What Will Be | Book 2 | Chapter 27

Author's Note: Thank you all for your continued support. it means the world to me. For those of you not in my Discord, I shall offer an update as to the delays. 

As mentioned earlier, I visited family interstate. All part of the plan. What was not part of the plan was getting sick on the flight back. Thought I'd knock it out in a day or two. It got worse. I got so caught up dealing with it that I then totally forgot about ANZAC day which was really important to my late grandfather. I missed the dawn service and sort of fell into a bit of a 'I suck' spiral as a result since I feel like I let him down. That might be a little bit too much of a look into the occasional mess of a person that is me, but I figure part of being on these sites is the conversation, of sorts, an author has with their readers, so there you go. 

Am I better now? Mostly. I am writing again, which was one of the biggest hurdles. I take some solace from the fact that every experience I have, good or bad, might one day enrich my writing, or enrich me as a person. Sometimes it sucks to feel things, but those things are what make us human.  

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“Damn, kid, you almost had me thinking you were not completely dense.” Cruz chuckled to punctuate the insulting point, and insulted I was. We sat opposite one another in the dining hall, our monthly meetings carrying a touch of ritual about them after habit and convenience became something more. For all that much of what Cruz did still grated me, familiarity birthed tolerance, much like how living alongside a railway became less grating on the ears when weeks turned to months and months turned to years.       

“Oh? And what exactly is wrong with what I suggested?” I’d just finished outlining my plan for Advancement; Mana Sense and Movement would grow from Taming [Fudge], and I would prune the Recovery branch. Dogs were fast, dogs could sense stuff - it made sense to me. 

Evidently, Cruz had other thoughts. 

“There is nothing wrong with it, technically,” Cruz admitted. 

“So then what is the problem?” 

“Recovery as a Skill is just as valuable as your Perseverance, I think. It is broad in concept, you picked it up after your first Advancement and it synergises well with your Core Skill.” Cruz stopped idly scratching his ear to give me his full attention. “It is about as good as a foundation for a build one could ask for without having something extremely specific in mind.” 

I frowned as the implication became clear.

“And my current plan doesn’t utilize that. You think it is a waste.”

“Pretty much, but hey, it is not my build.” 

“Then what about the Taming branch?” 

Cruz raised an eyebrow before reaching for his mug.   

“What about it?” 

“Say I take Mana Sense for Taming and Movement for Recovery, would that not-” 

“I am going to stop you right there,” Crus interrupted before taking a quick sip and setting the mug back down. Droplets of tea clung to his facial hair where they spilled out from the mug mid-sip. “I said my piece. If you want more advice, I am not the man to ask.” 

I felt my forehead tense at the spike of annoyance that the words inspired. 

“Today is the day you have to answer.”

“Listen. Dumbass. That answer is the best one I can give you. You have your Build, I have mine. We have almost zero overlap. It would be like me telling Mira what she needs to do to break rocks better or some shit. Figure it out yourself, find someone with a similar build, or go talk to a Gardener. That last one is for if you want a stack of philosophy to wipe your ass with.” Cruz matched my agitation and spat it back at me.  

“I did have it figured out, then I asked you and now you have me questioning it.” 

“My point exactly. Asking me was probably a bad idea then.” Cruz shrugged. “Disregard my thoughts on the matter, if you want.” 

Easier said than done. I’d grown so fixated on the idea of hyperfocusing on Taming to squeeze out its potential that I hadn’t properly considered how Movement might benefit from being part of the chain for Recovery. Already I was running through the potential benefits. 

“I want to clarify something more general, then,” I said. Cruz leaned back on his chair but I knew he was still listening. “I know that borrowing Fudge’s mana with Taming can help me move faster and whatnot. Obviously, if I pick up Movement later the Skill will also help with that. They will be in different chains if I connect Movement to Recovery, so if I try to use both, then-” 

“Yes, they will both help. You learned more about synergy from the retired guard, right? The chain is more than its parts. What you are describing is just the parts.” Cruz yawned and moved to stand up. “If that is all for now, grab your shit and come outside with me.” 

