡¯s father as he chuckled to himself, but instead he found Mahal¡¯s Father¡¯s face frozen. The Dwarf in that instant, also froze. The Elf walked silently, but held the butt of her sword firmly. Her stare was directly pointed towards the dwarf. ¡°Dilya, from the depths of Vulcrom¡¯s Mines, I¡¯m sorry¡± ¡°Your apology is as shallow as those old mines¡± This stunned the Dwarf, before he quietly said ¡°It¡¯s still a couple thousand feet-¡± The Elf stopped, pulling the blade ever-so slightly as Gilolin held his hands up, ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll shut my mouth¡± All three walked in silence before fully making their way to the front. Mahal¡¯s father led in front as he gestured for Mahal to come forward. ¡°Mahal, I¡¯d like to introduce you to a couple of my friends from some years ago¡± The elf bowed her head, and it sounded almost poetic as she spoke, ¡°Greeting, son of Marcio Aurao Auroret. I¡¯m known by my kin as Di¡¯layna, but feel free to call me Dilya¡±. Now fully in view, Dilya was at least a couple feet taller than Mahal. She wore a rose-gold colored dress, along with a rose gold arm band on her left arm. Her white-silver hair fell past her shoulders, with her pointed her poking it Without any prompt, the dwarf extended his hand out, and shook Mahal violently as he reciprocated the handshake. ¡°Gilolin of the Volous mines, pleasure to me ya¡¯, Mahal¡±. Standing about a half taller than him, Gilolin wore a steel chest plate, with a fashionable gambeson that nearly touched the floor underneath it. His beard was braided into two identical sections. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet both of you¡± Mahal bowed, before looking at his father. ¡°Gilolin and Dilya had a few things they wished to talk to you about, that¡¯s all¡± His father said as he held his hands up. ¡°Armu?ti?ri¡¯s sake, stop acting all mysterious. There¡¯s no fuckin¡¯ elves near us, ¡®cept for little miss lightning storm here,¡± Gilolin looked at Mahal as he extended grabbed something from his pockets. ¡°Take this, boy, and don¡¯t let anyone but us three see or know of it¡± Dilya looked over Gilolin¡¯s shoulder, before repeatedly kicking him in the shins as she said, ¡°Really, Gilolin?! You swore to leave it home, to not possibly start anything. But of course you had to ignore me¡± ¡°If he¡¯s going to be a proper smith, he¡¯ll need a proper metal to make his masterpiece.¡± Gilolin took Mahal¡¯s hand, and with it, a heavy material wrapped in cloth was exchanged. ¡°It¡¯s best to keep it hidden for now. Wait till¡¯ your out to sea¡± Mahal nodded as stowed it away in one of his pouches. However, just as the conversation was about to recede, Da Hote briskly made his way through the crowd, occasionally giving an apology for everyone he was bumping into. ¡°Marcio, we need to- oh, I¡¯m so sorry, Madam, excuse me, Marc- I didn¡¯t mean to sir, I¡¯m just-¡± His father quickly nodded to all three of them before walking over to meet Da Hote. All three of them stood there awkwardly, before Gilolin asked Mahal, ¡°So, Mahal, are you ready?¡± ¡°Wow, how incredibly vague¡± ¡°Oh shove it, I¡¯m trying to ask the kid a genuine question here¡± Mahal looked at both of them, before laughing a bit to himself, ¡°Have you two always been like this?¡± Mahal quickly thought about what he was saying as he rushedly said, ¡°If you don''t mind me asking that is!¡± ¡°Since we¡¯ve met, I¡¯d say¡± ¡°He continued this even on our wedding day¡± They bickered back and forth, each having a seemingly endless amount of grievances to throw at each other. But Mahal saw that each one brought out laughter rather than actual malice. As the arguing shimmered to murmers, Gilolin looked at Mahal, ¡°Whatcha getting at? Why ask?¡± ¡°You have each other, I presume. And I¡¯d imagine both of you have fountains of friends outside of this. I¡­ oh nevermind it. I just was curious¡± All three sat in a second of silence, but in another moment, Gilolin pulled Mahal in, hugging him tight, ¡°Look, Mahal, your pa¡¯s been breathin¡¯ down my neck since my first pickaxe. He¡¯s a good fella, and I know he raised ya well. If you need anything, me and Dilya are more than willing¡± ¡°Dilya and I, you mean Gilolin,¡± Dilya rolled her eyes, but quickly shifted to a warmer look as she said, ¡°but yes, our doors are open to you for as long as you need and want. Your father tells much about you, how proud he is. We¡¯d be honored to host such a brilliant young man such as yourself¡± ¡°I¡¯m honored by your generosity, both of you¡± Mahal bowed before letting out a small smile. At that moment, his father and Da Hote emerged back from the crowd. In his father¡¯s hand was a knife that took a shape close to diamond. Holding it to his side, he gestured for Mahal to come close. ¡°Are you ready, Mahal?