It was time to go.
Irielhos had been good to him. The Elves had been good to him. But he had to leave the nest and get out into the world for a while. He would rather it have been to enjoy the marvels of a foreign world as a tourist or visiting scholar of sorts. Instead, he was going to be doing it as a predator with a very particular prey that liked to disguise itself as people.
But people didn't use horrors like the Bane. They didn't attack a group of people trying their best to be left the hell alone or send assassins aiming for children.
Ulric was saddened to find out that humanity seemed to have some of its flaws baked into the hardware, so to speak. All it took was a few madmen. Just a couple of these monsters, wearing Human skin, in the right place, at the right time, with a motive and the power to execute it.
Grim thoughts accompanied Ulric through his morning exercises, the usual peace they offered denied him this day. A reformed Taipan went through her own routines for facing the day. In mostly silence, they packed their gear into travel packs, a little on the heavy side to provide protection from the Winter's fading grasp. It was starting to warm up out there, but the air still had a considerable bite to it, especially when clothes grew wet from the ever-present snow.
Modern textiles were non-existent, of course. No specialty waxes or hydrophobic treatments to create bomb-proof cold weather gear. It turned out that the Iriel'en knew of an astounding number of different animal hides that offered ridiculous protection from the inclement weather, however. They were frequently as heavy as they were resistant to the elements. There were exceptions.
Notably, the cloak Ulric wore made of [Forest Lord] hide was one. It weighed about what a nice leather duster would have in his old life but shed water and the fur, turned inwards, held his body's heat incredibly well.
Taipan had her own bit of Elven Winter tech, a thick overcoat that was made up of two animal hides sewn together. The outer layer was some kind of giant river otter the size of a walrus, totally waterproof, while the inner layer came from something similar to those jumped-up wolverines, [Polar Weasels], that was heavily insulating. Tents? Check. Snowshoes? Check. Weapons? Uh oh.
Ulric realized that he had never spoken with Smith Uldin since their disastrous first meeting.
A meeting that had been engineered by his lovely Shadow to be as uncomfortable as possible, with the Smith playing along as a fine example of Iriel'en humor. They just loved to dick with people, the longer they could keep the ruse going the better. Taipan had rolled on her Uncle one night when Ulric had jokingly threatened to break up with her for an "Elf with proper shoulders and who could provide for his household's needs". She hadn't done so because she thought he was serious, merely to fulfill her promise to "put in a good word" for her Uncle who enjoyed the company of a man of Ulric's general shape and disposition. When Ulric confirmed that he had no such interest, but thank you for the compliment, she relaxed.
It was no exaggeration to say that her Uncle Uldin was considered quite the catch. If he hadn't kept himself cooped up, buried in his projects and obsessions, he'd have been a big hit on the dating scene. Ulric could sympathize. He wished the Smithing savant well in his romantic pursuits but, unfortunately, Ulric found nothing appealing about the male form. That stance got slightly confused when he saw Bald'rt Iriel who was a dead ringer for his knockout daughter, but with a decidedly masculine bent. It still creeped him out a little, although he was getting over it.
In any case, Uldin's personal life was not the problem. The problem was that he still had Ulric's armor and had promised Ulric a sword, made using the captured weapons of a Beastkin and Human in the party that had taken Brighteyes. Weapons whose metals were of a rarity and quality that was at odds with the half-bandit scum bags from whose corpses he'd taken them. Given his lack of re-mastery of his full arsenal of elemental magics, he was going to need those more brute-force solutions to problems.
Glancing up from his travel kit and at his notably better-armed traveling companion, Ulric decided to mention the obvious.
"I'm gonna need to fetch my armor back from Master Smith Galen Uldin before we go."
Taipan frowned a touch. She knew better than anyone the finicky nature of her effective 'godfather'. He was a perfectionist by nature. When he finished a project that meant that it was of a quality and craftsmanship unparalleled by Iriel'en Smiths. The problem was that any perceived defect or imperfection relegated the item to the demanding Elf's refuse bin. Weapons that would be considered masterpieces elsewhere the Elf had tossed into a hodgepodge barrel to be used to bang around and test different ideas for more worthwhile projects.
It had been over two months since the Master Smith had taken on this project for Ulric, bribed by being able to study Ulric's replica Roman armor. First, the Lorica, a set of overlapping plates of [Forest Lord] bone, fastened to a leather jerkin from the same creature. Over this could be worn a set of large pauldrons of the same. An armored skirt, simple vambrace, and greaves completed the set. He'd never figured out how to shape a helmet. Nor had he properly been able to do boots. He wasn't going to lie about it, the Elven cobblers had been a gods send, he was not a fan of his rough bush boots.
In any case, the techniques and concepts of a foreign civilization had been an inspiration for the touchy Smith and he'd accepted Ulric's order on that account. That and to help keep his "Little Girl", as he referred to Taipan, from having Ulric drag her down at a critical moment. The question now was, would there be a weapon? Or, had Uldin gotten sidetracked, bogged down by his compulsive nature?
They left today, with or without the weapon, so he had to hope. Off to see Uldin!
