Chapter Three Hundred And Thirty Two - 332Harn wasn't sure why he'd climbed the tumbled scaffolding alongside the cliffs, except that something inside felt...different. His core space had trembled for the smallest of moments, a hammer the size of the Guild tower smashing into an anvil built from the heart of a mountain. The warrior had felt the lurch in his channels, a surge of power that made him dizzy.
What caused it? he wondered for the fifth time. He was standing at the broken open entrance to the Nymean Temple, gazing into its sundered depths. The majority of the space was dominated by the gargantuan trunk of the Spirit Tree, though Harn could see a number of gaping holes in the flooring that led to levels far deeper. The tree itself was smooth and, for lack of a better word, muscular with a twisting bole that felt powerful for all its fixed rigidity. It was a darker shade of cool brown, with large horizontal bulges cut across it like huge, healed over scars. Harn could feel a distinct pressure from it, as if from a combatant leveraging their Spirit. But that hadn't been what he felt.
Other than the Spirit Tree, the first floor of the Temple was filled mostly with rocky debris. Yet in the far corner, near the once-locked green-metal doors, were a set of stairs that had not been there before. They too were covered in broken rock and loosened stone, but they were dressed stone and his Perception caught angles that hadn't ever been worn down by tread or time. They were new.
And he felt something...humming from above.
Harn took the steps quickly, but cautiously, one of his axes in hand. The flight was relatively short, and it led onto a landing that spread outward for twenty strides. A six-sided lamppost had been erected in the center of the landing, more grown than constructed, and the floor detailed with those same star-shaped tiles. Within the hexagonal crystal casing was a flickering flameit alternated between blue-white and red-gold. Three more staircaseseach as newly constructed as the firstextended upward to his left, right, and ahead. The paths bore into the stone above the Temple, and the tunnel walls were carved into intricate patterns of vines, stars, and various animals, all tangled together like knotwork.
The staircases weren't the same, though the dizzying patterns were a bit hard to follow even with his Perception. Yet only one path still called to him. Harn followed the instinct slower than before, his senses extended as far as he could manage. As he approached a door atop the right-most flight of stairs, Harn could smell a slight char to the air, and the distinct tang of hot metal. The door itself was heavy and a handspan thick, made of gleaming steel and stamped with the symbol of a burning eye surmounted by a crown.
He pushed it open, and the door swung easily on silent hinges.
"Blind gods," Harn whispered.
The chamber before himone of several, he could tellwas huge, measuring at least sixty stride across and twice that in length. The walls were studded with large stone and iron furnaces, half built into more knot-like patterns of stars and vines. Row after row of tables and counters flanked the furnaces, as well as racks of basic forging tools he recognized from long ago. Dominating the center of the room was a large and impressively complex seeming forge, shaped to look like the yawning mouth of some great, whiskered beast. A faint, yellowish flame flickered in its basin, enough to glow brightly in the dim hall. That is, until Harn stepped fully into the room, whereupon Manalamps lit up the walls with a steady, white illumination.
Beautiful. Harn walked through the crafting hall, his hands gently caressing the tools laid out in neat rows atop a nearby table. A hammer found its way into his hands, a thing with a head the size of large melon, and the warrior hefted it with appreciation. Solid tools. Was this always here?
The hall felt familiar to Harn in a way all forges did; he'd grown up beside one after all. His core space was something he called the Armory, where his Skills were weapons forged by the power of his core, that massive hammer and anvil constantly striking against one another. Skills lined the walls of his Armory, much like the tools here were presented, each one with a use and function.
"Oh Harn, hey."
The warrior froze, having become so distracted he hadn't even noticed the presence of another. Felix stepped out of a cleverly worked door featuring realistic-seeming vines, his face wide and smiling.
"I didn't expect anyone would come up here. Do you need something?" he asked.
Harn let out a breath. "No. I was just...What is this place? I know it's a forge, but where'd it come from? You never mentioned it before."
"Oh, that's because it's new." Felix waggled his hand. "Sorta. Got it from the System when I completed a Quest and then my Stronghold just sorta...built it." Harn grunted, not exactly understanding, but knowing enough not to ask any dumb questions. If the kid said it was a System reward, then it was; Harn had seen stranger things than a self-building room. "In fact, I came up here because Karys said I needed to inspect the place. It's pretty interesting, to be honest. Lotta arrays in these walls."
"Oh?" Harn raised an eyebrow. Arrays in the walls? "What're they doin'?"
Felix pointed at the lamps and then the furnaces in the walls. "Ignition scripts for the furnaces and illumination ones for the lamps, as well as a big ambient siphon that I noticed in the floor." He tapped his foot, his armored greaves ringing lightly against the smooth and polished stone. "I think it's a heat sink. Seems to pull from those tub things over there as well as generally from all over the Forge."
Harn glanced at where Felix pointed and nodded. "Quenching basins." He walked closer and noticed all of them save the one for water were empty. "You use different liquids on metal to cool and harden a piece after workin' it. Water, oil, even heard of monster blood bein' effective."
"Interesting," Felix said, and Harn was surprised to find that he was; the kid seemed to be fascinated by everything. "The rest of the arrays all seem centered around the forge itself and this anvil."
