The Beginning Ch. 25-26

"When they were working on his portrait, they'd initially thought to depict him with a sword, but nobody was really sure what the prevailing design of the time might have been. Spears haven't really changed through the centuries, so the decision was made to paint him with as ordinary a spear as possible— based on the fact that he was a sage, they assumed that he wouldn't have really gone for ornamental stuff— and to have one made and displayed below his portrait, as well."

"Why were his weapons lost?" I asked, slightly confused. "I assumed that a people as long-lived as Wielders are would be better at preserving pieces of their history."

"We usually are," Ronald answered. "His weapon— or weapons— went missing around the time he died. Some postulate that they might have been hidden away after his death, due to some innate degree of power that would make anybody who was to use them stronger than normal. Others believe that Irontooth might have destroyed them himself, believing that nobody else was worthy of taking them up. The bottom line is that they disappeared."

Something about the portrait nagged at the back of my mind. It was like something was off, but I had no idea why I was feeling that way, or what that even was about. Shrugging it off, I turned around to face Ronald, finally realizing that there was another door behind him.

Like the one that led into the Hall of Heroes, it was completely plain, but this one was made of burnished steel. The word "Forge" was stamped into a thick bar that ran through the middle of the door, but contrary to my expectation, I couldn't feel any heat radiating off it.

Ronald pulled the door open and motioned for me to walk in. To say that the interior surprised me would be adequate. It was a small, brightly-lit room, with seating along the walls and a receptionist's desk in the far corner, next to another unmarked steel door.

"A waiting room?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at Ronald.

He nodded at me, grinning widely, and motioning for me to have a seat. I had my pick of the place since it was otherwise empty, so I chose a seat that was facing the door on the far wall.

Ronald walked up to the receptionist, a male Wielder, Owl-Bonded, Tier 4, and had a hushed conversation with him. The receptionist just smiled and nodded, before getting up and quickly walking through the other door. It swung shut behind him before I had a chance to catch a glimpse inside, and Ronald just chuckled at the frustration that was painted on my face.

I knew the Academy liked its mystery and secrets, but his playing to them was starting to get on my nerves. I just wanted a straight answer or experience for once, damnit!

Luckily, I didn't have to wait for too long. The receptionist returned in a couple of minutes, a visibly older Wielder in tow.

She had white hair and wrinkled skin, but stood tall and proud. Unlike other female Wielders, she was dressed in a full-sleeved top that actually covered her upper body, ending in an upward flare at her waist. Two tiny slits ran up the sides of her top, and an Ant was embroidered across her chest. She was dressed in Tier 4's green.

"Ronald!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"I had to, Nana," he said, hugging her back with a laugh. "I really wanted to see the look on Chris' face when he met you!"

"Always the trickster," she declared with a laugh of her own, as they turned around to face me.

Ronald waved me over and I walked up to them, suddenly nervous and definitely confused.

"Chris," Ronald said, "I'd like you to meet Kassandra. My grandmother. Also, the head of the Weaponsmiths and the best smith at the Academy."

I don't know how long I stood there, just looking back and forth between them. The more I looked, the more I started noticing the small similarities between them. The most obvious one was that they had very similar eyes.

"It's okay to say it," Kassandra said with a sly grin. "I know that I'm positively ancient by your standards."

"Oh, come on, Nana," Ronald protested. "You don't look a day over eight-hundred."

"I'm no spring chicken," she said, turning to him, "but if you think I can't belt your bottom till you howl, you have another thing coming, young man!"

Ronald just laughed, putting his arms up in surrender.

"Let me take a look at you, boy," Kassandra said with a kind smile, turning back to me.

I walked over to her, and she placed both her hands on my cheeks, turning my face from side to side. I could feel a lifetime of callouses on her hands, even though her skin itself felt smooth. She abruptly let go, walking around me, muttering to herself all along.

"You have your father's structure," she said, as she came to a rest in front of me. "Strong arms and toned legs. Do you favor the sword?"