I narrowed my eyes. 

“Why?” 

Cruz pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do not make this a bigger thing than it needs to be. I need to give you an actual lesson today.”  

“No, but seriously, why?” Cruz had answered the question about my Skills well enough that I had a lot to think about. Again. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the plan I promised to stick to rattled the last of its death throes. 

“I hear a lot of talking and not a lot of shutting up and grabbing your shit.” Cruz started leaving and I was too curious not to follow along, leaving a pile of dirty dishes on the table for Wynn to find later. Fudge yawned and rose to his feet to fall in to step beside me as I did so. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

Cruz led me to a far corner of the manor grounds, one I hadn’t visited since my first day when Mira showed me around. Before long, chemical-y smells assaulted my nostrils and Ohchio’s workshop came into view. I’d given Fudge his release command and he’d put some distance between himself and the harsh odours coming from the place; I was especially sympathetic now that I had some experience with an enhanced sense of smell myself.  

“What are we doing here?” I asked. 

“Grabbing your shit. Oi, Ohchio!” Cruz didn’t wait for a response before he called out to the crafter I still had yet to meet. Moments passed by without a response. Instead of simply repeating the cry like Mira did, Cruz frowned and raised his voice. “Ohchio! If I have to come in there and contaminate your precious samples so help me I will!” 

I remembered Mira’s warning about wandering into Ohchio’s workshop and wondered how much of Cruz’s threat was bravado. Again, moments passed by but Cruz looked decidedly more relaxed. When I heard the sound of glass breaking and a man cursing, I realized why. 

“For the record,” Cruz said softly without looking my way, “Ohchio is- ah, you will figure it out.” 

I gave Cruz a flat look that he summarily ignored. Before I could protest the fuckery further, the door to the workshop opened. Boasting a broad chest, thick leather apron dotted in stains, and a wild, horseshoe hairline, Ohchio was a single ‘Great Scott’ away from falling into a stereotype. 

“System damn it all, Cruz,” Ohchio bellowed in an octave that didn’t quite match his frame. “I specifically asked them to never send you to- Oh. Hello. You must be the new kid. Good to finally meet you.”   

“Likewise,” I said while taking a small step away from Cruz. 

“Give me what I came for, old man, and we will leave you to play with your monster bits,” Cruz drolled. 

“I do not play I- No. I will not waste my time with you.” 

“Good.” 

“Grand.” 

I raised my hand slightly.

“Should I give you two a moment, or?” 

“Shut it.”

“That will not be necessary.” 

Ohchio sighed. 

“What was it you needed? Right the knife, I-” A flash of embarrassment crossed his features. “Right. About that. I forgot to finish that.”

The knife? I looked back towards Cruz with renewed suspicion. It almost sounded like-

“Well, do it now. Rush job is fine. He will grow out of it.” 

Ohchio rubbed his chin, visibly weighing the situation. 

“Right. Fine. Rather not have you come bother me later. I already processed the claws, at least, and I could use the practice. Wait here.” He spun and walked back into the workshop, leaving Cruz and I alone. 

“So… you got me a present?” A rush job present, but still. 

“Do not look too deeply into this.” Cruz picked at his nose and started rolling up the resulting gunk into a ball between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Why? Worried I might think I am growing on you?” 

Cruz flicked the ball in my direction and I tried not to flinch. 

“Shut it.”

“Thank you.” 

Cruz didn’t respond. 

Blegh. Yeah, I regret that. It felt wrong to try and have a moment there. Best not to force it. 

Some kind of bird squawked in the vague distance and each second seemed to drag through the awkward silence until Ohchio put us out of our misery with his return. He emerged with a small, wooden crate-basket-thing in his arms with a few tools and other odds and ends poking out the top of it. 

“You two just sit tight,” Ohchio called over his shoulder as he made his way to the small smithy attached to the workshop. 

I was, by no stretch of the imagination, a blacksmith. I’d watched dudes with beards and jeans make swords on television a few times, I’d read more than one vague explanation of the craft in a novel or three, and I once wrapped some aluminium foil around a cardboard cutout of a sword. I knew practically nothing.

