Mythshaper-Chapter 53: Dragonforge

I had missed how the Waygate operated during my first visit to Klearon, but this time, the Waygate Plaza was our first stop. Regrettably, we weren’t here to travel through the magical gate but to wait for another person to come through it.

Located in the inner city, the Waygate was one of the most secure places, alongside the sanctum. Sentinels stood alert on all sides of the plaza, deep blue and red uniforms draped over their shoulders, bearing swords or lances. I noted a few shapers available as well.

Surprisingly, despite the busy terminal, there wasn't any commotion, which was uncommon with such large crowds. People came and went at their own pace, some, like us, waiting on the hardwood benches.

The Waygate was protected behind walls and layers of runic obstructions, thwarting my wish to examine it. Unless we were planning to traverse through the gate, we weren't allowed near it. But that experience would have to wait for another time.

After the persistently long winter, spring had come and gone in a blur with nothing serious of note. No new rifts broke in the Candor Mountains, nor did any demons stray their way to harass the honest folk of Karmel Valley.

I had finally managed to craft a poorer imitation of the Aetherbound QuillPen for Rosalyn, though I was still at a loss as to what to make for Mum. For Father, I was planning an enchanted tabard, not the knightly kind, but one elegant enough to wear for most official business.

Mum was in complete agreement about keeping it all a secret from him until we finished the product. It was creeping up to be a long, drawn-out endeavour to have a tabard I was satisfied with, mostly because I had rarely worked with materials other than metal or wood.

At least we had finalised a design before our trip to Klearon. Now, all that was left was to procure the materials and go through a rather excessive amount of practice to succeed.

Materials were one of my priorities for this visit to Klearon, along with a visit to Klearon’s finest crafting emporiums.

Even after a season of practice, I was still hopeless at crafting the right gift for Mum. It didn’t help that I was working around the tight constraints of trying to craft something of greater value that fell within my current mastery of artificing. I was hoping those shops would have some articles of artistic brilliance—something that would finally inspire me in the right direction.

But of course, Mum's priority was entirely different from mine. She wanted to have me see one of her old acquaintances, a Dreamweaver, before I advanced further into the Shaper path. Since I had been experiencing nightmares whenever I formed an Aether root, Mum thought it was prudent to consult with an expert on the Path of Dream.

Without this, I could have advanced months ago, without the aid of essence tonics or needing to catalyse the process by investing high unallocated points. I had to stall my Essence Unification for a couple of weeks, fearing I might accidentally trigger the manifestation of my fourth Aether root.

It was only after weeks of letter exchanges that we got hold of a Dreamweaver. It kind of made sense, considering Dreamweavers were even rarer than Shapers. Mum was only acquainted with one, and the other she was aware of was the Queen Regent of Thera, no way for us to consult her.

"Magus Prisca is running late, as usual," Mum muttered after we'd spent half an hour on the bench. "She's had over a hundred years to correct this bad habit of hers, but I guess long life only made her more callous with time."

An Awakened usually had a longer natural lifespan compared to a common folk, but that wasn’t to say they lived longer. War, strife, and petty conflicts harassed them all too frequently to enjoy their extended years. Shapers usually lived longer, even among the Awakened, especially those who advanced to higher classes, but even above them were Shapers with a Life affinity.

None of that was my concern right now. I already had my priorities straight before making the journey.

"Can we go sightseeing in the shops until she comes?" I asked, gazing up at the striking sky, the sun reaching its zenith. "There's one just around the corner."

Mum glanced at the street, at the shop I was talking about, before turning back to me. "Someone needs to be here to greet her. Knowing her, Magus Prisca might just return through the Waygate."

Since Father wasn’t familiar with the Dreamweaver, Mum chose to remain in the waiting area as we strolled down the busy street to stand before the emporium. Sleek weapons and cutting-edge accessories were on display, secured behind tempered glass, to catch any passerby's fancy, but what caught my attention was the lofty name gleaming with a rune construct: Dragonforge.

I bet none of their items had anything to do with a dragon, I mused before entering with Father.

As soon as we got inside, fresh air and a controlled temperature enveloped us, making us feel at home. My eyes darted to the plastered walls, where the runic formations needed to create this channel of conditioned environment lay. Mum had devised something similar in our workshop, although that was mostly for fresh air. Dragonforge seemed to keep spring locked within its boundaries, which was the quintessential ideal environment—there were no hounding storms, and the weather was just right to flourish in all outdoor activities.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Good afternoon, sirs," chimed a feminine voice as an attendant in a regimental Dragonforge suit came to greet us. A grey blouse clamped on her shoulders nicely, a sleeveless overcoat atop it, complemented by trousers of the same tone. "How may I help you today?"

I turned to Father, who deferred to me, asking for my opinion, "What do you want to buy?"

I thought it to be outrageous to buy something for a higher price that you could make on your own, but it would be rude to say that outright to the attendant, who was looking at us with such a welcoming smile. I wondered if we would even be allowed inside if I mentioned I planned on only unearthing all their crafting designs with these shiny green eyes of mine.

"I'm looking for a gift for my Mum," I said instead.

The attendant shot a look towards my father before turning to me, the smile barely wavering on her lips. "Certainly, young sir, if you come this way."

