165, 1/2

The Smithy, the noble district, and the administrative district, each had their own floating platforms that held in the air above the main landmass of Enduring Forge, with each location about equidistant from each other. The three platforms were essentially the points of a triangle above the main city.

Looking up at those three platforms from the streets of the main city was not nearly as claustrophobic as Erick had expected, even if the roads here were sometimes thin. Being underground wasn’t that bad, either. Having a full squad of five guards in thick black armor escorting him, though? That was claustrophobic.

The second Erick had stepped out of his appointed rooms there was a guide waiting for him. Erick had made no effort to hide his plans to start his visit at the visitor’s center, but still, it was a bit odd to have his needs so perfectly met, and with a private guide, to boot. The guide was disarmingly cheerful and acquiescent, too, which made it a pain to tell the mousy man that his services as a guide were not exactly what Erick wanted; he just wanted some direction. The five guards were… also a lot, but they were not superfluous.

Those soldiers mostly kept the locals from coming right up to Erick and lavishing him with praise, but that didn’t stop the people from trying. Some of them yelled out thanks and tried to get closer, only to have a blackguard gently push them out of the way with their shield. The citizens didn’t seem to mind this, though. They accepted the pushes. Most stepped away before they required a push, though.

And all the while, flowers fell down from second and third floor windows, along with thanks and cheers.

More than one young lady even flashed her boobs at Erick, calling out how much they’d like to personally thank him for his service to the world.

The guide, Jalrock, was extremely embarrassed about it all, and more than once he called out people by their names, to tell them to put their shirts back on.

It’s not like Erick was on any major streets, either.

In some ways the attention was nice, but mostly… It was claustrophobic.

Erick tried to laugh it all off anyway, saying, “Very relaxed atmosphere here.”

And yet…

Too many people looking his way. A bit too bright. A bit too loud.

Jalrock whispered to Erick, “I am so sorry, Savior. This is not normal—” He stared at a woman who threw some panties out of her window, saying, “Tulai! I’ll tell your mother on you!”

The mother in question came out to stand beside her daughter, asking, “Waking me up from my nap. What fool thing is going on— Oh my Bright Gods. Is that the Savior!”

“Yes, mom!” Tulai said, “And those are my panties on the ground beside him.” She waved at Erick. “Yoo hoo!”

The mother’s eyes went wide, but not at her daughter’s actions. The mother leaned out from their shared window, waving as she shouted, “My sister is alive because of you! Thank you!” Then she slapped her daughter on the arm, saying, “Have some respect! He’s got a mana sense so he can see what you’re offering already!”

Erick’s cheeks flushed because, yes, he did have a mana sense. Oh, boy, did he have a mana sense. He almost wanted to shut it off as he walked down this road, to their lunch destination, but he did not.

They seemed to pass a bottleneck not too much further, leaving the crowded street behind, though a few people still trailed after Erick and his entourage. The guards stopped a lot of that following, though.

Soon, they arrived at their target.

Walking into ‘Hothalls Chamber of Spice’ was an unfun experience.

There was some sort of [Airy Spice Ward] in the entrance hall, alongside a sign that said, ‘If you can’t handle the heat, don’t enter the Hothall!’. Erick could practically feel his taste buds bursting into flame with every breath he took. The scent in the air had Nirzir holding back tears, while Poi and Teressa both just held their breath. Jane relished the scent, though. She breathed deep and smiled wide.

Erick was very tempted to [Dispel] the offending magic.

He did not, though.

Erick ordered a normal meal of rice and steak, with a half-star heat rating, AKA baby slime rating. ‘For the infirm, elderly, and babies of all kinds’. Erick was certainly a baby, yes; this was fine.

Jane enjoyed self-harm in the form of a 12 star entree.

That dish would come out with its own personal spherical [Air Ward] that ensured the poison inside didn’t spread to others, for it certainly would have spread; the rice and sauce and fried chicken swirled some sort of orange and red glow into the protected space. According to the menu, the red glow was a form of poison. [Cleanse] would have knocked the meal down from a 12 star rating (‘for demigods and the dumb’) to a 10 star rating (‘for army generals and archmages’).

