Impenetrable

[Laveriel]

Impenetrable

13th of Searing, Year 123 of the Age of Steel

“Knight-Captain d’Revrinti, how may I help you today?” Knight-Captain Thomas Calgore immediately greeted her as she entered the forge. Veriel hadn't even had the chance to introduce herself, but he seemed to know who she was. The spellforged knight was in his fifties, with silver streaking through his red mane of hair. When he smiled, she could see a chipped tooth that had been reinforced with silver. He didn’t spend long looking at her, his eyes immediately returning to the gauntlet he was working on.

“I was hoping to ask for your help,” the siltori started, closing their distance. The heat of the forge was enough to make her pull her black hair back and tie it into a bun as she spoke. “I wanted to order armor from the blacksmith, but he told me to find you instead. Said you are the best runesmith around.”

The knight used to have proper armor, but like most of her other belongings, she left it under the ruins of Ailos. After escaping the siege, owning one was just too much trouble. It was not something she could easily transport while on the run. Besides, anything too high-quality or magically-enhanced would be easily identifiable. However, now that the Dawnmartyrs had solidified their footing in Kalzasi and with Talon returning to them, it seemed like an appropriate time to make one.

The only set she owned - the exact one she was wearing - was made of worn leather and didn’t quite fit in several places. It was the best she could get a few years ago. After facing shadow monsters and gravebounds, it was obvious to her that it offered very little protection against what the world could throw at her.

He chuckled, finally putting down the hammer in his hand… Only to pick up what looked like a tuning fork. “You flatter me, lass, but that’s not quite right. Our very best runesmith currently resides in the Temple of Light.”

It took her a few moments to realize who he was talking about. “You mean our Lightbringer?” While she wasn’t very knowledgeable about the prince’s past, even Veriel had heard that he was a master of runeforging. It certainly didn’t cross her mind until the man mentioned it. “Are you suggesting that I ask him?”

The runesmith nodded enthusiastically, turning his head pointedly to the direction of the temple. “I can assure you, nothing I make can even dream of comparing to his creations. Why come to a mortal man when the divine is walking among us?”

The siltori shook her head, following his gaze out the window. “I am sure anything you, a mortal man, make is good enough for me.” The thought of asking Arcas himself to make an armor seemed ludicrous. “I can’t possibly bother him for a request like this. I am sure a demigod has much better things to do with his time.”

Captain Calgore raised an eyebrow at her, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Who knew that our fearsome Wrath is actually a timid one.”

“But I-” Veriel started to protest, only to be cut off as the runesmith waggled his fork in front of her face.

“No buts. Let me put it like this, captain. If there is one person in our ranks that Arcas would want to have the best protection, the best gear, it would be his Wrath, yes?”

—————————————

After a few minutes of convincing, Veriel finally let herself be pushed out of the spellforged’s smithy and made her way to the temple. The old man convinced her the worst thing that could happen was that she got a no. He lectured her like she was a child and she had to stop herself from reminding him that she was much older than him. Whatever the case, he had promised that he would make something for her should he be proven wrong.

The structure was as beautiful as always, but it also seemed to shine just a little bit brighter when its creator was in close proximity. Talon was most likely in Dawnhold somewhere, but the temple was a solid place to start.

[Talon]

T A L O N

As Laveriel approached the Temple of Light, a figure stood at the steps to greet her. He was comparable to a human in height and stature. Clad in armor of silver and gold, with two wings of silver stretching out behind him, he was stock still. Inhuman eyes of blazing white fire stared at Laveriel beneath a silver helm. Eyes that burned with the Fire of Justice and an unquenchable drive for Retribution to be exacted upon all who stood in Judgement before him.

Alatar, Ara of Justice. One of three spirits that guarded over the Temple of Light and also attended to the Holy Realm of Light in Arcas’ absence.

He stared at Laveriel but in his gaze, there was kinship to be found. Laveriel had been declared the Wrath of Arcas, his Hand of Justice and thus one of his most trusted champions. The Ara inclined his head as Laveriel approached.

“Come. He awaits you.” The great spirit motioned to the temple behind him.

Alatar turned, guiding Laveriel into the interior of the Temple of Light. The crystalline stones of the temple shone pristinely, bathed in sunlight that seemed to seek out the structure intentionally. Once inside, the halls were quiet except for the reverent whispers of various spellforged magepriests that were going about their business. The work of compiling the sacred literature of the Temple had begun in earnest, as the wisest of the Knighthood sought out Talon’s perspectives and beliefs regarding many subjects. It would be an endeavor that took quite a bit of time but the scribes were committed to enshrining as much of Talon’s beliefs into holy scripture as possible.