¡± He looked at his father. Here it was. Two minutes and 30 seconds was all it would take to determine the rest of his 200 year or so existence. Millions of Dhrami before had to make the same sacrifice and call. None in their history had ever denied it, as far as he knew. His heart beat against his body, as if punishing him for having doubts. His mind raged like the seas against the sands. But despite it all, he knew what he must say. ¡°Yes¡­ Marcio¡± Chapter Six: A Spark The room had chilled as non-Dhrami were herded towards the outside. Right at the exit, Da Hote led most of these efforts as he gave out a variety of hugs and shaking of hands. However, as the Dhrami were the only one¡¯s left inside, glints of light & the clanking of expensive armor summoned Mahal¡¯s attention. ¡°Sir Da Hote,¡± the Captain spewed a thinly-veiled sense of disgust as he said his name, ¡°I¡¯m under direct order from the Elven Admiralty to act as witness for your Dhramian... rituals, as your kind would say,¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to affirm that I¡¯m an advocate for developing an understanding other cultures,¡± Da Hote studied the captain from head to toe as he continued, ¡°but a smart, well-mannered, and respectable person would have a royal decree of their government before becoming involved, wouldn¡¯t you concur?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not here for a battle of wits, old man. Let my men and I through, and we¡¯ll both have a sound night¡±. As the Captain said this, Mahal watched as a team of elves gathered in formation behind him. They all dressed in long and drooping robes, which were flooded in a midnight blue hue. Each was adorned with a set of decorative stars that sparked in the light, but became smaller as they went up the robe. ¡°No¡± Da Hote then stared blankly at the Captain. The Captain walked to where only a few inches separated them, ¡°I have given respect to your station, despite how idiotic it may be. Despite your insubordination, I would not have you kneel. And perhaps most mercifully, despite the Dhramian ooze, I choose to recognize the Elven ichor within you¡± Guests who were near the door froze for a second, before quickly moving out of the premises. Some Dhrami, especially the younger ones, couldn¡¯t help but stare at Da Hote. Some did so in horror, others as something altogether alien. Mahal heard stories of people known as ¡®half-breeds¡¯, a term he learned about when he and his father were in a Halfling port. He had seen a Dhrami adult that was shorter than him in that port when the conversation happened. His people never used the term, but he guessed that didn¡¯t extend to other races. As both of them went back and forth, Mahal watched as his father neared the Captain. ¡°I am all the more blessed to share the same blood-¡± ¡°Save that shit for those who care, Sir¡± Mahal¡¯s father took one of the loose rocks, before swinging it widely at the captain. Da Hote caught Marcio at one second, before tossing himself in the midst in the next. The stone clashed right with Da Hote¡¯s cheek bones. ¡°Steel yourself, Marcio!¡± Da Hote¡¯s breathing was labored as he brought his hand up. Softly chanting, a soft green rune glowed on his cheek, slowly closing the wound. ¡°And Captain Il¡¯lan, as one who shares the same wasted potential of the elves, I¡¯ll gift you a singular line of advice: Trotil Ila, ikil rukiscolo ti il Ilici pili¡±. The Captain back-stepped as he unsheathed his blade. Mahal could tell it was a brilliant sword, even from the back of the temple. The Slight curve of shape, the handle, and even the balance seemed to meld with the Captain and how Mahal guessed he fought. ¡°I¡¯m happy to see the sword, Captain Il¡¯lan. I remember when your father asked me to make it two inches longer to be more proportional with your predicted height. If memory serves, I correctly predicted you¡¯d be shorter, just like your temper¡± The Captain let his face bend down as he stayed silent. Holding his stance, he kept his sword forward, but only slightly. The end drooped down towards the ground. Da Hote held the pommel of his sword, but kept a relaxed handle on it. However, with the moonlight lighting up the island in a more clear light, and the waves now calm, Mahal watched as the Dhrami, one by one, inside the temple arose as they gathered near the front. The Elder led the effort as she took out her wand, and stood with Mahal¡¯s father and Da Hote. Both sides stood still, neither one willing to become the aggressor fully. In one moment, it seemed like the Island was about to explode into war. But in the next, one of the cloaked figures walked forward. First looking at Da Hote, they then met Mahal¡¯s gaze. It felt like a ray of heat was centered on Mahal as he met the fiery-yellow eyes.He couldn¡¯t see a face, or anything else for that matter. The eyes. He kept coming back to them, they felt there was power behind them, it wasn¡¯t Elven. But he could only afford to sustain it for a moment, before feeling like his eyes were burning just from a single look. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°War this early, Captain?¡± the words came out honeyed, yet Mahal instinctively kept his guard up. He could feel the power behind the words, the magic that incidentally seeped from them. ¡°Kil¡¯yan,¡± It was a memory Mahal would latch on to for a long time, watching as the captain reluctantly bowed to her. He looked at her, and whispered ¡°Ignore the filth, and they¡¯ll crash like a tidal wave onto the main land¡± ¡°Behave, little ember. I didn¡¯t ask you to play warrior today, just to look it¡± The Captain continued to fix his focus to the ground, before sheathing his sword, and turning about as he walked away. He and some of his men then sat near the docks, and sustained a lingering glance towards the Dhami and their temple, but nothing more. The cloaked figure turned to Da Hote and summoned him forth. Inching forward, Mahal watched as Da Hote first looked at her with suspicion, before his face shifted into an almost pasty white. He tried desperately to listen in, but the words traveled through mush to Mahal¡¯s ears. But Da Hote¡¯s posture continued to remain straight, and his attention seemed affixed. In addition, Da Hote no longer held the butt of his sword. But whatever they had said was lost to the wind. ¡°I apologize to you all. May your night be peaceful¡± The cloaked figure said as she nodded slightly. When her head came up, Mahal again found himself staring at the same blinding yellow eyes. But instead of an empty void, silked and smooth words surrounded his mind. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret of the Dhrami, steel yourself, and I shall ensure brighter days are ahead¡± The cloaked figure turned and then walked away, with the researchers following in-tow. The temple was now silent, and with it, everyone started to recede into the floor. The Elder chanted ¡°Kankor Buwa¡±, changing the lights from the silver of before, to a dark red maroon. ¡°Marcio Aurao Auroret, and Mahal Alato Auroret, come forward¡± the Elder said as she stowed her wand as both came over and bowed. ¡°The ritual must not be delayed further. The Elves will not be silenced for long¡± ¡°Yes, Elder¡± Mahal¡¯s father agreed as both he and her walked briskly to the front. Mahal walked forward but slowly. He had hoped that somehow, both of them would forget to perform the Murklana, but now, it could not be avoided. Mahal watched as the Elder chanted in Maharian, more so than he knew existed. As she did, stone pillars rose from the floor. Four were risen in total, each with words etched into each stone, which also revealed the faded blue inside of the stones as well. ¡°Mahal Alato Auroret, come forward, and claim your destined path¡± He followed the instructions, before staring at his father. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he mouthed the words, ¡®I love you, son¡¯. Mahal wished at that moment, that some sort of rain would come and cover his own tears. He willed himself forward, forcing his legs to comply with his duty. ¡°Take out your wand, Mahal, and be prepared to repeat after me¡± the Elder said as she held a small, aged, leather bound book. As he did, the Elder continued, ¡°Ip kaknor dilka ab mala mukali, il ip palidor ir pak cretala buwari¡±, and Mahal followed, word for word. As he did, a small and pulsing blue arcane light created a path to all four stones. With it, the text on each stone started to glow in the same soft blue. He looked to his father. The soft glow of the magic came and went much like the waves against land. His crease lines, the almost completely healed scars, every dimple, all of it was clear. Mahal had never studied his father much before. He knew what his own father looked like, of course. But he realized that despite all the mulling over various details on swords, axes, and other pieces he had made in the past, he had never had a terribly close look at his father before this. He was an old man. This was the complete image of his father. As Mahal sat there, he