Kingdom of Rust Chapter 20 (Patreon)

The town was as dead and quiet as I remembered it from my previous visit. Or so I thought at first glance from my vantage point on the distant ridge. I had decided not to blunder into the town this time without checking it out from a safe distance first. It was a good thing I had.

In the center of town was the town well and parked next to said well was a two-horse cart. That wasn’t my concern, what was, was the woman standing next to the well, pulling a ball of water from it to feed the horse. I cursed my shit luck as I realized someone from Fraughton had sent a message to the Order to check out the city. Of course, they would be concerned about an entire town vanishing. Why wouldn’t they be?

Looking closer, I spotted a second man. He was inspecting the corpse I left near the guard shack. ‘Good,’ I thought, at least I managed to kill the man that attacked me that night. But two Chosen was bad news. Then as I kept watching, a third Chosen stepped out of Gan’s house and whistled for the other two.

I decided this was my time to leave as they were busy inspecting the damage I had done to the two homes. It's possible these three Chosen didn’t know anything about what I had done to my former mentor but I couldn’t take the risk.

I made my way back down the far side of the cliff and got on my horse. I didn’t know what to do now that getting into the city and looking around was no longer an option for me. There was the map but I hadn’t had any time to look it over yet. I did have one thing I wanted to accomplish and that was turning that metal tube into an actual blade. From my memory, there was the trade port to the southwest. It should have a trustworthy enough smith to forge me a new blade. So with that as my goal, I urged my horse into a walk in that direction. It would also keep the cliff between me and the city for a bit longer.

A cold drop of water landed on my head and I looked up. I didn’t see any clouds but the desert was weird about rainfall. I would need to keep an eye on the sky to avoid a torrential downpour and flash flooding.

My horse plodded along at a sedate pace so I could keep the dust down. This caused my journey to the port town to take twice as long as it should have. By the time I arrived, my hip felt like it was on fire, and dismounting my horse almost caused me to fall over from the pain.

A few deep breaths after getting both my feet on the ground helped center my mind and get it off the pain. Cass the healer had given me a small vial of milk of the poppy if my pain became too much but I didn’t enjoy the feeling of having my mind clouded so I endured the pain.

The port wasn’t as large as Bershal or Roddan but it was bigger than Shad. It was also packed with people coming and going. I kept getting jostled to the side as I walked through the crowd in search of a smith.

“Watch it, cripple!” one burly man shouted as he bodily slammed into me.

The bump made my pain flare again and I retorted angrily, “how about you watch yourself, asshole!”

The man stopped and gave me a glare, “bah, you ain’t worth my time,” he waved dismissively before turning around and walking away.

I let out a relieved sigh. My pain had gotten the better of me and colored my judgment for a moment. I needed to be more careful as I wasn’t in any condition to be getting into a fistfight in the street. Especially not with someone that was twice my size.

The crowds started to thin as I got closer to the rich part of town. I kept looking back along the path I had taken, not sure why just an odd feeling that I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t see anyone following me, no creepy gazes from dark alleys or windows either. I chalked it up to my nerves as they had been working overtime recently.

The sounds of ringing metal soon reached my ears and I smiled. The sound wasn’t as nice as what had come from the bell but it brought about a certain happiness upon hearing it.

Normally a dirty industry like a smith would be on the poor end of town, away from all the rich folk and fancy houses similarly to tanneries, and most low-end smiths were located out there. But I wasn’t looking for some bottom barrel smith that worked with pig iron.

The building was immaculate on the outside with two burly guards standing next to a doorway and a sign with the hammer and anvil as well as the words “Argath’s Exquisite Ironworks” written on it was proudly displayed above the door. The beauty of the building was only slightly marred by the dark smoke pouring from a chimney on the backside of the building. The guards eyed me as I hobbled over, likely thinking I was some beggar or something.

Despite my appearance, one of the guards held the door for me while the other gave me a stern warning. “Don’t cause any trouble inside or we will be forced to deal with you harshly.”

I nodded as I walked in.

The inside of the building was a showroom of some of the most expensive things I had ever seen. From simple leather armor with triangular metal studs all the way to a full steel breastplate that would have cost my father his entire house and a year’s salary. That item as well as some of the beautifully crafted swords were well out of reach and behind a counter. I assumed to keep people honest and sticky fingers away from their mirror finish.

It was also the first thing you saw when you came in the door, advertising that this smith was indeed skilled enough in his craft to make anything you had enough money for.

The man behind the counter quirked his eyebrow at me but didn’t say anything as I approached the counter.

“Greetings, I am Victor. What can Argath’s Exquisite Ironworks do for you this fine day?”