"I do," I responded, finally finding my voice. "I also use a quarterstaff and a bow."

"Double-edged sword?"

"Single."

"Single hilt?"

"Bastard hilt."

"Sword-breaker design?"

"Open to it."

"Eight-foot quarterstaff?"

"Seven."

"Short bow?"

"Short," I confirmed, with a nod.

"I like this kid," she proclaimed, looking at Ronald. "Better head on his shoulders than Michael. That boy just wanted the biggest, flashiest toys. Always told him that single-edged swords are better, but he never wanted to listen."

"But isn't that something that's down to preference?" I asked her.

"Definitely your mother's intelligence," she responded, turning back to me. "Your father would have challenged me to a duel for that."

"At one time," Ronald corrected her.

"Aye, at one time," she said, waving him away. "Still, smarter than your father. The one wise choice he made was marrying your mother. Stupidest decision she ever took, but that's another story."

"Nana!" Ronald chided her.

"Oh, fine!" she exclaimed, hand on her heart in mock hurt. "Visit your grandmother once a century, and don't even allow her to tell some stories. I see that my son had the biggest influence on you."

"I'm sorry, Chris," Ronald sighed. "My grandmother has a flair for the dramatic. Also, this is my third visit this century! Really, Nana, are you losing track of time?"

I expected Kassandra to chide him again, but she just burst out into laughter, the two of us joining her.

"For all of that," she said, rubbing a tear out of her eye, "I really was sorry to hear about their passing, boy. Your parents meant a great deal to our family. They were family, and I want you to know that you will always have a seat at my table."

"Thank you," I replied simply, unable to think of anything more to say.

"Enough dillydallying!" she exclaimed again, clapping her hands together. "We're here to fit you out. Let's get going!"

She turned around and marched towards the door leading deeper into the Forge, nodding to the receptionist on her way. Ronald and I followed suit, nodding to the receptionist as well, as I finally entered the Forge.

My first impression was that it was quiet. For a forge, there really wasn't much noise at all. No hammering, no clinking, nothing. It was a large space and did look "industrial", with bright overhead lights and concrete walls and flooring.

There were a series of kilns spread out across the left wall, maybe fifteen in all, though none of them were lit or being worked right then. I couldn't see any evidence of anvils or hammers or any other smithing tools. The only other person in there was at a counter at the far side of the room that looked like a display case at a clothing store.

"Take Chris to get his Armor while I get this furnace going," Kassandra said, pointing to the third kiln from the door. "Once he's kitted out, explain what he needs to do, and then make yourself scarce."

"Come on, Chris," Ronald called, already walking towards the counter.

I hurried after him, a smile spreading across the man at the counter's face as we drew closer.

"Ronald!" he called. "How long has it been, old friend?"

"Too long, Aman," Ronald replied, clasping the man's arm across the counter.

Now that we were there, I could see multiple sets of Armor sitting in the display cabinets. I could also see that the man was another Tier 4 Wielder, and Bonded to an Armadillo, which sort of tracked with how he was presumably an Armorer.

"And who is this?" he asked, turning to me.

"This is Chris Michaelson," Ronald replied, introducing me. "Yes, that Michael. He's here for a suit of Armor."

"Ah, in that case," the man said, turning around and dropping down to rummage through the cabinets, "we can't have him wearing anything but our best work."

He popped back up, a neatly-folded suit of Armor and helm in his hands.

"This is a suit I crafted myself," he said, by way of explanation. "It's some of my finest work yet. Aside from the regular enchantments, I've also interlaced the weave with lightweight, magically-reinforced Kevlar, which will work to protect you from any Mundane attacks, even if you're completely drained of Power. The Agrayodhin herself wears a similar suit."

"Thank you," I said, reaching out to take it. "You truly honor me."

"The honor is mine," he replied, bowing his head as he handed it to me. "Your father brought us many victories. I look forward to hearing of your own exploits."