The shop was large enough—larger than the bookshop we'd been to—that we needed her guidance. She led us to a section where ornaments were showcased behind tempered glass, as though they weren’t afraid of their articles being stolen. I didn’t even note any serious rune formation for such an outrageous display of surety.

Utilising my Fractal Sight, I began to assess all the fabricators on display. Some of them weren't even real Fabricators, merely naturally occurring objects carved into ornaments. However, many of them held some form of rune, mostly meagre runeworks that would make the jewel glow more. Anti-rust and Anti-decay runes were self-evident in some as well. A few of the rune formations were even concealed beneath a layer of obstruction, but my Fractal Sight had no trouble traversing through it to scrutinise their design.

[Congratulations! Way of Fractal Sight IV (100/100) is complete.]

[+8 Unallocated Points.]

[Way of Fractal Sight V (100/250) is now available.]

That had been a long time coming, although it still needed me to scrutinise dozens of fabricators. As I was flashing through the articles, my gaze finally paused on one.

"Can you show me that?" I asked the attendant. "Yes, that hairpin."

She handed me the ornate hairpin, which looked to be crafted from a blend between a charm and a traditional fabricator creation. The material wasn’t extravagant—cheap incandescent rock refined to appear luxurious—but the craftsmanship was incredibly neat. But even so, its usage as a hairpin was quite rigid. It had two pointy ends and would only be worn to keep the hair tied in a bun.

Then, my gaze turned to the price tag, and I was utterly lost. It was priced at 720 silver leafs, which I reckoned to be four times the crafting cost, even counting the artisan's fee, if I was to be generous.

"Good eye, young sir," said the attendant. "This Gemheart Hairpin is crafted by one of our gifted artisans. It has a—"

"Dusk Essence imbued in it, which gives the Calm Mind effect," I said. "That would hardly be effective on a Prestigious Class, or even Noble Class Awakened. The Disease Immunity enchantment seems interesting, but I’m too inexperienced to say how effective it will be."

The young woman blinked, but before she could reply, a boisterous voice rang out.

"Hoho, good eye, indeed," said an old man, striding towards us. He wore grey clothing as well, though his wasn’t regimental and looked more like common clothing. Shooting Father a glance, the old man peered at me, his gaze immediately lingering on the bracelet on my wrist. "I say what... compared to that bracelet you wear, all these are meagre trinkets."

My eyes narrowed. This old man was the first to recognise the Band of Protection for what it was, and that too with just one glance. One scrutiny with Fractal Sight allowed me to perceive the well of orange essence he was homing. Immediately, I stood straighter, wondering if the man before me was a master artisan like Mum.

"Can I examine your artifact, lad?" he asked, without even bothering to introduce himself. Finding me glancing at him with a guarded look, he laughed it off. "You don't have to remove it." As if that wasn’t enough, he bartered further. "I'll give you a large discount on anything you buy and even…"

"Ahem!" Father coughed, drawing the old man’s attention to him.

"Perhaps my old age is finally getting to me," he said, unflustered. "I didn't recognise you... sir?"

"We're not from around here," Father said. "Here on Klearon for some business."

"That I can tell," said the old man. "I am Marn Albenias, Master Artisan, though my days are wasted on catering to people. Welcome to our little establishment."

"Little" was a huge understatement. I had barely examined the ground floor, and there were three more floors above.

"We do have articles that can match that artefact of yours in craftsmanship," Master Marn said, "though we rarely sell them for money."

"Why not?" I asked, curious.

"The creation of an artifact is complex; selling them for even thousands of gold leafs doesn't compensate for the hassle and sacrifice required. Our founder's motto has always been to exchange the artifacts for essence-rich materials and to make connections with more influential people."

"What about relics?"

"We don't even leave those on display. If we get any, they are always delivered to the main branch in Nalanda for the family to handle. Hoho, but I must add that only a fool would sell something as rare as a relic. In times slightly worse than ours, wars have been waged for them."

His gaze returned to my bracelet. "Where did you get that artefact, young man? I can’t say I recognise the design. It looked outrageously defense-oriented to be made by any of Anvil's artisans. That old miser wouldn't allow it."

"My Mum made it for me." freёwebnoѵel.com

"Ah, that explains it," Old Marn nodded, palming his fist. "Only a mother wouldn’t mind the sacrifice required for such an item."

"Sacrifice?" A frown creased my brow. It was the second time he'd mentioned the word.

"Ah, you're not aware?" Old Marn inclined his head. "With your talk on the hairpin, I thought you'd know what it takes to create an artefact."

I craned my neck towards Father inquisitively.

Father sighed. "Your mother… she doesn't want you to learn about this. She said even the idea of it is dangerous for young, curious minds."

"What is it?" I asked, a trace of worry consuming my heart as I wondered what the sacrifice could be.

"I don’t understand the technicalities," Father said, his voice grave, "but as I understand it, your mother has to sacrifice her own essence threads to create the weave within the artefacts."

"But she said…" The words froze on my lips, my heart pounding. I clasped the bracelet on my wrist, the faux weave involving two hundred and fifty-six essence threads clear as crystal to my gaze. That number alone was four times the amount of a peak Common Class Awakened individual. But there was also the Aetherbound Quill Pen.

To strip away so many essence threads, even if to create an artifact… Yes, she would recover the essence threads, but my heart cried, imagining it. Is this why she never let me observe her crafting processes?

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