Ulric took some comfort knowing that the two of them had been deliberately fucking with him. Otherwise, he would be forced to admit that he had the conversational skills of a squirrel, a deep suspicion born of insecurity and neuroticism in his former life that he'd thought himself past. As they passed through Irielhos the small shops, stacks of materials, and carts being hauled on rickshaws, everything fairly well vibrated with activity. Elves bustled past, too busy to stop but he met eyes with a good few of them and many fleeting greetings were thrown his way.
The former Smithing Guild was a sad reminder of the loss of life during the mage assault. The debris was gone and the charred sections of foundation had healed, courtesy of the living [Heartwood] of which nearly every building in the city was constructed. Scaffolds were raised and Elves with the agility of spiders were climbing them to reassemble the superstructure. An enterprising team of three was roofing with some kind of slate shingle, one of the few nonwooden materials used. Made sense for a smithy place to want some improved fireproofing.
Especially after the attackers had clearly intended to use fire to burn the fortress to the ground. The only reason they hadn't been successful was the insane durability and innate resistance of [Heartwood] to fire. There was a heavy Terra component to the mana signature of Irielhos, the great tree from which the fortress was made that lent the Tree Guardian and possible pseudo-diety, resistance to flame beyond what anybody not Iriel'en would suspect.
The odd couple of Human and former Elf royalty moved along through the hustling sights of the city to find a somewhat out-of-the-way corner overlooking the forests below. A sprawling ranch-style home with an attached smithy that belched smoke from an internal forge fire. Uldin was working, as usual. Smith Galed Uldin was something of a hermit, who buried himself in his work and study of the materials and techniques of his craft, an Elf after Ulric's own heart.
Ulric deeply regretted not being able to spend more time picking the Smith's brain. The attack had put a great many things to waste, his chance to learn Vardan metallurgy, not the least. Not near the top of the list, mind, too many lives had been lost or devastated for that to be true, but Ulric could have probably helped Uldin figure out some neat tricks if they'd gotten to sit down and trade pointers. The metals of this world were beyond anything he'd ever seen with their bizarre combination of traditional alloying and physical grain structures and synergistic mana fields that amplified properties or conferred entirely new ones.
Sighing at the loss of such a magnificent opportunity to pick up a part of his former life that he'd loved he knocked on the thick wooden door, noting reinforcements to the hinges and latch. A metal frame as well.
Ulric smiled, recalling kicking in this door when Uldin had made him wait an hour outside, part of Taipan's ploy to fuck with him. She knew he hated being made to wait without reason.
He gave it a moment. Odds were, the Smith was working in his smithy, a place resistant to sound by necessity, thick stone walls were a good idea when you were dealing with forge fires, metal sparks, and white-hot bars of stock being shaped with tong and hammer. Ulric knocked again. Add to the soundproofing of the stone-walled smithy that, if Uldin was working, that the roar of the forge fire, and ringing of metal would be quite loud.
They waited another five minutes.
Ulric was beginning to chafe. Wonder how sturdy that frame is? He questioned himself, not rhetorically at all.
Taipan glanced at him and pushed a nondescript decorative carving in the wall. A carving that had blended into the background of the rest of the reliefs. Now that her finger was on it, Ulric saw that this broke the natural motif, this carving was of a large timber framed bell, like one that might be found in the old antique churches of his pre-collapse world.
Ulric heard a loud clang from the smithy, the sound carrying as if a bronze bell was struck solidly.
Taipan studiously ignored his pointed glare as they heard shuffling through the door and a series of locks being manipulated with heavy clicks.
"You never asked." She commented as the door swung in.
Ulric was prevented from suggesting several feats of inhuman flexibility by the rush of a huge body that nearly knocked him from his feet and the refreshing squawk of his Shadow being buried by the form of the largest godsdamned Elf Ulric had ever seen.
Well over two meters tall, at least six centimeters over even Ulric's head, and he was quite tall compared to the Iriel'en, the Smith lifted Taipan easily. The deeply tanned arms, corded with muscle crushed her easily against a massive barreled chest and shoulders layered in ropes of mass that was imbued with strength greater than the iron he worked, tightened around her, choking off her protests with a strangled "Ghak!" that was deeply satisfying to Ulric.
"Liiiittle Giiirrrl!" Cried the disturbingly high melodic voice of Taipan's "Uncle Uldin".
Burying his face in her side, Taipan was subjected to an intense nuzzling of the burly Elf's face into the material of her coat over her stomach.
Muffled but still beautifully melodic, the Master Smith scolded, "You did not even visit me! All it takes for you to forget about your Uncle Uldin is a new toy, I knew I should have visited him first, before you set your claws in him. Now I do not get to see either of you!"
Welp, Ulric was now reminded why he'd run away the first time.
Taipan adopted the detached dignity of a cat ignoring its owner's overzealous attentions to manufacture a reality in which it was not being manhandled. Eventually, Galed Uldin had his fill of snuggling his "heart sworn daughter", near enough to the godparent practice of some of the more old-fashioned cultures of his prior world, and set her down. He didn't release her though, instead holding her to his side and smiling at the top of her head as if she were a child of six and he her mature uncle, rather than she a well over hundred-year-old huntress of eminent skill at murder, and he a half millennium old master of arcane metallurgy.