No; Erick did not want to try it. He was perfectly happy with his meal for babies.

Jane’s was so strong, a fully-armored waiter had to bring it to the table. That waiter was even dressed up in reflective silver [Conjured Armor], which Erick suspected was exactly the same sort of armor that would prove useful when dealing with steel smelting, or heavy duty Smithing. The restaurant was hamming it up, of course.

But the dish did contain poison.

Jane’s eyes watered as the waiter brought the dish next to her, allowing her to experience the red glow before he set it down in front of her. When Jane just smiled wide, the waiter set down the food like it was a bomb waiting to go off. Jane laughed. Her nose ran. Her face tinted a bit red, but she just smiled, and said, “It’s beautiful.”

Everyone else, by this point, had scooted their chairs away from her. The waiter watched to see if Jane would cower, or persevere. Every nearby person watched. A few new people even showed up to try to get a glimpse of the new challenger of ‘Red Wall’, the name of the dish that now sat in front of Jane.

Even Erick watched, enraptured, as Jane stuck her fork into a bit of red chicken, and pulled it out of the red morass of liquid pain. The rice and the air sparkled as she lifted the bite up, closer to her mouth. Tears already flowed down her face.

Erick broke the silence all around, saying, “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

Jane took the bite.

Silence descended.

Tears flowed. Her face reddened. Her eyes took on a red tint. Even the roots of her hair turned from brown to the barest reddish. That was apparently normal, though. If she ate the whole thing, her whole countenance would turn bright, neon red until the next time she [Cleanse]ed herself. Apparently, the spice that produced this effect was a happy accident from the attempted invention of a beauty product.

Jane swallowed. The roots of her hair turned bright red. Her irises took on a definite red tint.

The watching crowd erupted in cheers. ‘Eat eat eat!’

But then Jalrock started telling people to, “Disperse! Disperse! Even Saviors of Light gotta eat and you all saw your show! Disperse!”

Teressa, meanwhile, lifted up her veil and gave a gleeful grin at Jane, saying, “I bet you can’t finish the whole thing.”

Jane scowled, though the effect was much diminished by her tears and snot. She took a second bite. After a while, she swallowed.

“Are you taking Health damage?” Erick asked, trying not to be too concerned.

Both he and Nirzir were too entranced to eat. Teressa had no such problems. She smiled as she ate. Later, Erick would notice that Poi seemed to specifically eat between Jane’s bites. Perhaps he was second-hand tasting everything that Jane tasted, and it was not a fun experience?

Jane finished off her third bite, then squeaked, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

At the end of lunch, Jane had finished her whole meal, and as people cheered and she shook the hand of the Cook, she got her image captured in a lightpainting by one of the waiters who was good with that. Jane’s hair and eyes were shockingly bright red. Her image joined the rest of the images hanging on the ‘Winner’s Wall’.

As they left the restaurant, having not paid for anything because the owner would not accept payment from the Savior of Light, Erick decided that he could probably try a 1 star meal, the next time.

Jane had joked about trying a 13 star meal from their ‘secret menu’ when she was near the Cook of Hothalls, whereupon the man smiled and said she was now qualified to try that, if she wanted.

They would be going back at least once more.

– – – –

The Black Blade was both the name of the high-class front offices of the Adamantine Smiths, and of an ancient weapon held under heavily enchanted glass in the middle of their main showroom.

Getting to that main showroom usually required going through a few checkpoints, all of them crawling with guards and requiring people to submit to a lot of checks, but Jalrock made those checkpoints trivial.

And now, Erick and his people were here, in the main showroom, looking at blocky black armor and blocky black swords and shields and everything in between. Adamantium armor was not fancy; it was utility made manifest. Form matched function, and nothing else.

