Chapter 33: Last Preparations for War

I walked slowly through the streets as the sun slid across the tops of the buildings. A few people milled about—vendors calling, a cart creaking down cobbles—but the morning felt lazy, as if the city itself were still waking. Liora's sitting on my left arm; Eva kept pace at my right as we headed toward our next destination.

We paused before a shop. A carved sign hung above the door: BLADE AND EMBER.

"This place sells sturdy, well-made weapons. It's where I bought mine." Eva said, nodding at the sign.

She moved for the door and I followed a step behind. The air inside hit me with the scent of iron, black oil, and the faint, metallic sourness that lingered like old memories of blood. The walls were a gallery of blades: swords with tempered edges catching the light, axes with hafts oiled to a dark gloss, daggers nested in leather, shields rimmed in hammered steel. Several fine pieces were mounted high on the wall like trophies; a few lay on tables wrapped in cloth; a corner housed battered boxes of usable, cheaper weapons—practical things for soldiers or desperate hands.

Taking a quick sweep of the room, a different feeling gnawed at me—an unease I could not immediately name. 'Why do I feel on ….edge?'

As I tightened my stance, the thought clarified itself. 'Ah I get it. It's just too dangerous. A room filled with weapons. If a fight were to broke out I have to keep the whole room in check otherwise a attack could come from anywhere.'

We approached the front desk. A young man stood there in a white shirt, leather apron and gloves, hair still smelling of oil. He regarded us with the casual confidence of someone used to selling steel.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

Eva glanced at me. The meaning of her look landed moments later.

"I wish to buy a sturdy sword. A cheap one will suffice." I said.

The young man's face dimmed a fraction; he pointed toward the corner where the boxes waited. "You can look through those and choose whatever you like."

We moved to the boxes. The blades inside were utilitarian—nicks along edges, hastily oiled—but serviceable. 'Pretty normal. Sebas check if there's anything interesting in the room.' I thought as my eyes ran over the hilts.

I picked up a solid, unadorned sword from the corner: iron hilt cool under my palm, balance honest, the tang solid. Eva looked at me, some confusion on her face, but she said nothing. We went back to the counter and I set the blade down.

"That will be five silver coins." the young man said politely.

"I would like an axe; a very sturdy spear—price is of no consequence; a rapier; a polearm, something shaped like a long chain with a scythe-blade; a long sword; and a greatsword." I said evenly.

The request hit the shop like a thrown stone. The young man went slack, and Eva's eyebrows climbed. Both of them stared as if I had named half the kingdom's armory.

The young man finally found his voice. "Uh… yes. Yes. Please—give me a moment to fetch them." He hurried through the door at the rear of the shop.

Eva still looked at me, astonished. "You can use all those weapons?" she asked.

"Kind of." I replied calmly.

"What do you mean by that?" she pressed.

"I will explain once we leave the city. It will be easier to demonstrate than to describe."

She sighed, resigned. "Fine."

Metal clanked in the back—sudden, bright sounds of chains and leather. Voices rose and fell; one was sharp and young, the other a low rumble. The younger voice sounded like the man at the counter; the older voice was hoarse with authority, laced with impatience.

Footsteps approached. The rear door opened and the young man returned, followed by an older smith—broad-shouldered and weathered, skin browned and creased by flame, a dark beard shot with grey. He carried himself like someone who had hammered other men into shape as much as he had hammered steel. A leather apron hung heavy over a bare chest; calluses and faint scars marked his hands.

He came up to the counter, leaned over, and fixed me with a close, searching stare. He slapped both palms on the wood, wood thudding, voice thick and probing. "Are you the one wanting to buy all these weapons?"

I held his gaze without flinching.

A hand slammed down between us—Eva stepping into the space with the same ferocity as the smith. "Is there a problem?" she demanded, eyes locked on his.

The older man straightened, a snarl of curiosity under his anger. "Forget about paying—can you even use all that?" His voice slowed, roughening. "I make weapons for warriors, not for fools."

I felt the old man's scrutiny like a pressure. I did not want to show him the scope of my skill. I needed an excuse. 'I don't want to show him how to use them all. I need some other excuse...... How about I'm buying this for someone else?....... Oh wait! I just got another idea. Sebas, I remember seeing something like rune in my trait description does than mean rune or enchantment with rune adding to weapon is doable in this world?'

[ Yes, Master. Rune enchantment is a job in this world. It is not uncommon. ]

"I'm going to use them for rune enchantment. I need different weapons to see which ones work best, so I'm getting one of each." I said, measured and precise.

The older man's eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat the two of us simply held one another—iron and years against something else—until the corner of his mouth twitched and he let out a short bark of laughter that smelled of smoke.

