Warnings With Goodbyes

Ino’s letter:

Sorin… If what you are saying is true, then you're dealing with someone I knew in the past during my time in the east. That fully covering armour is a classic Umbra squadron mark. Just imagine an elite force made from the strongest in the east. I would call them more like lone warriors, but the team idea is to make a strong image.

They all have different armour; this one is ranked number six. He actually tried recruiting me, and we were coworkers before I decided to begin my revolutionary goals… not terrorism, don't comment. You should win; otherwise I will have to take my bloodline to him… make sure to put everything I thought you. Let the chief and his team handle the nobodies.

One thing you should know is that the armour he has blocks magic. Even though I can't sense it, we're not beastfolk or elves after all. You won't be able to use fire or water that entire fight unless you are willing to try to melt his armour for hours! You need physical attacks that will actually do physical damage. It's a smart way to make Western images plummet! Considering you losers only have barrier magic.

Try not to miss your favourite and most charming Ino.

…

Sorin kept looking at the message, conflicted.

Only earth and wind magic.

He looked over at the window; his entire setup was moved away in a way that allowed not even a single graze of his skin to be hit from unknown locations. Even if this gave away the idea he knew he was being watched. It would leave only one option: to confront; that was in his mind, however. He had no doubt that he would just be tracked and shot through the wall if needed.

Barrier magic: Ino was also right about that. I haven't learned anything but a barrier to stop the weapons they have from the east… That means they have some magic weaponry that was used during the attack, not a projectile. Could it be that they discovered a way to make ordinary people have magic weapons?

Seals. That answer rang deeply within Sorin.

The chief is surely aware of this as a weapon designer. And now it makes perfect sense why they bypassed every barrier so easily. We have projectile barriers, meaning that the weapons they used must have been pure magic.

He gritted his teeth sharply. The idea of magic being used against mages. In their own territory. And not only that, but it was used to frame Sorin. His anger boiled higher.

Furthermore, since the chief was here for a decade, it means they had this weapon hidden away from us. How many people truly died behind the scenes from this? It's impossible to predict. What do I even expect in war, however? Everything is unfair. I have to deal with it; however, I want to protect Claya and Vanir. He said he would be working. I will check. Considering he's connected with me.

Sorin got up from the desk where he was reading Ino’s letter and complimenting. He walked over, staying away from the window, towards his staff against the door. He wrapped it around in cloth like before to avoid suspicion, even if everyone knew. It seemed better in his eyes. He walked out of his room down the stairs of the inn, until leaving onto the main street.

It's quite busy.

There were people everywhere moving objects to the carriages, some just posted up in the streets watching the movement go. The smell of dust lingered everywhere, and people shouting across alleyway to alleyway took over his senses instantly.

I wouldn't be surprised if the chief is making his move; I should be safe to move.

He walked towards the cross section of the village, towards the smithery. Vanir lived right beside it; it was his personal request despite a family next door. They were kicked out; the chief promised him that house to ensure he wouldn't leave. Smiths are very rare to come by outside the east. Even the west has a handful for the entire massive city ten times the size of Farmouth.

He saw Vanir slamming down on a metallic axe. The blade was perfectly even, reflecting the sunlight; the ash was also heavy before Sorin took out his staff and cast a wind spell to blow it all away.

“Thanks, Hero.” Vanir looked back at Sorin; it was clearly just wordplay, which made Sorin’s heart ease a bit.

Walking over to the fire, he cast his fire spell into the furnace, heating Vanir’s axe even more. “I wanted to check on you, since you're my boss and all. I'm here to tell you that I won't be working tomorrow."

“I know. The chief told me.” He kept hitting the hammer.

Sorin sighed out. “So why are you still working? Just get ready to move out; I won't be able to protect you or the others. And I prefer seeing you alive.”

“I'm going to fight; why else do you think I'm hitting metal on this day?” He gritted his teeth as a heavy swing downwards echoed a metallic hit.

“I thought you just had a thing for metal; I wouldn't be surprised if you kissed your axe after it's done…”

“I'm not moving anywhere; I'm making axes; they will be the sharpest. I promise that; I want everyone to have an axe for tomorrow.”

Sorin smirked a bit. “You're doing charity now? Business will be rough.”

“The chief paid in advance; that man has more money than I ever dreamed of. He gave a full two gold coins.” he smiled; it was the first smile Sorin saw.

“That's forty times my weekly salary of two silver coins…”

“Exactly right it is! That's why I have been at this since morning.” He poured water onto the melded axe, causing it to pump out steam in all directions and heat the area where they were talking

Sorin coughed before talking, "I'm willing to do some charity if you want; the least I could do for doing extra trouble.”

“Then keep that fire up.”

Hours passed; the silence continued for the entire time, the same way it did on every workday before this. As Vanir was cleaning up the entire smithery, a group of villagers came by with a carriage, grabbing all of the axes before heading off. “We made it in time.”

Sorin's head gets hit with a metallic coin. “What the?”

“Keep it.” Vanir walked off from the smithery as Sorin stared down at a single golden coin. “It would have been impossible to get it done without you, kid, but a hero always arrives when the weak need help/ It was just destiny that you came looking for me,” He laughed off.

“Boss, you're really impossible, you know that right?” Sorin shouted across as he kept walking away, but he got no reply as he rounded the corner.

He's really something else. I will miss you, boss.

Sorin raised his voice into a shout, “I will be back one day! I will owe you a drink.” He then also went into his inn to finally rest.

Slumping onto his bed, Sorin stared at his ceiling. The staff was always ready, it was tiring to think about all this right now when he was under so much pressure. His eyes drifted slowly into slumber within a couple of minutes of returning home; he was satisfied with how the day went.