Other people spoke with Smiths here and there, while a few more scattered people looked at weapons and otherwise like they were buying expensive cars. It was a pretty apt metaphor, Erick decided, for even the smallest of daggers, weighing in at half a kilogram, cost 25,000 gold. A Poi-sized set of full plate armor looked to cost 1,500,000 gold, and weigh about 30 kilos. A Teressa-sized set of armor would set Erick back nearly 8 million gold, and weigh in at 160 kilos.

Erick realized that he could not buy this entire place all by himself.

For the first time, he had met his financial match.

While that particular revelation was kinda funny, what was not funny was the namesake of this place.

The Black Blade, the sword, was a hunk of dark metal with the blade two meters long, and a handle that was easily large enough for two hands. It would be the perfect sword for an orcol to use in a single hand, but on anyone else, it resembled more a plank of iron, than like a real, usable weapon. And it floated inside a glass cage, just like how a certain person’s weapon also floated when not in use.

Erick recognized the weapon, because he had seen it multiple times by now.

Erick said, “That’s the weapon Goldie uses.”

There were differences, though; subtle, but still there. This was not the exact same weapon the Shade of Assassination used, but it was close.

While Nirzir, Jane, and Teressa, all realized what Erick was saying at about the same time, Poi already knew the deal. He was already worried, though he was doing a great job of hiding it.

There were at least two reasons for this similarity. Either this place had ties to the Shades, or else they were forced to capitulate to Ar’Kendrithyst’s demands like all the other nations of the world. Probably the latter, now that Erick turned the thought over inside his head, inspecting it for paranoia and finding lots.

Now that Erick was here, and having these sorts of thoughts, he wondered, exactly, how much Ar’Kendrithyst had affected Enduring Forge. Probably lots.

Adamantium was black, after all. The Shades loved black. But they also liked opulence. And everything Erick saw before him was blocky and utilitarian, with zero adornment at all save for discreet runes inscribed on the insides of armors, on the backs of shields, and on other hidden locations.

There was a history there, and it was probably much more complicated than Erick could put together in a few seconds of seeing Goldie’s weapon on display in the middle of the main showroom.

Jalrock brought Erick back to the moment, saying, “The Black Blade hasn’t left that case in hundreds of years. We have made copies of the weapon based on that design, though. Perhaps you have seen one of those?”

“… You’re obviously right.” Erick nodded.

Jalrock nodded, then moved right along, saying, “If you have any questions I can start you off on some answers, but they will be surface answers until we can get a— Ah! There they come now.”

A woman and a man rapidly came out of a side hallway and fixed their eyes upon Erick. Recognition. The man held back, but the woman began a much more sedate, professional walk toward Erick now that her prey was in her sight.

Upon reaching Erick the woman introduced herself as Verizag, one of the senior sellers of the Black Blade. She led him to a desk, with her sitting on one side and Erick on the other.

Verizag asked, “Where would you like to begin your order? Anything specific you’re looking for?”

Erick explained, “Two ritual carving weapons for runework, one for me, another for Nirzir Void Song here. A flying sword for my daughter, Jane. A suit of armor to replace my guard, Poi’s, armor. And a flying shield for my other guard, Teressa; one in her size. If you have any suggestions though, then I am open to them. I haven’t gotten a chance to look over your whole showroom, nor do I know what I am buying, exactly. I only know that you’re the best, and your stuff doesn’t break. That is why I am here.” Erick didn’t want to seem too eager, though, so he digressed, “But honestly, I am not sure why people use metal armor and weapons. It seems like investing in a weapon is asking to get it stolen, or broken. That is what Shades loved to do to all the adventurers who brought that sort of stuff into Ar’Kendrithyst. This was one of the main warnings we gave to people, actually. ‘Don’t trust that anything you take in there will remain under your power’.”