“I was wondering if I could speak with the smith about forging a sword?”

“Oh… while Argath is more than willing to forge anything you desire. The current waitlist for custom work is five years.”

“Five years!” I choked out in surprise.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Why so long?”

“Well, as you know, good metal is expensive and hard to come by. We have a set amount that the regional lord allows us to purchase so we can only craft so many things each year.”

“Oh, thank the Mother,” I sighed in relief. “What if I supplied the metal?”

The man didn’t react at all other than a small smile forming on his lips. I had to give him credit, he was good at his job. “Well, that changes things then. Would you mind if I examined the metal before bringing Argath out to speak with you?”

“Not at all,” I took my pack off and dug to the bottom where I had moved the metal tube. Taking it out, I handed it to the man who produced a handkerchief before accepting the tube. I did notice the tube hadn’t rusted at all since I had gotten it.

“Fascinating,” the man said as he inspected the tube, he looked down the inside as he pointed it at me and the memory of the woman doing the same bubbled to the surface for a moment. He flicked it with some weird metal fork that pinged and left my ears ringing. “Where did you get this if I may ask?”

I decided to lie since I didn’t want to explain that it came from a cult that worshipped the Father and may have used dark magic. “I’m a scavenger, it came from a Fallen City out east.”

“Oh, well, it's good to know that treasures like this are still lying in those old ruins. Please give me a moment and I will fetch Argath to speak with you. I think he would be thrilled to work on this project but it is ultimately his choice.”

A few minutes later Victor returned with a burly man with a bald head like mine but a thick black beard. “So I hear you have something interesting?” the man asked as he offered me his hand to shake.

I accepted the hand, finding it even more calloused and rough than my own. His hands were also massive and it made my more delicate hand disappear in his meaty grip. “Name’s Argath if you haven’t figured that out yet and who might you be?”

“Bakus,” I replied happily.

Argath simply grunted, “Not a noble twat eh, good. I get sick of making swords and armor for those ponces’.”

Victor gave a distressed yip, “Argath, please watch your tongue, you can never be too certain that a noble isn’t listening.”

“Bah let them hear, will do them some good to be taken down a notch,” he waved off the concern. “Is this the piece?” Argath said, pointing to the metal tube on the counter.

“Yup,” I replied quickly.

“Strange, any idea what it was used for?”

I shook my head, “best guess was a blowpipe.” Which was true.

Argath grunted, performing the same tests that Victor had. Then he stuck his meaty pinky into the inside of the tube before pulling it back out. It was covered in what looked like soot. The man stuck the black digit into his mouth and both Victor and I winced as he rolled his tongue around and smacked his lips.

“Carbon. It may have been used for something involving fire then. Well, it’s good steel in any case. What did you have in mind?”

“I need a sword to replace this,” I set my sword and scabbard on the counter and Argath drew it, eying the blade and damage.

“You’re awfully rough with a blade for someone so young. I’m guessing lack of experience instead of frequent use?”

A bit of both, I wanted to say, but instead just nodded.

He grunted. “You should work on your technique, a sword isn’t going to fix that for you.”

“I’m working on it,” I replied in shame.

“That’s good. Well, there is enough metal to reproduce the blade. I can do it for a thousand plates and have it done in two days.”

“I- I don’t have that much money,” I deflated. I had been so enthusiastic to get a new sword that my brain completely skipped over how I was going to pay for it.

“No…” the man sighed as he scratched his beard and inspected the tube. “How bout this. I’ll forge you a smaller blade and keep the extra metal as payment for services?”

I perked up at the suggestion before tempering those expectations. If this resulted in another throwing knife or dagger, it wouldn’t do me much good. “How much smaller are we talking about. I’m only really good with a short sword.”

“Well, there are a few options.” He went over dozens of sword options, showing me rough drawings of what they looked like in a book he had. Eventually, I settled on a long knife. It had a slight curve to it and flared out at the end to form a false edge on the back.

“It’s a good choice for slashing and stabbing but it’s a few inches shorter than your short sword so you’ll have to retrain your muscle memory. Also, the handle and pommel are going to be as basic as I can make them since you’re funding this work from extra material.”

“I am more than fine with that. Thank you again for working with me on this, how long do you think it will take to complete?” I didn’t want to rush the man but I had limited funds for staying within the city.

“I can have it done by midday tomorrow since we aren’t being fancy with it. I’ll include a sheath and care kit, so you best not let this good steel turn to rust or I’ll never work on anything for you again. Are we understood?” he asked pointedly.

“Absolutely, Sir.”

“Alright, get out of here and let me get to work.”