3 - Infatuation

     Renfeld had changed.

     Landon Marcross had lived in Renfeld his entire life. The town had always been a sleepy one. His parents had immigrated from Oro down to this quaint corner of Seras shortly after the Fey Folk had been revealed to the greater world. Here, no one cared that he or his family were unimus at first. Until more and more elves and cait sith started moving in as well. The decree had come from the newly crowned High King, compelled to build bridges not only between the previously balkanized human nations, but between fellow children of the Divinity.

     Of course, good will and an outstretched hand is all well and good, but not many humans took very kindly to the idea of playing nice with not only each other, but ceding some of their own lands away to strangers who had destroyed their own home through centuries of warfare.

     It didn’t come as a surprise some of the more reticent people, like Montross and the Sanguine Crypts, started targeting Fey Folk. A good majority of Elves and Sith were still transplants trying to find a place in Oros, uncertain of the future. In some way, Landon empathized with them. The Unimus had hidden themselves away among humanity, and had only reluctantly revealed themselves with the dawn of the Third Age with the Fey Folk. Humans were a confusing contradiction of traits, but the actions of a few were not a condemnation for the whole. Or at least, that’s what Landon’s father had instilled in him, growing up.

     The reality was that Landon had also faced a certain stigma from humans. His family had taken up blacksmithing after settling down in Renfeld, and most of the other humans only interacted with him when it came to business. He didn’t have human friends, or at the very least, any humans he could consider friends. It was a lonely life, but not an unfulfilling one. When the Crypts had invaded, Orin, a frequent customer with a penchant for breaking tools, had been the one to warn him.

     Fact of the matter was that Orin had no obligation to inform him of the plight. And yet, the human did, worried for his safety. Perhaps his earlier belief about a lack of friends should be reconsidered in light of Orin’s selflessness.

     Ever since the Crypt’s attack, and Vaylin’s arrival, the normally quiet town had been bustling with activity.

     In fact, the Cait Sith who was representing her parents tanning business in a collaborative venture between their respective skills seemed unable to focus on anything except the town’s savior.

     “You should have seen it, Landon!” Her arms went wide as she made noises and smashed her hands together in various ways. “Single handedly saved us all.”

     He chuckled in spite of himself. It was obvious Rena was quite smitten with the Savior of Renfeld, so he didn’t begrudge her this break from their usual interactions. “I’m surprised you’re acting so excited,” he replied. “I’d have been terrified if I was in your boots.” Inspecting his tools, Landon found his favorite hammer, then frowned. Where had the ore gone?

     Rena spotted it before he did. Quick as a whip, the little Sith snatched it from the bag on the counter and handed it over to him. “Oh, I was,” she said earnestly. “But then she changed back to her mundane form and fought the big bad all on her own.”

     “Hold on, hold on.” Landon primed the forge, allowing fire to crisp to life as his visitor fidgeted uncomfortably. Once he was satisfied the fire wouldn’t degrade, he returned his attention towards her. “So she fought Montross after turning into that thing you can do?”

     The look of offense on her face was perhaps the best and worst thing Rena had done today. “No!” She exclaimed, swiping her hands in front of each other. “Vaylin transformed into her true form, which scared most of the bandits into submission. Then she changed back to fight Montross.”

     Something about what she said sounded off to Landon. “Alright, she fought the leader of the Sanguine Crypts after transforming back?”

     Rena’s head bobbed with the most enthusiasm yet.

     “So she was displaying everything as she was taking care of the guy?”

     Strike that, the blush that came to Rena’s face as she realized what Landon meant was the best thing he had seen all day. Maybe in the entire month. Her lip curled in embarrassment. “Oh, well, one of the bandits handed Vaylin his tunic, so she was wearing that.”

     “So she killed Montross, wearing nothing but the tunic a bandit was kind enough to give her,” Landon arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

     “Right.”

     “With no respect to due process? Just executed him?”

     “He wasn’t going to give us any of that, why should we?”

     “Probably because we need to show them a better way,” he answered. “We don’t want to be killed because of our differences, so how could we be any better if we’re doing it to them?”