Everybody should have someone in their life that loves them the way Taipan was loved by Galed Uldin.
"Uncle, we do not have time for this!" Complained Taipan, unable to escape her Uncles clutches, "My Honor and I depart today, at the request of Lord Lumyt'seit, to take vengeance on our enemies!"
"And the wind blows through the leaves!" Dismissed her Uncle easily.
"I have seen no fewer than three wars with Otherkin, and this one will end similarly. Even if not, if I am not to be allowed to spoil my Little Girl then I do not care to see that future." The Smith announced proudly.
A few passersby on their way to complete some grim task of war paused long enough to grin at Taipan. One of them shouted "You must collar your pets Uldin, else someone else will take them in!" drawing a gesture Ulric had been led to believe was incredibly offensive from his Shadow towards the departing back, still shaking with its laughter.
"Come inside, the both of you! I will make tea. It is good to see you again Glade Chief, glad I am that you survived your wounds. I heard there was some doubt on that account in the first days." Uldin said, chivvying the both of them easily into the cozy chaos of the inside of his home.
Ulric allowed himself to be moved, having accepted that there wasn't much he could do about it that didn't involve knives, and took in the scenery.
It was, largely, the same, in the way that a room can be so messy that, just because nothing is where it was, it still appears unchanged. The average position of the objects strewn about was all that mattered. Bars of metal, scraps of leather, scales, various types of twine, jars of colored dyes or enamel, or something that gave off an acrid odor were scattered around. One of Ulric's cores was fastened by braided wire to a gnarled staff of some type of wood with which Ulric wasn't familiar. The core, a [Bladefern Elk] by the looks of it, pulsed threateningly.
Of Ulric's armor, there was no sign.
Taking a bite of patience, he summoned a significant portion of will to endure whatever nonsense Smith Uldin was going to throw his way. And he kept his face studiously blank to avoid tipping off Taipan.
A teapot came to a boil in the fireplace, scattered parchments too close to the coals to be anything but a massive fire hazard.
"How many times have you burned this place to the ground?" Ulric had asked the question out loud accidentally.
"Six." Answered Uldin without hesitation, "It is easier than cleaning. Whatever doesn't survive the fire doesn't deserve to have my attention anyway." Declared the Elf with exactly zero uncertainty.
It occurred to him that Taipan's Uncle might not be entirely stable.
"Ah. I see." Ulric lied gently. He did not see, but it wasn't his place to judge how another man chooses to live his life.
"Thank you for your concern about my health, Smith Uldin." Ulric said, plowing forward, "It was a rough patch but I came out alright. Better than many, better than I probably had any right to. I owe a great deal to the Medicos and his assistant, Yes'ir and Grendha. They did as well as I imagine could be possible under the circumstances and I am most grateful to them. You and your shop were unharmed yes?"
Uldin nodded briefly, pouring a battery acid strong tea into wooden cups to serve as he did.
"That is so. I was located too far away from the guild hall to be included in the attack. Doubtless, the attackers thought I would be located there, the fools. Many of my brethren were not so fortunate. It has been a challenge to take up so much of their work, to keep things on track. I spend more time outside my own smithy than in it, as of late." Uldin said with heavy regret, both for the losses and for the necessity of his being pulled into a more, involved, position than he'd had in decades.
"I retired from the guild long ago, to follow my interests. The attack changed that, of course. All hands are needed and I cannot indulge my whimsy while I can help my people. Speaking of which, rumor has reached my ear that you were instrumental in finding a way to save my dear friend Bald'rt from Bane poisoning. If you had found me earlier, I would have kissed you soundly, whatever your preferences. Alas, it seems my Little Girl has claimed you and I would not be so tactless as to poach. Especially not when she so rarely finds a lover to hold her interest." recounted the Smith.
He had a funny way of mixing the awful and the embarrassing, as if the contrasts served to balance one another in his mind, did Uldin. It was an idiosyncrasy that probably served him well in his craft.
It was like verbal whiplash to Ulric. From the bitter to the sweet without transition, he was thoroughly unbalanced.
"Th-Thanks, I mean, I'm glad I could help." He stammered. "Wait. Exactly how many people know about me and Taipan?" He asked, mildly flummoxed that his personal affairs might be a topic of discussion.
"The entire fortress knows and a collective sigh of relief has gone through its peoples. If my Little Girl did not find an outlet soon, we were afeared there would be blood in the streets every time someone spoke to her." Joked Uldin.
Taipan's unamused sniff indicated that she did not agree with the assessment.
"That is enough exaggeration from you Uncle. I have had lovers whenever I wanted them and I saw none interesting enough to keep me from the wilds." Argued his Shadow vigorously.
"Oh? When was your last? Was it that sketchy Aktinian captain, the one with the shoulders and the [Razor fin] teeth marks down his leg?" Prodded Uldin nonchalantly.