Harn believed it. The forge was an impressive looking beast in itself, while the anvil Felix had pointed out was made of a dark metal that he'd almost missed, despite its size. And it was big, at least as wide as Harn's shoulders and standing on a hexagonal plinth. The thing looked to weight as much as Pit.
"That anvil and the forge beside it are the focal points of this Hall's pattern," said a new, grand-sorta voice from behind him. Harn didn't bother to look, as he'd already seen the faint wisps of green-gold Mana hanging about Felix's waist, but it was rightful strange that he had a talking sword. "I am positive you will find some unique formations centered around this place."
Harn felt pang as he looked at the anvil, at the tools all around him. Felix noticed. Sharp kid.
"Harn? You okay?"
"Fine. Just rememberin'," he said. "My uncle had an innI told you about him before, yeah?" The kid nodded and Harn ran a hand over the dark anvil. It felt harder than normal metal, the metal Mana within it slightly different than steel. Harn felt it resonate within him, as his core slammed faster for a brief moment. "Well, out back there was a smithy. Little thing, barely enough to shoe those exotic horses when they came into town, but the Smith had real skill. A craftin' Adept, he was."
"Those are pretty rare, I understand," Felix said.
"They are, but not as much to the east as out here. Most master craftsmen are Adepts at best. The true Masters run their guilds or live in seclusion." Harn grinned. "Why an Adept was out in my uncle's shack, I never knew. But I took every chance I could to watch him work. Eventually he put me to work too. Spent a lotta time at the bellows. Workin' with pig iron. Sweeping and haulin'. Gave me a fighter's body, well before I earned my Brawler's Physique."
"You're a Smith?" Felix asked, a little surprised.
"Nah, nothin' so fancy, though I once thought maybe..." Harn shook his head. "Another life, that. But it stuck with me, you know? Even affected my core space, somethin' I call the Armory." He slapped the anvil. "My core looks like this, a big ol' anvil, shapin' Mana and Stamina and all that into fuel for my Skills."
"Each Skill a weapon, honed and Tempered by your core," Felix said.
"Er, yeah. Good guess," Harn said, a little confused. "Did I tell you this before?"
"Oh no, I was just making connections." Felix waved the issue away. "Sorry, that was rude, interrupting like that. Those sound like some good memories."
"Aye. They are." Harn looked around the Forge. "Comin' back extra strong in this place. Feels like it squeezes it outta me, you know?"
"I know exactly what you mean," Felix said. He walked around Harn and up to the anvil, resting one of his hands on it. Immediately the thing bloomed with light, releasing a tight cloud of purple and silver. A series of illusory circles formed from the cloud, each one showing a web of symbols that hovered above the anvil like smoke above a fire. Harn wasn't all that versed in sigaldry, but he knew his basics. The circles all showed primary glyphs surrounded by secondary and tertiary sigils, each smaller and more exacting than the last. All of them modified the function of the controlling glyph, giving it strength and flexibility at the expense of power efficiency. Harn grunted. It'd take a good chunk of Mana and Stamina to operate the Forge, it seemed.
Felix hummed to himself, before spinning a blue window into Harn's view. It rotated into place, and Harn whistled as he read it.
Forge Of The Stronghold!
At Rank I, The Following Array Is Available!
Tempering Array - Tier I - All materials placed upon this anvil can be Tempered, their structures enforced up to one (1) Tier above its current state. Only applicable once. A secondary attempt will have no effect.
Requires: Suitable Material/Item, Monster Core(s), Elementally Attuned Mana
"That's a damn sight better'n most forges, I'll tell you that," Harn said. "Most Smiths don't even use arrays. Too expensive, too complex. This is a noble's Forge." He shook his head and amended that statement. "A king's Forge."
"An Autarch's Forge," Karys corrected, his refined accent sounding offended.
"Aye. Sure." Harn shrugged. "Don't see much difference between a king and an autarch though."
"I'm no king," Felix protested, his attention still grabbed by the array before him. "Whatever an Autarch is, though, it's full of responsibilities. Duties that I don't really understand yet, but are already eating up all my time. I've got three Crafting Halls, you know." He laughed. "There's a part of me that wants to run them all, becoming a master Smith, Inscriptionist, and Alchemist...but time is against me. Against all of us. I told you about the Enclosure, but apparently that message we all saw? Declaring me Autarch? Everyone saw that."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone on the Continent, according to Karys."
Harn's gut dropped. "That's...that ain't good, no matter how you shake it out. They'll be coming for you."
"I'm aware," Felix said wryly. He tapped his sword. "Karys and I have been discussing our approach, and first up is making this place defensible. I earned a Stronghold from my Quest, and I plan to fortify the hell out of this place for when folks come knocking."
"We need to send messengers out to Haarwatch. Cal's gotta be made aware, as she's in the path of whoever is comin' your way," Harn insisted.
"You're right. Shit." Felix ran his fingers through his dark black hair. It was getting entirely too long, though Harn knew some folk liked it that way. "I hadn't even thought of that. Maybe we can get some Henaari to make the trip. They're fast, but it's still a distance of weeks."
"Your Enclosure is strong as I hear it, so we've got some time. Let's have a meetin' with that Farwalker and consider our options tonight, yeah?" Harn gripped Felix by the shoulders. The kid felt like a rock and twice as heavy, but Harn squeezed. "We can make our way through this. Just gotta take it one step at a time."