Alatar said nothing as they walked. Of the three Great Spirits that watched over the temple, he perhaps said the least. Such was his nature and many took that to be indicative of how Justice overall should be construed. To act rather than to simply speak, was what gave meaning to the concept of Justice. When they reached the inner most sanctum of the temple, it was awash in silver-gold light that was almost blinding. It was impossible to see beyond the archway but standing on either side were two more holy spirits that were Alatar’s counterparts. To the right was a woman that seemed made of equal parts silver and light. Her white hair was crowned with a spark of light and from it poured forth an abundance of inspiration, of belief in one’s own ability to persevere.

Ysana, the Ara of Hope.

Across from her stood another masculine looking figure that stood just slightly taller than Alatar. Like the Ara of Justice, he was clad in armor but his seemed bathed in golden sunlight. The eyes that stared at Laveriel were alight with golden fire that seemed as scorching as it was nurturing. Two golden wings extended from his back. His hands both rest upon the pommel of a greatsword whose tip was balanced steadily upon the polished floor of the temple.

Mythras, the Ara of Light.

Many within the knighthood expected that Talon would appoint two more champions in time. For if Laveriel was His Wrath and thus counterpart to Justice, there might yet be two more who stood as counterparts to Light and Hope. Who those people might be was anyone’s guess however.

“You may pass, Sacred Wrath. Go to Him.” The three spirits indicated that Laveriel should pass through the shining archway.

---

Arrayed before Talon was a diorama of not only the Citadel of Light but the town of Light’s Reach and the City of Kalzasi. Familiar but also…different. Constructed of Light and guided by his mastery over the magic of Masquerade, Talon had built a vision of the land as he saw it in the future. The plan that he had for Kalzasi, and to an extent, Karnor in the years ahead. He stood within his sacred realm, the Realm of Light, surrounded by what appeared to be a landscape that was far more tropical than what was native to Karnor. Crystal blue waters lapped gently at pearl white sands. A warm breeze ghosted through the feathers of his wings and played gently through his hair. Warm sunlight filled this realm’s clear blue skies and that light seemed to be sourced from him.

Any mask of mortality was cast off in this realm. Talon stood in the full glory of his divine lineage. His divine nimbus was fully manifested, with symbols of Justice, Light and Hope crowning his head. An aura of silver-gold light emanated softly from his form, laced with feelings and concepts true to the portfolio over which he presided. A huff drew his attention from the illusory display in front of him. Resting peacefully along the shore of the beach was a colossal dragon with scales of dark red and obsidian. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on his forelegs as he napped beneath the warm sunlight.

You have a visitor, beloved. Aoren’s rumbling draconic voice filled his mind. It prompted him to look up from his partner to see Laveriel stepping through the archway that led back to his temple.

Talon smiled.

“Laveriel. Welcome. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

[Laveriel]

Upon being greeted by Alatar, Veriel lowered her head in respect of the Ara. It was her second encounter with the celestial, but it was the first time she had heard his voice. His presence felt inexplicably familiar. Whatever tempestuous thoughts running through her head settled. He was the Ara of Justice, the aspect of Arcas she was chosen to represent. Perhaps that was why his company felt reassuring.

As they walked through the temple, Veriel nodded at some familiar mages who passed them by. Some gave her questioning glances, but she just smiled at them. It didn’t take long until Alatar stopped in front of a bright entrance. The two other Aras stood on the sides of the archway. Hope and Light. Both of them glowed with different lights, their presence just as soothing as Justice. She bowed at the three Aras and entered the room.

It was like stepping through a different reality - perhaps because that was exactly what she was doing. Her shoes sank into the soft, warm sand as she entered. The skies were startling blue in comparison to the darkened one of their world. Veriel would have loved to take a few minutes to bask in the scenery, to feel the water and the breeze, but the demigod’s presence was even more remarkable. The light surrounding him was dazzling, but not blinding. Very warm, but not scorching. Also, she didn’t miss the gigantic red dragon lounging on the beach that was Aoren.

Veriel wondered if she would ever get over the fact that the divine was walking among them, greeting her like friends.