Now Ulric was curious. He hadn't asked Taipan about her romantic past, mostly because it was just that, and he wasn't the type to demand a laundry list from his interests. Seemed sort of…narcissistic.
Taipan was frowning. Ulric had to know now. If she was this expressive about it then it must be a juicy tidbit of gossip; potentially, it might be something he could use to tag her with when they were trading insults or setting traps for one another. That hadn't stopped since Taipan had decided against being a hateful dickhead towards him, it had just reverted to the normal Elven social lubricant of teasing one another. According to Brighteyes, it was a particularly Iriel'en custom. They were relentless about it and no one was safe, except for the Duties of the fortress towards whom none would direct any form of insult. Many of the other Elven tribes considered them obnoxiously difficult to be around.
Refocusing in his Shadow, Ulric waited for her to rise to her Uncle's challenge.
She hesitated, glancing at Ulric briefly before taking the bait. The woman was almost biologically incapable of refusing a barb.
"There was nothing wrong with Olith'rn, Uncle. You just didn't like him because he said your Smithy smelled like rotting eggs." She replied, as if forced.
"I seem to recall that, when you stopped seeing him, you called him a 'Web-footed Slackwit, who could not take a joke'." Uldin jabbed, catching her off guard.
"That! I may have said something unkind in passing…any way that was eight years ago why would you bring up such a thing now?!" She cried.
"Because if I can show your Honor how vicious you can be I might have the chance to win him over. It is not poaching if he runs away on his own, yes? I have my work cut out for me though, you were so busy bedding him that you could not find time to visit me once in an entire season." Declared the Smith shamelessly.
Ulric held in a laugh. This was going about as well as last time, only he wasn't the object of the peculiar Elf's humor. It was becoming clear now, how Uldin and Bald'rt had become friends. Talking to them was like juggling cobras.
Taipan's ears were beginning to turn red as the words of her Uncle, once so gentle and considerate, rolled over her.
"Anyway," Ulric interjected trying to put the brakes on this train before it derailed. He should have known better, all he'd done was earn himself the burly Elf's attention.
"Not that I blame you for this, Glade Chief." Uldin said, as if afraid to have implicated Ulric in this indiscretion. Which was a little off-putting, as if he'd had no say at all in any of it.
But Taipan's "Uncle" wasn't done yet.
"My Little Girl always has had a fascination for a tall, broad-shouldered man. I knew she would not be able to help herself, even if she tried to pretend otherwise. Though she was, *cough* overly harsh in her subterfuge. I apologize, Ulric, I could have warned you about this, had you not been forced to go elsewhere in such a hurry last time. Her Mother was the same way, she would look sideways at a lover for a year before she got around to tackling them. It is good that you have put a glow in her cheeks, otherwise, she would make your life-"
Master Smith Galed Uldin was interrupted by a half-empty cup flying towards his head at high speed.
He dodged artfully, slight lean that might have been by accident except he had kept a carefully studying eye on his adoptive daughter, judging her increasing unease with a tiger's awareness of a lame leg.
"Little girl! What is wrong, did you trip?" Uldin inquired innocently.
"Glade Chief, I am going to stand watch outside. Please, take whatever time you need to put your affairs to order." Announced Taipan with a studiously wooden tone.
She rose, stiffly, and strode from the room without another word. The twitching of her ear tips as she did spoke volumes as to her pulsing rage.
When the door closed behind her, violently, sending a reverberating crash through the room, Ulric turned to the muscled Elf.
They took each other in for a moment, measuring one another carefully. Ulric offered a fist to the air. Uldin raised his own larger mitt to lightly tap their knuckles together.
"It was beautiful, Uldin. A masterwork. I don't think I've ever seen her that angry, and I literally got her to try to kill me. You are rival to Bald'rt at fucking with people." Ulric told the Smith quietly.
The artisan sat back with a satisfied grin and finished his tea.
"Truly, it was my pleasure, Ulric. Just so you know, she hates being compared to her mother, even though the two of them are [Carza Nuts] sharing the same husk. Also, no doubt you already know this but she can be strangely shy at times, it is a vulnerability you should exploit when you wish to imbalance her. These tips I give as compensation for our previous meeting.” Advised Taipan’s wily Uncle.
“I would have apologized to you, had there been an opportunity, in these months. My Little Girl came to me with such a heartfelt desire to "play a little game" with her keeper. I did not know many of the details of how such a thing came to be, not until later. And besides, it was a very fun distraction. Just the thing to shake off the boredom I was feeling. It does you credit that you would look past it to set a trap of your own, using the same blade with which you were cut without her detecting it." The Smith praised.
Ulric had conjured this up over a month ago and gave the signal that the plan was a go yesterday evening, with a palmed note to the elderly Duty that escaped his Shadow's notice. To the grey Elf's credit, he didn't bat an eye when he surreptitiously read it, the brief glance of the text, the fleeting glance at the Elf woman behind him masked perfectly. And the message was passed to its intended, who devised the torture himself so that Ulric could not ruin things with his terrible poker face.
All according to Keikaku.
