9 Ash, 121
Torin Kilvin was starting his first project inside his own runeforge. He had done minor things, created viscerite, tested out his tools in tiny projects that were used to test the lowest of novices and could be melted down and reincorporated into other magics later. His best and each of his tools had required their own testing to ensure his work, Kala's work, and that of the artisans and craftspeople he'd had to hire was up to the standard required to do the work he would be offering. They had passed, and easily, fitting into his hands and manipulating material and magic with an ease he had rarely attained with tools owned by other men. The pleasure he felt in these things which were his, the first things he'd ever considered wanting for himself; finally gained through work and will after years of yearning, was the deep sort, that went right down into the core of him and lit itself there, warm and glowing.
It made him feel kin to the tools, to the kiln and bench and humming dragonshards he'd brought down from the mountains himself. The Dawnstone he'd helped Kala and Kaus mine from the bed their family owned high in the peaks had made it feel personal and when they had gifted him some of what had been gathered he hadn't felt right, offering it up for sale to anyone who might want its magic made into a show piece. It felt right, on a level deeper than mere finances or business, it felt like a puzzle snapping together in his head, to use them to enhance his home. The first thing he made in his runeforge should be to protect it, to consecrate the place to him, and him to it.
The young smith had discussed it briefly with his mentor and been happy when his idea was met with approval that seemed to match his own, deeper, feelings about the project.
Whenever he was working in either forge, setting them up, lighting the blacksmithy, working his way through testing all his magical tools, he'd kept the Illumite in his pockets. It was his way, when he was working on something that meant something important to him personally. He felt he needed to know the stones and the magic within before he could ask it to change for him. In this case, he would not really be asking the stones to change, only to spread their magic in a small radius about the shop and house to protect it from illusions, from aether corruption, and to light it in the traditional sense.
He was going to make lamps, with sconces so they could be placed out front, or taken inside to the shop or the house as needed to provide light. The magical protection would be helpful in some circumstances, but they were more there to be shown off, a casual show of the ability of the runesmith who potential customers would be seeking to hire.
The work would take time, some in the making of the metal parts, some in the runesmithing them tougher, more solid, unlikely to break except under intentional attack. But much longer would be the time spent in the kiln, where the magic of the stones would need to be carefully coaxed into attaching itself permanently into the lamps. The stones themselves would be kept, held in the center of the lamps, but their magic would need to be taught its new purpose. Teaching it, rather than forcing it, was how Torin preferred to think about it. The relationship he tried to form with whatever magic he was using was something he'd thought was unique to himself, an eccentricity of his lonely childhood. But when he'd gone into the archives and read histories of runeforging it seemed to be that several of the old masters expressed a connection to the magic, even before they'd began using Semblance in tandem. He had even found once reference to the process being called 'songforging'. It had sent a little shiver of happiness through him to think that while his way of thinking hadn't been employed by his two teachers it might be known to any number of fellow runesmiths out in the world. If he'd known he would have asked the master runesmith at Starfall. Perhaps he would go again and have the chance to speak to her more personally. Her time was valuable, of course, but if he could trade his time in aid it might be possible she would spare him some.
As he let his mind wander through his many thoughts on the lamps he pulled the fine bronze he would use to make the bodies of the lamps from the cases the ingots had come in. The very fine grade of the metal had come in smaller ingots, and had been delivered in special boxes. Torin suspected this was to drive the price up, but he wasn't unhappy to pay it for something special. The molds he'd purchased for the bodies were the work of a master carver that had an excellent reputation. If the lamps turned out as well as he was hoping he would likely be purchasing all his molds from the man. A smith grew their stock of molds over time as they needed them. His first set had been for some of his tools, of course, but this was the first decorative one.
He melted down scrap steel first, poured it into the mold, and let it cool before breaking it open to check that everything was as it should be. The seams would need filing, as all molded works did, but they were so fine that, were he not picky with his own work, he could have left them without anyone but another smith or a fine arts dealer noticing. He could melt the steal back down for other things, or, maybe he'd use it as a normal lamp if someone ever wanted one, either way, he set it aside for then and got down to the real work. The fine bronze melted like a dream, creamy and shimmering almost like gold as it slowly collapsed into puddles that combined into a pool. In his youth, Torin had always been tempted to touch the liquid metals he worked with. He hadn't because it would have displeased his master, but even now there was a little tug; a pull to know what it felt like.