felt a hand take his left, before another hand completely surrounded his hand. He felt a gentle but firm squeeze from his father, who now closed his eyes as he smiled. Tears still seared his father¡¯s and his own cheeks as the elder said, and Mahal followed, ¡°Ip majilor ahoni mala, daga palor melidor ikig naga¡± The text shifted to the same dark red maroon from the lanterns, as it now masked parts of his father¡¯s face. Mahal held his father¡¯s hands tighter as the storming in his body and mind tried to compel him to do anything else. ¡°Ip muka ab mala, ilir panir buklar nesa ahono lalanir akil nagala¡± the Elder said as she held her hands up high. However, she looked over to Mahal, who had his eyes closed as his hands shook. The elder again said the line, saying it slowly as she closed her eyes. But Mahal¡¯s voice refused. His body stiffened. The Elder whispered, ¡°What are you doing, Mahal?¡± ¡°I-I¡­¡± As this was going on, voices near the front of the temple started mummering. Before Mahal could even chance a look, a familiar clanking of steel on steel neared, followed by multitudes of other steel plated individuals. ¡°What is this? Are these the infamous blood rituals?! How many have been killed by you barbarians!¡± Dozens of the Dhrami started to stand up, and pushed against the groups of Elven soldiers as the Elder grabbed Mahal¡¯s head, spinning it to face her ¡°Finish the ritual, Mahal. Repeat after me: ¡°Ip muka,¡± ¡°I-Ip muka,¡± ¡°ab mala¡± ¡°Ab¡­¡± Mahal¡¯s heart actively hammered his chest, his grip now the only thing keeping him up. ¡°Ab mala,¡± ¡°...I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t!¡± The Elder held the top of his head with an iron grip as the chaos in the background kicked up. Spells and swords clashed, with the Elves slowly pushing back against the Dhramian crowd. ¡°You must Mahal, you have to!¡± Mahal wanted to say something, anything. But as his words abandoned him, he felt his father¡¯s grip loosen. A splat of blood coated his face and body, and a huge thud rung out against the ground, as it echoed in his ears. Mahal turned around he saw as the Elven captain held his wand in front of him, and wisps of blue magic dissipating from around his wand. He stood there. Chapter Seven: A Spring without You - 1297 TYA Blades of grass danced collectively as the sun shined brightly on the fields of the stuff all over. Kids played all around, others sat quietly. A few of those kids, however, had come over to a building closest to those fields of glass. The sounds of metal on metal were carried by the soft winds. ¡°Now how bright should the metal be?¡± A group of kids sitting on Da Hote¡¯s demonstration screamed together ¡°grain-yellow!¡± The flames surrounding the lump of metal flickered in a variety of blues, with the outer edges being of a slight orange. ¡°That¡¯s correct, my future swordsmiths! Afterwards, you take your new masterpiece, and then place all your passion and strength into shaping the metal¡± Da Hote used all of his might as he rhythmically hammered the metal into the perfect shape. ¡°Now this process can take anywhere from a couple days to a few months depending on the piece¡± Da Hote occasionally coughed as the fumes of the fire flooded his throat, ¡°Even with magic, sword making is for those dedicated, with the passion to see it through, right, Mahal?¡± In the corner of the workshop, Mahal gently held one of the recently finished swords, polishing it with a slightly oiled rag. Mahal didn¡¯t look up as Da Hote cleared his throat, ¡°Passion, right, MAHAL?!¡± Almost dropping the sword, Mahal gathered himself, before throwing up a thumbs up. Da Hote looked between him, his current project, and the kids. He quickly flicked his fingers, forcing the flames to come alive as figures became visible within the flames. They danced a ballet, a waltz, and all sorts of varieties of move sets as Da Hote walked over. Mahal looked back on the blade and the rest of the forge. Slowly, he let down the blade as a sickening ache anchored itself in his stomach. The smell of metal and fire told send a signal to his body to move away. ¡°What is on your mind?¡± A reply came to mind as flashes of blood and of moonlight mixed to make a bloody cocktail. But Mahal sat as he reluctantly picked up the blade, continuing the motion of cleaning and oiling the sword. Da Hote hugged Mahal, which startled him, but he quickly replied in the same manner. He nearly felt bad for the old man, as he held on to him as if he was dangling over a cliff. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, but Mahal still hesitated to place his hands on his back, as if a touch would make all of this crumble away. The hug lasted for a while, long enough to where the fires behind them started to die down, and the spell started to wane. Da Hote got up, patting Mahal on the shoulder before going over to the kids, and giving them a mini-lecture. Mahal got up, and looked over the workshop. He noticed that he had been doing that a lot as of recently. Every shield, spear, sword, and decoration had made space within his memory. ¡°Come along, Mahal¡± Mahal snapped back into reality, and followed Da Hote as they walked through the field. Just outside, town life was as lively as ever, Dhramian kids pranced around, with their parents collectively in an area which had chairs and logs. The buildings themselves were inspired from the single temple the Dhrami had on the ocean. Even after all this time, Mahal still took in the sight of the buildings everytime he could. They were nothing compared to buildings in the Elven capital he heard about, but that didn¡¯t matter. To see his people on land, living, playing, just evening existing: the Gods were more likely to die in his mind. And there were the fields. The sea of grass. He had never seen so much of it. If he were to lay down for even a second, he felt that he could drown in it. But something tugged at his brain. His mind couldn¡¯t comprehend this paradise clearly. But even as he tried to reassure himself, Mahal slowed down until coming to a full stop. ¡°Are you sure I¡¯m worthy enough to be here under your tutelage?¡± Da Hote laughed as he stopped and turned, ¡°My answer has not changed from the day before¡± ¡°What if mine has?¡± ¡°I would refuse it, then¡± Mahal almost said something else, but Da Hote already started to walk down. The path they took diverged from the main village, and instead cut right through the fields. Within a few minutes, they arrived at a dilapidated barn, with a set of rotten wood slabs used as doors. ¡°Is this yours as well, Da Hote?¡± ¡°You''re quite correct. Now, would you do an old man a favor, and open it for me?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Mahal did as he was asked. He looked around the door, looking for the least rotten part of it, before gently swinging it open. Inside, nothing special seemed to be inside, just a few old pieces of furniture, and some old engraved doors. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here-¡± As soon as those words were uttered, Da Hote spoke, ¡°Takidor ito tolva ib pabidir nagini buri pagna!¡± Mahal didn¡¯t recognize a single word as he backed away from the barn. The exterior itself stayed the same, but shifting noises inside made Mahal curious. The exterior would have suggested that the inside would¡¯ve been of equal room, but the inside expanded greatly. Heat even exhausted from out the door, crashing onto Mahal as he stood aside to let it dissipate. Once given a chance, he popped his head in Tables were strewn all about, with a giant forge that was triple the size of any forge Mahal had seen. Parts hung on either a series of racks, or hooks that were secured within the ceiling. But perhaps the most noticeable was a metal skeleton of a ship of sorts. Under it, a complex collection of parts, both small and large, were strewn about. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± ¡°Confused, surprised, ecstatic even?¡± ¡°The, uh, first two¡± Da Hote beckoned Mahal to follow him as he went inside, ¡°This workshop has been my master¡¯s, and his master¡¯s and such. And up there, as I hope you¡¯ve noticed, is one of the last things bestowed from your father, to you¡± Mahal looked at the skeleton again, and then at the table with parts on it. But underneath it, a series of scrolls flattened by the parts were also strewn about. Da Hote walked over to the table, and slowly pulled out one of the scrolls, ¡°When I die, I will bestow this place to you¡±. Mahal stayed silent as Da Hote looked over, before continuing, ¡°As long as I¡¯m correct, time is on our side, and that responsibility won¡¯t burden your shoulders for a stretch of time. At the very least, not until we finish this ship¡± The prospect caught Mahal, as he glanced over to Da Hote again. With several scrolls in his hand, he handed them over, as he said, ¡°I¡¯ll be traveling to the village for some of the materials. Feel free to inspect and even continue the progress from here¡± ¡°I can¡¯t¡± ¡°For all of your father¡¯s flaws and misconceptions, he was correct about one thing¡± Mahal raised his eyebrow to Da Hote, who shrugged as he joked, ¡°I can¡¯t quite remember. Perhaps at the end of this project, as long as you wish to