Even so, I knew what I watched Ohchio do was outside of the ordinary. Despite being told to wait, I shuffled slightly closer so that I might watch the process. Ohchio loaded fuel into the forge, lit the flame, grabbed the bellows and set to work. Within a handful of pumps and in defiance of science, the heat radiating from the place bordered on blistering. 

Ohchio reached into the crate, withdrew a lump of metal and tossed it into the forge. Another few pumps of the bellows later, he went to withdraw it. I had recollections of this part of the process being done with tongs. Ohchio used his bare hands. The metal that came out was glowing yellow, and as Ohchio turned to place it on the anvil I caught a glimpse of the almost manic focus that had settled over his expression.       

With one hand holding the heated metal, the other rose in a fist that slammed down with an audible clang as the metal gradually flattened beneath the repeated blows. At no point was the ingot returned to the forge, the metal seemingly unable to surrender its heat while within Ohchio’s grasp. At one point, his lips split into a grin that bared his teeth, lost in the process of creation as he was. 

From within the crate Ohchio withdrew a jar and opened it, pouring its powdered contents on top of the metal. He folded them into the metal, his work only interrupted by the impossible clang of fist against the glowing hot ingot. Beneath his hands, I watched the shape of a blade take shape, too stunned by the absurdity of it all to appreciate any of the actual craftsmanship involved. 

Ohchio lifted the blade and blew on it, a sharp huff, like blowing out a candle. A flash of light and heat exploded from the blade, hurting my eyes. I heard Cruz snicker behind me, but a quick pulse of Recovery was enough to solve the issue. I do not know how many steps of the traditional process Ohchio was able to skip or what Skills he used to do so, but to my untrained eye there seemed to be a perfect blade in his hand after the barely ten minutes he spent in the forge. 

He wrapped the handle in leather and ran his fingernail along the blade to sharpen it. I finally realized what Cruz was certain I would figure out. 

This guy is strong.

“All done,” Ohchio announced, visibly relaxing as if coming down from a high. “I whipped up a sheath before coming out.” Sure enough, he withdrew one from the crate. I was almost certain that was supposed to be done last for the sake of measurements, but when Ohchio sheathed the blade, it was a perfect fit.

Before leaving the smithy, Ohchio rested a hand on the still fiery forge and stomped his foot. Within moments, the fire was extinguished. A stone built into the forge, one darker than the rest that had escaped my notice until then, glowed with heat for the briefest of moments before returning to its dull complexion.   

“That was incredible.” I offered honest praise as Ohchio approached, earning a smile from the man. 

“It was also a rush job, but I can assure you that you will not be disappointed.” He drew the blade again, holding it up for closer inspection. The handle was longer than I expected, and the edges gradually curved into a point. While I may not have been at all versed in the smithing process, I had a vague understanding of weapons from my brushes with history and fantasy across all kinds of mediums. 

It looks like a Seax, I decided. 

“I infused the tehon claws into the metal and kept the concepts simple. The blade should keep its edge especially well and- you do know how to care for one of these, right?” He pulled the blade away slightly, as if suddenly concerned to hand it over. 

“Sort of,” I replied honestly. “I know the theory and can ask my teacher to help with the practical.”  

“Wise.” Ohchio looked back at Cruz. “I think I prefer the Skill-touched kids from regular ones. They are usually less dumb.” 

Cruz didn’t answer verbally and I didn’t see his reaction.

“I will take that as the compliment I am sure you intended it as,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Works for me.” Ohchio handed me the seax. “Anyway. Tehon claws. Sharp blade. Look after it.” He did not wait around for small talk or other pleasantries. Ohchio returned to his workshop with my hurried thanks on his tail and closed the door behind him. 

Once again, it was just Cruz and I. 

“Well, that was c-” 

“You got your shit? Good. Follow me. We are not done yet.” He turned and started heading back the way we came. I rolled my eyes and moved to follow, sparing a look over my shoulder back at the strange workshop. No matter how much I learned about the world, there was always something new to surprise me. 

Now I just need to figure out how to attach a sheath to my belt.