It was time to go.
Irielhos had been good to him. The Elves had been good to him. But he had to leave the nest and get out into the world for a while. He would rather it have been to enjoy the marvels of a foreign world as a tourist or visiting scholar of sorts. Instead, he was going to be doing it as a predator with a very particular prey that liked to disguise itself as people.
But people didn't use horrors like the Bane. They didn't attack a group of people trying their best to be left the hell alone or send assassins aiming for children.
Ulric was saddened to find out that humanity seemed to have some of its flaws baked into the hardware, so to speak. All it took was a few madmen. Just a couple of these monsters, wearing Human skin, in the right place, at the right time, with a motive and the power to execute it.
Grim thoughts accompanied Ulric through his morning exercises, the usual peace they offered denied him this day. A reformed Taipan went through her own routines for facing the day. In mostly silence, they packed their gear into travel packs, a little on the heavy side to provide protection from the Winter's fading grasp. It was starting to warm up out there, but the air still had a considerable bite to it, especially when clothes grew wet from the ever-present snow.
Modern textiles were non-existent, of course. No specialty waxes or hydrophobic treatments to create bomb-proof cold weather gear. It turned out that the Iriel'en knew of an astounding number of different animal hides that offered ridiculous protection from the inclement weather, however. They were frequently as heavy as they were resistant to the elements. There were exceptions.
Notably, the cloak Ulric wore made of [Forest Lord] hide was one. It weighed about what a nice leather duster would have in his old life but shed water and the fur, turned inwards, held his body's heat incredibly well.
Taipan had her own bit of Elven Winter tech, a thick overcoat that was made up of two animal hides sewn together. The outer layer was some kind of giant river otter the size of a walrus, totally waterproof, while the inner layer came from something similar to those jumped-up wolverines, [Polar Weasels], that was heavily insulating. Tents? Check. Snowshoes? Check. Weapons? Uh oh.
Ulric realized that he had never spoken with Smith Uldin since their disastrous first meeting.
A meeting that had been engineered by his lovely Shadow to be as uncomfortable as possible, with the Smith playing along as a fine example of Iriel'en humor. They just loved to dick with people, the longer they could keep the ruse going the better. Taipan had rolled on her Uncle one night when Ulric had jokingly threatened to break up with her for an "Elf with proper shoulders and who could provide for his household's needs". She hadn't done so because she thought he was serious, merely to fulfill her promise to "put in a good word" for her Uncle who enjoyed the company of a man of Ulric's general shape and disposition. When Ulric confirmed that he had no such interest, but thank you for the compliment, she relaxed.
It was no exaggeration to say that her Uncle Uldin was considered quite the catch. If he hadn't kept himself cooped up, buried in his projects and obsessions, he'd have been a big hit on the dating scene. Ulric could sympathize. He wished the Smithing savant well in his romantic pursuits but, unfortunately, Ulric found nothing appealing about the male form. That stance got slightly confused when he saw Bald'rt Iriel who was a dead ringer for his knockout daughter, but with a decidedly masculine bent. It still creeped him out a little, although he was getting over it.
In any case, Uldin's personal life was not the problem. The problem was that he still had Ulric's armor and had promised Ulric a sword, made using the captured weapons of a Beastkin and Human in the party that had taken Brighteyes. Weapons whose metals were of a rarity and quality that was at odds with the half-bandit scum bags from whose corpses he'd taken them. Given his lack of re-mastery of his full arsenal of elemental magics, he was going to need those more brute-force solutions to problems.
Glancing up from his travel kit and at his notably better-armed traveling companion, Ulric decided to mention the obvious.
"I'm gonna need to fetch my armor back from Master Smith Galen Uldin before we go."
Taipan frowned a touch. She knew better than anyone the finicky nature of her effective 'godfather'. He was a perfectionist by nature. When he finished a project that meant that it was of a quality and craftsmanship unparalleled by Iriel'en Smiths. The problem was that any perceived defect or imperfection relegated the item to the demanding Elf's refuse bin. Weapons that would be considered masterpieces elsewhere the Elf had tossed into a hodgepodge barrel to be used to bang around and test different ideas for more worthwhile projects.
It had been over two months since the Master Smith had taken on this project for Ulric, bribed by being able to study Ulric's replica Roman armor. First, the Lorica, a set of overlapping plates of [Forest Lord] bone, fastened to a leather jerkin from the same creature. Over this could be worn a set of large pauldrons of the same. An armored skirt, simple vambrace, and greaves completed the set. He'd never figured out how to shape a helmet. Nor had he properly been able to do boots. He wasn't going to lie about it, the Elven cobblers had been a gods send, he was not a fan of his rough bush boots.
In any case, the techniques and concepts of a foreign civilization had been an inspiration for the touchy Smith and he'd accepted Ulric's order on that account. That and to help keep his "Little Girl", as he referred to Taipan, from having Ulric drag her down at a critical moment. The question now was, would there be a weapon? Or, had Uldin gotten sidetracked, bogged down by his compulsive nature?
They left today, with or without the weapon, so he had to hope. Off to see Uldin!