I just nodded, unsure of how I was expected to respond.

"The Armor also houses slots for three Batteries and ten spells," he added, as I turned it around in my hands. "The discs you put into the slots will drain Power from the Batteries instead of from you, and can even be directed through special vents which were included within the weave."

"I'll be sure to put them to the best possible use," I responded, returning his bow.

He smiled and waved as Ronald led me back to Kassandra. The kiln that she'd chosen to use was roaring away now, the fire obviously magical, as there was nothing feeding it.

"Did you get your kit?" she asked, as we drew up to her.

"I did," I said, showing her the Armor in my hands.

"Good, good," she mused, before turning to speak to Ronald. "Have the boy activate his Armor and then explain the process to him, while I get myself ready."

She turned around and walked away from us, sitting cross-legged on a cushion that I hadn't noticed before. Once she was settled, she closed her eyes, seemingly about to meditate.

"Channel some Power into your Armor," Ronald instructed me, taking my attention away from Kassandra. "Just a tiny bit will do."

I followed his instructions, and as soon as I did, I felt myself Imprint on it. I was suddenly aware of all the enchantments woven into the fabric of the Armor, and just how to activate or deactivate them. The Armor became another passive presence in my mind, something that I could summon to my side whenever I wanted, just like my Implement. Nobody else would ever be able to use it.

"Good," Ronald said. "Now, I need you to listen to me, and to hold your questions till I'm done, okay?"

"Okay," I affirmed, looking at him expectantly.

"Forging a Wielder's weapon is a very intricate process," he started, slipping into teacher-mode. "For it to truly be a part of you, you need to do the actual forging. In order to do so, you are going to drop your defenses and open your mind to Kassandra."

"Drop my—"

"Not done, Chris."

"Right, sorry," I muttered, chagrined.

"You're going to open your mind to Kassandra, and she's going to take control of your body. You can choose to actively observe what she does next, but most people find the experience disconcerting and choose to drop into a meditative step, allowing their subconscious mind to guide the Weaponsmith. She will tell you when she needs you to actively participate, but other than that, she'll essentially work through you to make your weapons.

"Now, any questions?"

"Not really a question," I said. "I'm just not sure that I'm comfortable actually letting my guard down and inviting somebody into my mind, and then letting them take control of my body."

"It's the only way you can walk out of here with bespoke weapons," Ronald answered. "If you don't agree to do this, you're going to have to use the same general weapons that you've been using through the Proving. While it may not seem like a bad option, I need you to believe me when I say that it is. Go through with the Forging, Chris. We all did."

"You should do it," the voice in my head suddenly said.

"I didn't realize you were listening," I responded.

"I began when you formed a Bond with your Armor. The technique he described is one that was used even when I got my weapons. It is safe."

"You sound old when you say shit like that, you know? Continue, and I might just figure out who you are, after all!"

"That is my objective."

He went silent after that, and I could feel the lack of his presence. Turning to Ronald, I nodded my affirmation, and he smiled and patted my shoulder. I asked if he could hold on to my Armor while he waited outside, and he agreed, so once he left, I turned to face Kassandra. I noticed that Aman had left as well, and Kassandra and myself were alone in the Forge.

"What now?" I asked her.

"Mindlink," she grunted.

Understanding what she wanted me to do, I sat down in front of her, slipping into a meditative trance. It took a bit of effort, but I managed to establish a Mindlink with her, and when I opened my eyes again, we were standing in the blank expanse of our shared mindscape.

"I need you to let down your barriers and call on your Power," she said, walking towards the portal that led into my mind.

Even though all the instincts I'd built up over the last four years screamed at me to not do it, I decided to trust Ronald and the voice. Taking a deep breath, I let down my mental guard and allowed her to slip into my mind, while also tapping into my Power. I felt like I was locked out of my own body as she took control.

It was fucking disconcerting.