     His question perplexed Rena, and she left soon after, pondering its implications. That suited Landon just fine. During their conversation, an idea came into his mind on what he could do to show his thanks to the Savior of Renfeld. Double checking the furnace was still primed, the blacksmith prised a different ore from under his table, and soon got to work.

     There were few pleasures he enjoyed more than working at his forge; it allowed him to empty his mind and focus on the work at hand. Vaylin seemed to be doing good as Asura, and indeed that may be her only intention, but good intentions only went so far when interfering in the affairs of others. The tensions between man and fey were the product of good intentions, after all.

     The hammering of the metal echoed in his head. He stored his hammer and began to separate the sheet of morphel, imbuing it with lightning and formatting. If Rena was any indication, Vaylin had acquired quite a large fan club. She could do a lot of good with that. Or inadvertently, a lot of harm. The threads of the five races, much like the threads he was now programming, needed to synergize with one another, not cut against each other.

     Once he was satisfied with the quality of his craft, Landon quenched his forge and took off towards the local inn. As thanks for saving the town, the innkeeper had let Vaylin and her two boyfriends stay with her for as long as they needed. And naturally, most everyone, locals and ex-bandits alike, were congregating around the premises just to catch a glimpse of her. He thought he caught a glimpse of Rena among the crowd as he began inching his way through the throng, but she made no attempt to reach out to him, seemingly enraptured in an argument with another citizen and a former bandit.

     To Landon’s displeasure, he found it impossible to reach the entrance directly, and was forced to scale the side, struggling to find purchase through a window. In the end, he managed to get in, and made his way downstairs where a striking blonde simian cait sith matching the descriptions Rena gave in mismatched clothing was speaking with the front desk.

     “As I said, I’m incredibly sorry for the interruption, but really, if you could just do something about the crowd outside, we’d really appreciate it,” the clerk at the desk pleaded.

     “I don’t really understand why they’re hanging around, but I can try,” Vaylin said. She noticed Landon with his box and regarded him with wary curiosity. “Can I help you?”

     “Uh, actually I was thinking I could help you,” Landon coughed, presenting the box. “I’m a blacksmith by trade. And I heard you had, well, a wardrobe malfunction while dealing with the leader of the Sanguine Crypts.”

     Vaylin’s eyes widened, and she accepted the box with a little bit of uncertainty. Her consternation increased as she opened the box, beholding the white and gold outfit. The fabric seemed to glow in her hands.

     “It’s a special armorweave,” Landon explained. “forged from morphel, the same material we use to shape our bodies.”

     “Oh, you’re an Unimus!”

     “Exactly. This should refit itself to your measurements whenever you transform. That’s what Cait Sith are known for, right? Transforming?”

     Landon didn’t consider himself a prude. As an Unimus, he didn’t even have genitals to need to cover – of course he could have them installed, but why would he even do that? Despite this, it still came as a surprise when Vaylin just tossed aside the clothing she was wearing then and there to don his gift to her right there in the foyer. Both he and the receptionist blushed, choosing to focus on anywhere else in the room.

     “You sure this won’t rip?” Vaylin asked as she inspected her figure. Landon took it as permission to look. “It does feel very form fitting.”

     “As I said, Morphel is a special ore that we use to forge our bodies,” Landon replied. “It’s incredibly malleable. Considering the Cait Sith’s biological ability to shift between their mundane and animalistic, this should address any, well.” He gestured to the obviously discarded clothing she had borrowed.

     “Neat. Sounds complicated, but neat.”

     “Is there anything you might need adjusted?”

     Vaylin put a finger to her chin. “Hmm, only things I feel it needs are cosmetic, and I can handle those.”

     “Just one last thing, then. I suppose you could consider this my fee. Would you be willing to answer a question I have?”

     “Huh? Oh, sure.”

     “What are your plans with the remaining bandits? Will they also be executed as Montross was, or incarcerated according to the laws of the land?”

     The question caught Vaylin off guard. She glanced towards the front door, where sounds of chanting could be now heard outside.

     “That’s a good question, I didn’t think that far ahead.”

     “That’s what I was worried about.”