Ulric took some comfort knowing that the two of them had been deliberately fucking with him. Otherwise, he would be forced to admit that he had the conversational skills of a squirrel, a deep suspicion born of insecurity and neuroticism in his former life that he'd thought himself past. As they passed through Irielhos the small shops, stacks of materials, and carts being hauled on rickshaws, everything fairly well vibrated with activity. Elves bustled past, too busy to stop but he met eyes with a good few of them and many fleeting greetings were thrown his way.
The former Smithing Guild was a sad reminder of the loss of life during the mage assault. The debris was gone and the charred sections of foundation had healed, courtesy of the living [Heartwood] of which nearly every building in the city was constructed. Scaffolds were raised and Elves with the agility of spiders were climbing them to reassemble the superstructure. An enterprising team of three was roofing with some kind of slate shingle, one of the few nonwooden materials used. Made sense for a smithy place to want some improved fireproofing.
Especially after the attackers had clearly intended to use fire to burn the fortress to the ground. The only reason they hadn't been successful was the insane durability and innate resistance of [Heartwood] to fire. There was a heavy Terra component to the mana signature of Irielhos, the great tree from which the fortress was made that lent the Tree Guardian and possible pseudo-diety, resistance to flame beyond what anybody not Iriel'en would suspect.
The odd couple of Human and former Elf royalty moved along through the hustling sights of the city to find a somewhat out-of-the-way corner overlooking the forests below. A sprawling ranch-style home with an attached smithy that belched smoke from an internal forge fire. Uldin was working, as usual. Smith Galed Uldin was something of a hermit, who buried himself in his work and study of the materials and techniques of his craft, an Elf after Ulric's own heart.
Ulric deeply regretted not being able to spend more time picking the Smith's brain. The attack had put a great many things to waste, his chance to learn Vardan metallurgy, not the least. Not near the top of the list, mind, too many lives had been lost or devastated for that to be true, but Ulric could have probably helped Uldin figure out some neat tricks if they'd gotten to sit down and trade pointers. The metals of this world were beyond anything he'd ever seen with their bizarre combination of traditional alloying and physical grain structures and synergistic mana fields that amplified properties or conferred entirely new ones.
Sighing at the loss of such a magnificent opportunity to pick up a part of his former life that he'd loved he knocked on the thick wooden door, noting reinforcements to the hinges and latch. A metal frame as well.
Ulric smiled, recalling kicking in this door when Uldin had made him wait an hour outside, part of Taipan's ploy to fuck with him. She knew he hated being made to wait without reason.
He gave it a moment. Odds were, the Smith was working in his smithy, a place resistant to sound by necessity, thick stone walls were a good idea when you were dealing with forge fires, metal sparks, and white-hot bars of stock being shaped with tong and hammer. Ulric knocked again. Add to the soundproofing of the stone-walled smithy that, if Uldin was working, that the roar of the forge fire, and ringing of metal would be quite loud.
They waited another five minutes.
Ulric was beginning to chafe. Wonder how sturdy that frame is? He questioned himself, not rhetorically at all.
Taipan glanced at him and pushed a nondescript decorative carving in the wall. A carving that had blended into the background of the rest of the reliefs. Now that her finger was on it, Ulric saw that this broke the natural motif, this carving was of a large timber framed bell, like one that might be found in the old antique churches of his pre-collapse world.
Ulric heard a loud clang from the smithy, the sound carrying as if a bronze bell was struck solidly.
Taipan studiously ignored his pointed glare as they heard shuffling through the door and a series of locks being manipulated with heavy clicks.
"You never asked." She commented as the door swung in.
Ulric was prevented from suggesting several feats of inhuman flexibility by the rush of a huge body that nearly knocked him from his feet and the refreshing squawk of his Shadow being buried by the form of the largest godsdamned Elf Ulric had ever seen.
Well over two meters tall, at least six centimeters over even Ulric's head, and he was quite tall compared to the Iriel'en, the Smith lifted Taipan easily. The deeply tanned arms, corded with muscle crushed her easily against a massive barreled chest and shoulders layered in ropes of mass that was imbued with strength greater than the iron he worked, tightened around her, choking off her protests with a strangled "Ghak!" that was deeply satisfying to Ulric.
"Liiiittle Giiirrrl!" Cried the disturbingly high melodic voice of Taipan's "Uncle Uldin".
Burying his face in her side, Taipan was subjected to an intense nuzzling of the burly Elf's face into the material of her coat over her stomach.
Muffled but still beautifully melodic, the Master Smith scolded, "You did not even visit me! All it takes for you to forget about your Uncle Uldin is a new toy, I knew I should have visited him first, before you set your claws in him. Now I do not get to see either of you!"
Welp, Ulric was now reminded why he'd run away the first time.
Taipan adopted the detached dignity of a cat ignoring its owner's overzealous attentions to manufacture a reality in which it was not being manhandled. Eventually, Galed Uldin had his fill of snuggling his "heart sworn daughter", near enough to the godparent practice of some of the more old-fashioned cultures of his prior world, and set her down. He didn't release her though, instead holding her to his side and smiling at the top of her head as if she were a child of six and he her mature uncle, rather than she a well over hundred-year-old huntress of eminent skill at murder, and he a half millennium old master of arcane metallurgy.
