The young runesmith had taken the Lady Kala's offer to assist him in the creation of the tools he would need seriously, and in seriousness, he had prepared. They had planned together what materials he would use and set dates that they could work together.
Dipping into his carefully saved store of gold, the work of twelve years working as an apprentice and holding on to every penny that need not be spent, he went with his current teacher when the man went to purchase supplies for his smithy and bought forty pounds of good ash steel. The expense seemed large to a lad who had barely bought himself new clothes until he was bursting out of his old ones. His master had raised a brow at the use of the more expensive mental, but the money had been saved for this purpose, to set him up with a new life that belonged to him alone and he didn't want tools that would wear out or break.
The elder runesmith did not question his purchase aloud, the man knew Torin would be leaving come the change of the season and tools would be needed. Some men would have bought them but Torin felt that if he, as a blacksmith, could not forge them himself then what was the point of all his training? So, he'd spent his free time, and those free moments that working in a forge allowed as things heated, cooled, or rested, crafting at work for himself. His master did not mind this, so long as his quality of work did not slip in what he was being paid to do.
The more delicate tools needed for setting up a runeforge were made thus, since Kala would need them to enchant with her own world magic. A set of chisels, three sizes of tongs, and a tonal fork he was able to create on his own. The three sizes of basins he'd decided to start with had to be poured and he'd borrowed his teacher's molds for the task. The anvil base had required Torin to push himself out of his comfort zone to beg the runesmith master's assistance. He knew how to heat the large ingots to glowing orange but the work to keep them hot and the many hours of swinging a massive hammer were more than he could accomplish on his own. The man had seemed surprised, since Torin had accepted all his instruction but never put himself out to ask for help before. Perhaps the older man had been pleased that, after using Torin to teach the younger boys so often it was finally his turn to be the pupil.
The work had taken weeks of on and off time, culminating in a whole day spent with his teacher heating and pounding away at the many pounds of fine metal it took to shape the base for his anvil.
Outside of that the boy, taking his first steady steps into manhood, had gone to the stone supplier suggested by the more experienced wisdom of his teacher and spent more of his wages on fine soapstone. One piece a long slab, four feet long and two wide, almost two solid inches thick. A second one as a solid block which he paid to have shaped into a large kiln. He went to check on the carving work whenever he had a spare half hour, often forgoing his lunches to assuage his anxiety. It was on one of these visits that he remember to ask if a mortar and pestle could be made of the leftover chunks of the same stone, feeling that it would be more right, somehow, to have all his tools of the same piece of earth.
At last, the work was done and he had the three stone pieces of what would become the tools of his trade sent directly to Cintamani Pavilion, into the care of the Kala Leukos, accompanied by a lengthy letter about their creation in case it might matter to the application of her Scrivener's pen.
When the base of his anvil had cooled, a process that took more than a whole day, he'd had that loaded into a cart with the basins and sent over as well.
The smaller tools he brought himself, on the appointed day, wrapped in a leather carrying case he had tooled for them himself, held tightly under one arm. When he arrived, somewhat paler and even quieter than he usually was he could only nod to the head servant, who he now recognized easily, and follow as he was led deeper into the beautiful fortress than he had yet been invited.
When the door was opened for him and he stepped into the well-appointed workplace it took some of his anxiety away. Partly because Kala had a calming presence all her own, and partly because the room looked appropriately filled with arcane secrets and mystical knowledge beyond Torin's ken.
"Morning," He managed, trying to steady himself, "Kala."
His instincts still shouted at him to bow to her, which he did in a small way, trying and failing to not seem off-balance. Stepping forward carefully he set the leather case onto an empty space on her workbench. "I thought we'd start with the small pieces? Or we can do the larger ones first, I don't really know what's easier. Or if you'd rather start with the harder bits..."
He trailed off, looking at the diminutive woman's face expectant and worried as a new mother.