Verizag had looked delighted to be near Erick, and to take his order, but she almost shut down at the mention of Shades. Professionalism quickly followed, though; she was both determined to prove the power of the Adamantine Smiths, and to make a sale. She said, “When dealing with out-sized powers, as per your example, then we can give you no guarantees on the security of the weapons we create. But for everything else, from bandits to Decaying hydras, and especially against telekinetic rippers, our weapons and armor —properly used— have proven themselves thousands upon thousands of times over against those sorts of threats. I challenge any mage of the sixth tier or lower to rip away an invested adamantium weapon, or to latch onto the armor made of the same; they will fail, as they have failed many times before. Even [Metalshape] doesn’t work against adamantium, unless the user is an Adamantine Smith.” She said, “And even in such a case, once adamantium sets, even an Adamantine Smith would have trouble reshaping it. If we could do that, then the very adamantium that holds together Enduring Forge would have been snatched away by bandits and rogue Smiths long, long ago.”

Erick gave no indication that he was impressed, but he was. He said, “You’re going to need to go over the properties of adamantium for me. I haven’t had much experience with that, at all. Where does the process of adamantium creation start? Is it an alloy, or a metal unto itself?”

Verizag nodded. “In its untempered form, adamantium is most often found with copper and nickel, but once it is refined, we end up with a solid silver metal with a faint blue tint that is heavier than gold but in this form it is unusable. It is too hard, too brittle, and breaks too easily. It’s also highly toxic—”

Was it Osmium? It sounded like osmium.

“— but through refining, the addition of mana, and many other metals, the main one which is starsteel, untempered adamantium transitions from silver to something darker. Once the adamantium reaches the point of blackness, like a starless, moonless night, then comes pouring and forging. While the untempered metal can wait around for as long as needed, once the process of final smithing begins, it cannot be stopped, or else the adamantium is ruined.”

Not fully osmium, then. Actually a bunch of different metals. Erick had heard of starsteel spoken right alongside celesteel and hellite, but he didn’t know what starsteel actually was. He didn’t know what the other ones were, either. There were a ton of magical metals and Erick didn’t know about any of them, except for maybe Deep Sky Silver. He was pretty sure that one was (somehow) magical silver.

Verizag continued, her eyes seeming to get brighter as she got more animated, “But with an adamantium weapon in hand, or armor on your body, and with the casting of magic into that item, you will begin the attunement process. For adamantium items, properly runed, can take in spellwork and you can use your [Force Weapon] through a sword, or your [Conjure Armor] as your adamantium armor, allowing them both the power of the adamantium, and the security of a Force spell in their control!” She realized she was speaking too loudly, and calmed. “It is this capability —and the accompanying runework— that makes adamantium so much better than every other metal out there, for adamantium takes in the spellwork it is provided, and multiplies that spellwork through the capability of unbreakable adamantium.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Instead of a generalized enchantment that you can keep powered with crushed core dust, or by storing your flying sword near a grand core, you can use your own mana and your own spells to keep our adamantium items empowered.

“We can even work with you if you have specific, standard spells you wish imbued into your weapons or armor. [Flying Sword] is a popular choice and we already have many of those swords available.” The woman said, “In short, adamantium allows anyone to wield what is basically an artifact of their own making, under their own, personal control.”

Verizag smiled brightly, knowing she had nailed her speech.

Erick was suitably impressed. He glanced around the room, looking at the weapons and armor in a new light. Then he turned back to the woman. “What about imbuing truly odd spells?”

With full confidence, Verizag said, “Adamantium can handle almost any spell that you know of, as long as you have the Ancient Script with you. We can even work with you in the creation process if you wish to enchant a spell of your own into the metal, but this will create an item that only you, or someone with your same spells, could ever use.”

“Ah…” Erick said, “Well that’s slightly disappointing. I do not have the Ancient Script.”

Verizag confidence did not falter; it grew. She strongly said, “You would need to speak to one of our Rune Smiths about uncovering the Ancient Script of your odd spells, but they can uncover the meanings behind most magic under tier three! If I may ask: What spell were you thinking of?”

“[Gate] is only tier 1, but that’s a ridiculous request. All of my spellwork is nonstandard, actually, so I’ll have to bring this up with Grosgrena or your Rune Smiths later.”