Hot, was what it would feel like, he knew from accidentally burning himself more times than anyone could attempt to count, but some strange part of his brain still believed otherwise. He shook his head, smiling at his own folly as he carefully removed the crucible from the forge with his longest set of tongs, leather-gloved hands steady as they poured the liquid metal into the mold. The process would take the better part of the day, bringing the metal to the right temperature, then pouring it and waiting for it to set, then repeating everything for the second one.
While the second set he worked on the first with the more delicate of his files, making sure each detail and curve were perfectly aligned, matched exactly with all the others. The second one took less time to go over, since he already knew the tiny trouble spots to look for with the specific mold, but it was still growing towards dark by the time he finished with it. Taking the two metal pieces into the runeforge he set them carefully down on the marble surface of his runesmiths' bench. He would need to use small aetherite stones to infuse them both with strength and a greater malleability than brittle bronze usually had before he would work the dawnstones into the frames. The small stones had been in the runeforge being drawn since that morning. Torin stepped over and used the aura glass positioned here and there over the forge to check that they were ready before placing the first of the lamps into the kiln and aligning it for the magic. The second one followed. The magic applied should be identical, should be cast as a single force into both pieces so they were twinned in more than just their appearance. When used inside each other's fields of light and protection they should be able to amplify and spread it to cover a wider area than either could independently.
Once everything was in place he turned back to the runeforge and removed the special type of crucible used to extract magic in a form that could be used and poured the contents into the kiln. It took hours more, until dark had good and truly fallen before the careful attaching of each strand of magic to strengthen the metal casings had been laid down into each. It would take longer, a day or more at least, before the power had settled into the lamps but it was a start.
Stepping back he realized he was a little dizzy. The intensity of the concentration mixed with the long hours at work in the heat and not always remembering to hydrate properly... or eat, were catching up to even his strong body. Giving the lamps one final look over to convince himself he hadn't missed anything he closed the kiln and left it to do its work.
Torin would check again, before he went to bed, but for now, he needed a break. Stretching his arms up as far over his head as he could manage he felt several pops as his back realigned itself. Washing quickly in the horse trough which served as his work washbasin for now he went into his new house to find himself a shirt and clean enough breeches to go out in. A good dinner was what he needed then, and somewhere he could be around people, just listen to the local talk and feel at home.
When he was ready he made his way out through the gate with a final glance back at the friendly glow coming from both forges. It wasn't all the work he would have to put into either the lamps or the home, but it was a beginning.
Torin Kilvin was starting his first project inside his own runeforge. He had done minor things, created viscerite, tested out his tools in tiny projects that were used to test the lowest of novices and could be melted down and reincorporated into other magics later. His best and each of his tools had required their own testing to ensure his work, Kala's work, and that of the artisans and craftspeople he'd had to hire was up to the standard required to do the work he would be offering. They had passed, and easily, fitting into his hands and manipulating material and magic with an ease he had rarely attained with tools owned by other men. The pleasure he felt in these things which were his, the first things he'd ever considered wanting for himself; finally gained through work and will after years of yearning, was the deep sort, that went right down into the core of him and lit itself there, warm and glowing.
It made him feel kin to the tools, to the kiln and bench and humming dragonshards he'd brought down from the mountains himself. The Dawnstone he'd helped Kala and Kaus mine from the bed their family owned high in the peaks had made it feel personal and when they had gifted him some of what had been gathered he hadn't felt right, offering it up for sale to anyone who might want its magic made into a show piece. It felt right, on a level deeper than mere finances or business, it felt like a puzzle snapping together in his head, to use them to enhance his home. The first thing he made in his runeforge should be to protect it, to consecrate the place to him, and him to it.
The young smith had discussed it briefly with his mentor and been happy when his idea was met with approval that seemed to match his own, deeper, feelings about the project.
Whenever he was working in either forge, setting them up, lighting the blacksmithy, working his way through testing all his magical tools, he'd kept the Illumite in his pockets. It was his way, when he was working on something that meant something important to him personally. He felt he needed to know the stones and the magic within before he could ask it to change for him. In this case, he would not really be asking the stones to change, only to spread their magic in a small radius about the shop and house to protect it from illusions, from aether corruption, and to light it in the traditional sense.
He was going to make lamps, with sconces so they could be placed out front, or taken inside to the shop or the house as needed to provide light. The magical protection would be helpful in some circumstances, but they were more there to be shown off, a casual show of the ability of the runesmith who potential customers would be seeking to hire.