I was absolutely powerless as she made me open my eyes and stand up. She ran my body through a series of stretches and spins, possibly getting a feel for it, but I was just too uncomfortable to ask.

"We're going to begin now," I heard my own voice saying, her words sounding out through my mouth. "I shall work on a quarterstaff first, followed by a bow. The sword shall be last.

"As far as materials go, I shall be using Weildium, an alloy that I designed and developed. It can bear an infinite amount of magic, but is tedious to make and even harder to shape. So, it's a good thing that you have a lot of Power stored up, and that I have a few ingots of Weildium ready. This process will very possibly use all of both; especially since we're making three weapons.

"You are welcome to stay and observe, but know that if you try to take control from me, you could very well ruin everything. The decision is yours to make."

Remembering Ronald's advice, I retreated into a meditative state, receding from my own mind. I don't know how long Kassandra worked, but I could feel everything she was doing, including the Power steadily draining out of me.

It was a strange sensation.

I knew when she was raising my arm or moving my torso, but I had no idea what any of the movements resulted in. All I knew was that I was almost tapped out of magic, which was when she reached out to me, calling for my attention.

"Your weapons are ready. Interesting designs. All I need to know is whether you would like to name them," she stated, her voice resonating with exhaustion.

I was about to reply to the contrary, when a strange feeling ran through my body. A word sprung unbidden to my mind, one that I'd never heard before, but one I intrinsically understood the meaning of.

A word that would now grace the blade of my sword.

"Dharma," I said, an involuntary shiver coursing through my body as my mind formed the word.

Duty. Honor. Love.

I could sense that those words, when uttered with intent, with meaning, were suffused with their own power.

I had just shaped one of them.

Dharma. Duty.

I don't know what it meant for me to have done that. The ramifications of it. All I knew is that it needed to be done.

I had to be the one to claim Dharma. To claim Duty.

"It is done."

I felt her retreat from my mind, and gratefully took control and opened my eyes. I felt the wave of absolute fatigue washing over me, inscribing a name into my sword having sapped the last of my magic, and some of my life force.

"You should be grateful that I like you, boy," she said tiredly, as she slowly lowered herself to lie down on the ground. "Forming the Weildium that we used took me the better part of the last seventy years. I do not think that I will make any more of it during this life."

"I don't know how to express my gratitude to you," I whispered as I took in my weapons, unable to muster the energy to speak any louder.

They were bundled together and wrapped in a cloth that I didn't even have the strength to unravel. As much as I wanted to see the "interesting designs" that my unconscious mind had given her, I was much too tired to do that right then.

"Make the world a better place," she responded. "End this blasted struggle. Bring us peace. That is all the gratitude I need."

"I will," I promised her.

I just sat there in silence for a while, watching her slowly fall asleep. When I had the strength to do so, I gathered up my new weapons and shuffled my way out of the Forge. Luckily, Ronald and Rayka were both waiting for me outside, and the receptionist went to help Kassandra get home, while the two of them did the same for me. Rayka draped an arm around me and let me lean on her as we moved, while Ronald carried my Armor and weapons.

As we walked back through the Hall of Heroes, I learned that it was past nine at night, and that both of Rayka's battles had ended in resounding victories for her. Luckily, neither of them asked me much about the Forging, as I don't think I had the energy to maintain a conversation right then. It was only when we were within sight of the wooden door that I remembered my earlier resolution.

Disentangling myself from Rayka despite her protestations, I stumbled over to my parents' portraits, leaning on the display case that held their weapons for support.

"Agrayodhin Michael Eirineftís," I slurred, tiredly. "Bhisaj Swamini Lia Eirineftís."

"Your mother's family name," Ronald explained. "It's Greek for 'bringer of peace'. Your father preferred it to 'Henrikson', so he took her name when they got married."

"Eirineftís," I repeated, feeling a sense of comfort and belongingness as the name rolled off my tongue.

"Eirineftís."

*****

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