Everybody should have someone in their life that loves them the way Taipan was loved by Galed Uldin.
"Uncle, we do not have time for this!" Complained Taipan, unable to escape her Uncles clutches, "My Honor and I depart today, at the request of Lord Lumyt'seit, to take vengeance on our enemies!"
"And the wind blows through the leaves!" Dismissed her Uncle easily.
"I have seen no fewer than three wars with Otherkin, and this one will end similarly. Even if not, if I am not to be allowed to spoil my Little Girl then I do not care to see that future." The Smith announced proudly.
A few passersby on their way to complete some grim task of war paused long enough to grin at Taipan. One of them shouted "You must collar your pets Uldin, else someone else will take them in!" drawing a gesture Ulric had been led to believe was incredibly offensive from his Shadow towards the departing back, still shaking with its laughter.
"Come inside, the both of you! I will make tea. It is good to see you again Glade Chief, glad I am that you survived your wounds. I heard there was some doubt on that account in the first days." Uldin said, chivvying the both of them easily into the cozy chaos of the inside of his home.
Ulric allowed himself to be moved, having accepted that there wasn't much he could do about it that didn't involve knives, and took in the scenery.
It was, largely, the same, in the way that a room can be so messy that, just because nothing is where it was, it still appears unchanged. The average position of the objects strewn about was all that mattered. Bars of metal, scraps of leather, scales, various types of twine, jars of colored dyes or enamel, or something that gave off an acrid odor were scattered around. One of Ulric's cores was fastened by braided wire to a gnarled staff of some type of wood with which Ulric wasn't familiar. The core, a [Bladefern Elk] by the looks of it, pulsed threateningly.
Of Ulric's armor, there was no sign.
Taking a bite of patience, he summoned a significant portion of will to endure whatever nonsense Smith Uldin was going to throw his way. And he kept his face studiously blank to avoid tipping off Taipan.
A teapot came to a boil in the fireplace, scattered parchments too close to the coals to be anything but a massive fire hazard.
"How many times have you burned this place to the ground?" Ulric had asked the question out loud accidentally.
"Six." Answered Uldin without hesitation, "It is easier than cleaning. Whatever doesn't survive the fire doesn't deserve to have my attention anyway." Declared the Elf with exactly zero uncertainty.
It occurred to him that Taipan's Uncle might not be entirely stable.
"Ah. I see." Ulric lied gently. He did not see, but it wasn't his place to judge how another man chooses to live his life.
"Thank you for your concern about my health, Smith Uldin." Ulric said, plowing forward, "It was a rough patch but I came out alright. Better than many, better than I probably had any right to. I owe a great deal to the Medicos and his assistant, Yes'ir and Grendha. They did as well as I imagine could be possible under the circumstances and I am most grateful to them. You and your shop were unharmed yes?"
Uldin nodded briefly, pouring a battery acid strong tea into wooden cups to serve as he did.
"That is so. I was located too far away from the guild hall to be included in the attack. Doubtless, the attackers thought I would be located there, the fools. Many of my brethren were not so fortunate. It has been a challenge to take up so much of their work, to keep things on track. I spend more time outside my own smithy than in it, as of late." Uldin said with heavy regret, both for the losses and for the necessity of his being pulled into a more, involved, position than he'd had in decades.
"I retired from the guild long ago, to follow my interests. The attack changed that, of course. All hands are needed and I cannot indulge my whimsy while I can help my people. Speaking of which, rumor has reached my ear that you were instrumental in finding a way to save my dear friend Bald'rt from Bane poisoning. If you had found me earlier, I would have kissed you soundly, whatever your preferences. Alas, it seems my Little Girl has claimed you and I would not be so tactless as to poach. Especially not when she so rarely finds a lover to hold her interest." recounted the Smith.
He had a funny way of mixing the awful and the embarrassing, as if the contrasts served to balance one another in his mind, did Uldin. It was an idiosyncrasy that probably served him well in his craft.
It was like verbal whiplash to Ulric. From the bitter to the sweet without transition, he was thoroughly unbalanced.
"Th-Thanks, I mean, I'm glad I could help." He stammered. "Wait. Exactly how many people know about me and Taipan?" He asked, mildly flummoxed that his personal affairs might be a topic of discussion.
"The entire fortress knows and a collective sigh of relief has gone through its peoples. If my Little Girl did not find an outlet soon, we were afeared there would be blood in the streets every time someone spoke to her." Joked Uldin.
Taipan's unamused sniff indicated that she did not agree with the assessment.
"That is enough exaggeration from you Uncle. I have had lovers whenever I wanted them and I saw none interesting enough to keep me from the wilds." Argued his Shadow vigorously.
"Oh? When was your last? Was it that sketchy Aktinian captain, the one with the shoulders and the [Razor fin] teeth marks down his leg?" Prodded Uldin nonchalantly.