"Is that so, young man?" the old smith barked, laughing under his breath. "You tinker with rune enchantment, do you? Admirable—experimenting is how geniuses are born. But heed me: rune work costs coin and patience. You ought to begin with something modest and work upward."

I slid my hand behind my back, produced the pouch of coin from my inventory, and set it on the counter. Two or three gold pieces spilled out and clinked onto the wood.

The old man fell silent, eyeing the coins with a practiced, slow appraisal, then exhaled. "Just advice, young lad. Do as you please."

"I mean no disrespect," I said with measured clarity. "I require sturdy weapons to endure multiple and higher-grade runes."

The smith's mouth curved into a small, rueful smirk. "Very well. I will supply what I have. There are, however, certain things I cannot provide."

I gave a confused look. Eva asked before I could: "Why?"

"The rapier—those are forged in the capital. Few outside the royal order use them. And that chained contraption you mentioned? I've never seen such a weapon." He spat the last word like a pebble.

"I shall take what you have." I inclined my head. "And If there is any broken sword with a substantial hilt, I will accept it."

The old man nodded, and went to the back. The sound of metal being drawn, wrapped and hefted came from the back: the scrape of scabbards, the thump of heavy blades being set and strapped, the dull thunk of a greatsword hitting the floor as it was tested for balance. When the smith returned, he carried a selection like a small armory.

After a short interval set the gathered spoils on the counter. "That will be seven gold coins."

He laid the weapons out one by one. A spear—its shaft ink-black, the blade a cold, metallic shard that drank the light; a double-faced axe whose silver haft gleamed with a faint, ice-veined pattern that ran from the eye to the edge; a broad blade, polished to a mirror sheen, but marred by a black wave running from hilt to half the blade as if frozen smoke had been forged into the steel; and, last, a greatsword—massive, blunt and patient, the kind of blade that swallowed momentum and returned it twice over.

'They all look great.' I thought, a small excitement tightening my chest.

I paid, and the smith reached beneath the counter. He produced a broken sword with only hilt—black leather wrapped tight around the grip, a pommel streaked with a red, flame-like enamel, and a guard shaped like a pair of wings, crimson edged with gold.

[ It's a great quality sword that is now destroyed Master. No special abilities or attribute. ]

'That's fine. It looks cool and that's all I need.' I thought as plans threaded through my mind.

With the purchases bundled and the smith's curt instructions about rune tempering—"If a blade is untrue, the rune will eat it alive"—we left the shop. The smell of oil and hot metal stayed with us a few paces down the street, a lingering heat in the cool morning air.

"Do you know how long it will take us to reach the border?" I asked Eva, precise and formal in tone.

"It's two weeks via the main route. We must leave Kingdom Altherion, cross into Eryndral, and pass through." she replied.

'Maybe I should do a small adventurer guild quest before leaving.' I considered, then set it aside.

"There is a shorter route." Eva said. "Through the mountains. We could reach the border in a week."

'Hmm? That might just work. But…' I searched my thoughts for the missing piece.

"But the mountain is dangerous. Food and night watches will be a problem." Eva added, her voice tightening.

'And there it is.' I anticipated the objection.

"We will take the mountain route." I declared.

"Are you listening? The monsters there are vicious. I cannot use my full power." Eva's worry was plain on her face.

"It will be sufficient." I replied calmly, my voice even. "I have provisions in stock. I will not place my daughter in needless peril."

She gave a low, reluctant "Fine."

We left for the mountain.

The city exhaled around us. I carried Liora at my side, her small hand curled through my fingers; Eva walked beside us, vigilant. Market stalls blurred past—smoke from braziers, skewers of meat crackling, the sugary tang of roasted fruit. A pair of knights hauled a gaunt, malnourished man by the arms; his ribs showed through torn cloth, a bruise darkening along his jaw where a boot had landed. One sleeve hung shredded; a smear of old, congealed blood stained the hem of his tunic. The sight made the vendors look away.

At the gate, soldiers yawned and stretched, their halberds yawning on their shoulders. The sun caught on mail and the dull brass of helmets; dust rose in the wake of soldiered footsteps and hung, glittering, in the shafts of light.

We moved past them and began the walk toward the mountain. The road narrowed, cobbles giving way to harder tracks. The city's noise thinned until it was nothing more than a far-off heartbeat. Eva had been silent since our conversation, up until we reached the foot of the mountain.

to be continued….

Author's Note:

Sorry this chapter is late — I’ve been struggling to focus lately, so updates will be like this for a while. Thank you for sticking with the story and for taking the time to read Chapter 33. Your patience, comments, and support mean more than I can say; they keep me writing on the days it’s hard. I’ll return with the next piece as soon as I’m able.