“My Lightbringer,” she greeted with a bow and returned his smile. “It’s been too long since I bothered to find proper armor, so I went to the runesmith this morning to find out if he might have something I can use.”

The siltori couldn’t help but to approach the manifestation of the city. Veriel spotted Cloudhaven district and instantly prompted her to think about the battle last ash. She recalled the fight, her allies who seemed invincible, unimaginable enemies. It acutely reminded her of her own fragility. She was a mere mortal, fighting side by side with people with tremendous power. Rickter, Lyra, Hikami, Aoren.

Her saving grace was Novuril. If it wasn’t for that legendary sword, there was no doubt in her mind she would have been dead in that fight. But every dawnmartyr knew that one cannot solely rely on their blades or magical means. It was why their training was so grueling even before they were allowed to be initiated.

The knight-captain might never reach their level of power, but she wanted to do better. Far, far better.

Veriel turned her attention back to Talon. “The runesmith firmly scolded me for coming to him, instead of you. So here I am. I wish to commission an armor from you, my light. That is, of course, if it does not trouble you.”

[Talon]

T A L O N

“It is no trouble. I seldom pass up the opportunity to refine my craft at the forge.” He smiled, waving a hand over the diorama of Kalzasi and the surrounding countryside. The illusory projection shifted and swirled, breaking apart into golden particles that gathered around Laveriel. The particles danced across her form before spiraling away from her. The cloud of golden dust then reformed into three illusory projections of Laveriel dressed in three styles of attire. There was a projection of her wearing a combination of refined leather mixed with cloth giving an overall mage-warrior aesthetic mixing robes and armor. The next was her in a set of half-plate armor and leather, something that might befit a warrior who wanted to mix the versatility of both metal plating while enjoying the benefits that a quieter set of leathers might offer. The third was full plate armor that bore ornaments and iconography associated with the Dawnmartyr Order, complete with a resplendent helm tucked under one of her arms and a cloak that complimented the overall design.

“Understand that any design you choose is that of an aesthetic choice, really.” Talon clasped his hands at the small of his back. He examined the illusory projections with the eye of a practiced craftsman searching for details in need of improvement.

“No matter the appearance, the material will be as light as a feather and as hard as dragon scales.” There was a chuff from the very real, very close dragon prompting Talon to smile softly at his partner.

“I pride myself on fashioning vestments that do not impede the duties of the warriors who wear them.” He gave Laveriel a smile. It was a well-established fact that Talon’s Skyforge was one of the chief suppliers of arms and armaments to the Sky Guard. Such was only natural considering he was also the Highlord who financed and led the military institutions that protected Kalzasi and its territories.

“The only relevant question is what would you like the armor to be capable of? I can craft most anything you can imagine. It will merely take time and resources.”

[Laveriel]

The knight-captain blinked as she saw three version of herself hovering in the air in front of them. She couldn’t help wondering how the projection worked for the briefest moment. Each of the armor was beautiful and intricate, but also strikingly different. Veriel was grateful enough that Talon accepted her request, she hadn’t imagined that she would be able to pick the design.

Veriel pointed at the one at the center, the one with a balanced amount of steel and leather. It felt suitable for a warforged like her. “I do like the look of that.”

The siltori returned his smile. “I have full trust in you, Lightbringer.”

She nodded. This part Veriel had given a thought before. “I don’t know how doable this is, but I want the armor to also act as a totem to store my afflictions.” She didn’t know how familiar Talon was with the magic of curses, so she added a bit more. It also was not the most popular magic to be wielded by her comrades - which Veriel mostly can understand. Her friends had tried to stop her from getting initiated, before finally relenting against her stubbornness. And the initiation itself... it was a torture like no other. Even just thinking about it made her shudder. “Usually afflictionists place their curses in a morbus domicillius, dragonshards most of the time - or in my case, I use my pact weapons instead. Perhaps the same concept can be applied to the armor?”

After a few moments, Veriel followed up with another question, a concern that had been entering her mind more recently. “You said hard as dragon scales… will it be able to withstand Imperial guns and bullets?” No doubt that her question gave them a hint of what she had been thinking of these days, but it wasn’t like she was hiding it anyway.

Actually, it led her to another thought, something that she probably should have asked him far earlier. “If I may ask, Lightbringer, what does it mean for me to be your Wrath? I am truly honored, but I do wonder about it. What do you expect of me? What do my comrades expect of me? Am I supposed to wield your Justice as you command? As I see fit?”