Now Ulric was curious. He hadn't asked Taipan about her romantic past, mostly because it was just that, and he wasn't the type to demand a laundry list from his interests. Seemed sort of…narcissistic.
Taipan was frowning. Ulric had to know now. If she was this expressive about it then it must be a juicy tidbit of gossip; potentially, it might be something he could use to tag her with when they were trading insults or setting traps for one another. That hadn't stopped since Taipan had decided against being a hateful dickhead towards him, it had just reverted to the normal Elven social lubricant of teasing one another. According to Brighteyes, it was a particularly Iriel'en custom. They were relentless about it and no one was safe, except for the Duties of the fortress towards whom none would direct any form of insult. Many of the other Elven tribes considered them obnoxiously difficult to be around.
Refocusing in his Shadow, Ulric waited for her to rise to her Uncle's challenge.
She hesitated, glancing at Ulric briefly before taking the bait. The woman was almost biologically incapable of refusing a barb.
"There was nothing wrong with Olith'rn, Uncle. You just didn't like him because he said your Smithy smelled like rotting eggs." She replied, as if forced.
"I seem to recall that, when you stopped seeing him, you called him a 'Web-footed Slackwit, who could not take a joke'." Uldin jabbed, catching her off guard.
"That! I may have said something unkind in passing…any way that was eight years ago why would you bring up such a thing now?!" She cried.
"Because if I can show your Honor how vicious you can be I might have the chance to win him over. It is not poaching if he runs away on his own, yes? I have my work cut out for me though, you were so busy bedding him that you could not find time to visit me once in an entire season." Declared the Smith shamelessly.
Ulric held in a laugh. This was going about as well as last time, only he wasn't the object of the peculiar Elf's humor. It was becoming clear now, how Uldin and Bald'rt had become friends. Talking to them was like juggling cobras.
Taipan's ears were beginning to turn red as the words of her Uncle, once so gentle and considerate, rolled over her.
"Anyway," Ulric interjected trying to put the brakes on this train before it derailed. He should have known better, all he'd done was earn himself the burly Elf's attention.
"Not that I blame you for this, Glade Chief." Uldin said, as if afraid to have implicated Ulric in this indiscretion. Which was a little off-putting, as if he'd had no say at all in any of it.
But Taipan's "Uncle" wasn't done yet.
"My Little Girl always has had a fascination for a tall, broad-shouldered man. I knew she would not be able to help herself, even if she tried to pretend otherwise. Though she was, *cough* overly harsh in her subterfuge. I apologize, Ulric, I could have warned you about this, had you not been forced to go elsewhere in such a hurry last time. Her Mother was the same way, she would look sideways at a lover for a year before she got around to tackling them. It is good that you have put a glow in her cheeks, otherwise, she would make your life-"
Master Smith Galed Uldin was interrupted by a half-empty cup flying towards his head at high speed.
He dodged artfully, slight lean that might have been by accident except he had kept a carefully studying eye on his adoptive daughter, judging her increasing unease with a tiger's awareness of a lame leg.
"Little girl! What is wrong, did you trip?" Uldin inquired innocently.
"Glade Chief, I am going to stand watch outside. Please, take whatever time you need to put your affairs to order." Announced Taipan with a studiously wooden tone.
She rose, stiffly, and strode from the room without another word. The twitching of her ear tips as she did spoke volumes as to her pulsing rage.
When the door closed behind her, violently, sending a reverberating crash through the room, Ulric turned to the muscled Elf.
They took each other in for a moment, measuring one another carefully. Ulric offered a fist to the air. Uldin raised his own larger mitt to lightly tap their knuckles together.
"It was beautiful, Uldin. A masterwork. I don't think I've ever seen her that angry, and I literally got her to try to kill me. You are rival to Bald'rt at fucking with people." Ulric told the Smith quietly.
The artisan sat back with a satisfied grin and finished his tea.
"Truly, it was my pleasure, Ulric. Just so you know, she hates being compared to her mother, even though the two of them are [Carza Nuts] sharing the same husk. Also, no doubt you already know this but she can be strangely shy at times, it is a vulnerability you should exploit when you wish to imbalance her. These tips I give as compensation for our previous meeting.” Advised Taipan’s wily Uncle.
“I would have apologized to you, had there been an opportunity, in these months. My Little Girl came to me with such a heartfelt desire to "play a little game" with her keeper. I did not know many of the details of how such a thing came to be, not until later. And besides, it was a very fun distraction. Just the thing to shake off the boredom I was feeling. It does you credit that you would look past it to set a trap of your own, using the same blade with which you were cut without her detecting it." The Smith praised.
Ulric had conjured this up over a month ago and gave the signal that the plan was a go yesterday evening, with a palmed note to the elderly Duty that escaped his Shadow's notice. To the grey Elf's credit, he didn't bat an eye when he surreptitiously read it, the brief glance of the text, the fleeting glance at the Elf woman behind him masked perfectly. And the message was passed to its intended, who devised the torture himself so that Ulric could not ruin things with his terrible poker face.
All according to Keikaku.