The work would take time, some in the making of the metal parts, some in the runesmithing them tougher, more solid, unlikely to break except under intentional attack. But much longer would be the time spent in the kiln, where the magic of the stones would need to be carefully coaxed into attaching itself permanently into the lamps. The stones themselves would be kept, held in the center of the lamps, but their magic would need to be taught its new purpose. Teaching it, rather than forcing it, was how Torin preferred to think about it. The relationship he tried to form with whatever magic he was using was something he'd thought was unique to himself, an eccentricity of his lonely childhood. But when he'd gone into the archives and read histories of runeforging it seemed to be that several of the old masters expressed a connection to the magic, even before they'd began using Semblance in tandem. He had even found once reference to the process being called 'songforging'. It had sent a little shiver of happiness through him to think that while his way of thinking hadn't been employed by his two teachers it might be known to any number of fellow runesmiths out in the world. If he'd known he would have asked the master runesmith at Starfall. Perhaps he would go again and have the chance to speak to her more personally. Her time was valuable, of course, but if he could trade his time in aid it might be possible she would spare him some.
As he let his mind wander through his many thoughts on the lamps he pulled the fine bronze he would use to make the bodies of the lamps from the cases the ingots had come in. The very fine grade of the metal had come in smaller ingots, and had been delivered in special boxes. Torin suspected this was to drive the price up, but he wasn't unhappy to pay it for something special. The molds he'd purchased for the bodies were the work of a master carver that had an excellent reputation. If the lamps turned out as well as he was hoping he would likely be purchasing all his molds from the man. A smith grew their stock of molds over time as they needed them. His first set had been for some of his tools, of course, but this was the first decorative one.
He melted down scrap steel first, poured it into the mold, and let it cool before breaking it open to check that everything was as it should be. The seams would need filing, as all molded works did, but they were so fine that, were he not picky with his own work, he could have left them without anyone but another smith or a fine arts dealer noticing. He could melt the steal back down for other things, or, maybe he'd use it as a normal lamp if someone ever wanted one, either way, he set it aside for then and got down to the real work. The fine bronze melted like a dream, creamy and shimmering almost like gold as it slowly collapsed into puddles that combined into a pool. In his youth, Torin had always been tempted to touch the liquid metals he worked with. He hadn't because it would have displeased his master, but even now there was a little tug; a pull to know what it felt like.
Hot, was what it would feel like, he knew from accidentally burning himself more times than anyone could attempt to count, but some strange part of his brain still believed otherwise. He shook his head, smiling at his own folly as he carefully removed the crucible from the forge with his longest set of tongs, leather-gloved hands steady as they poured the liquid metal into the mold. The process would take the better part of the day, bringing the metal to the right temperature, then pouring it and waiting for it to set, then repeating everything for the second one.
While the second set he worked on the first with the more delicate of his files, making sure each detail and curve were perfectly aligned, matched exactly with all the others. The second one took less time to go over, since he already knew the tiny trouble spots to look for with the specific mold, but it was still growing towards dark by the time he finished with it. Taking the two metal pieces into the runeforge he set them carefully down on the marble surface of his runesmiths' bench. He would need to use small aetherite stones to infuse them both with strength and a greater malleability than brittle bronze usually had before he would work the dawnstones into the frames. The small stones had been in the runeforge being drawn since that morning. Torin stepped over and used the aura glass positioned here and there over the forge to check that they were ready before placing the first of the lamps into the kiln and aligning it for the magic. The second one followed. The magic applied should be identical, should be cast as a single force into both pieces so they were twinned in more than just their appearance. When used inside each other's fields of light and protection they should be able to amplify and spread it to cover a wider area than either could independently.
Once everything was in place he turned back to the runeforge and removed the special type of crucible used to extract magic in a form that could be used and poured the contents into the kiln. It took hours more, until dark had good and truly fallen before the careful attaching of each strand of magic to strengthen the metal casings had been laid down into each. It would take longer, a day or more at least, before the power had settled into the lamps but it was a start.
Stepping back he realized he was a little dizzy. The intensity of the concentration mixed with the long hours at work in the heat and not always remembering to hydrate properly... or eat, were catching up to even his strong body. Giving the lamps one final look over to convince himself he hadn't missed anything he closed the kiln and left it to do its work.
Torin would check again, before he went to bed, but for now, he needed a break. Stretching his arms up as far over his head as he could manage he felt several pops as his back realigned itself. Washing quickly in the horse trough which served as his work washbasin for now he went into his new house to find himself a shirt and clean enough breeches to go out in. A good dinner was what he needed then, and somewhere he could be around people, just listen to the local talk and feel at home.
When he was ready he made his way out through the gate with a final glance back at the friendly glow coming from both forges. It wasn't all the work he would have to put into either the lamps or the home, but it was a beginning.