participate, I¡¯ll have my memory refreshed enough to tell you. Do as you wish while I¡¯m away¡± As Da Hote exited the workshop, he paused near the doors, before turning around, ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Mahal. Surely this will turn right for us¡± Mahal swiftly placed the scrolls back on the table, before going to the corner, and sinking into it. He wanted to will himself to do something, anything, especially to look upon whatever it was that his father had started. He tried to close eyes, to maybe take a slumber and let Kakno??me? fill his head with dreams of anything. The Goddess¡¯s gift of dreams were usually his bright spots on days like these. But thoughts of that night slogged on to his thoughts. Blood filled the floor, and went up to his ankles. The lights of the forge turned into moonlight as it swayed away from him. Da Hote taught him to focus on the present, but his mind then went to his father¡¯s project. He taught him to focus on his senses too. But his mind filled with the metallic taste of blood. Every breath he took forced his body to stiffen, his mind to freeze. Even as his eyes refused to open, a pair of eyes met his gaze. Then a face. The wrinkles showed someone who was roughly middle-aged. There were a few scar marks that had healed over. The scent of the sea, the taste of the fumes of a forge, both flooded his senses as his eyes focused on the face in front of him. ¡°Father¡­ I can¡¯t. I have failed you in every conceivable way. I ask you permission to join you, wherever the end is¡±. Mahal sat there, silent as a tomb. How cruel was a world that gave him enough strength to live and remember? Words spilled into every inner part of his body. His brain knew he should say something. His mouth wanted to move. The scent of salt faded away as he realized he was in the workshop. how long he had sat there, he didn¡¯t know. Eventually he got up, and looked at everything else that he knew wasn¡¯t associated with his dad. Plans for different types of spears, swords, even things like arms powered by magic. The scrolls themselves were worn to a variety of degrees. He took one of the simpler looking swords, and started the process of making it. The warmth from the fires and from the metal were the only things to greet him warmly. His hammer felt cold in his hands, as if to try and force him away. ¡°Mahal, I¡¯m back! The metal merchant possessed quite the deal on metals from the Volous mines if one could believe it¡± Da Hote snapped his fingers as a cart drawn by a pair of horses wheeled itself in. As he led it in, he looked to Mahal, before briskly walking over. Da hote watched as Mahal¡¯s strikes were unwieldy and generally chaotic. The metal screamed as every other hit dented rather than shaping. As he raised his hammer, Da Hote grabbed it, ¡°Do not seek comfort in the fire. Please, talk to me. You know I will not judge you¡± ¡°Yes, but you would remind me of my father¡¯s death the same day you fortale of your own! You laugh and smile as if there is not a gaping hole, one that consumes me. Unlike you, I cannot pretend it exists, despite my best attempts¡± But as Mahal held himself in anger, Da Hote crumbled to his knees. He started to cough as he said, ¡°I know you suffer. Where there should be happiness, I see the void you hold. By the gods, I should¡¯ve known better¡± Mahal looked at Da Hote, who held his head low as the hammer fell to the ground. He looked towards his mentor, and sat on the floor, ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Expound¡± ¡°Why all this showmanship?¡± ¡°Do you wish for the long or short of it?¡± ¡°How about the medium of it?¡± Da hote let out a short snort as he said, ¡°I know what it''s like, to see one¡¯s guardian die. 900 years will give one a lot, but it will also take a lot. Or if you wish to really delve into my mind, perhaps somewhere, I see myself as your guardian, however inadequate I myself am. Or¡­¡± Da Hote stopped himself short, and instead grabbed the hammer again. He threw into the air a couple times, before grabbing hold of the head of the hammer. ¡°I cannot guarantee that my advice will always be the best¡±, he inspected it before handing it to Mahal, ¡°-but, I will give you the best I can¡± Mahal sat there for a few seconds, before silently taking the hammer, and walking to the table filled with the plans and parts. The hammer¡¯s grip was warm. Some runes that had been etched in now glowed in ancient silvery light. The little speech Da Hote gave him stirred something in Mahal. It didn¡¯t relieve, like he had hoped. But perhaps, they could find a solution. Some absolution.