A Grand Blade (solo)

[Valcrist]

Has Valcrist ever mentioned how much he hated the cold? He did, he hated it so much. This is why he always dreaded coming to Ilia. Even years after leaving Nabata, it was hard to adjust to the weather outside the harshness he had known in the desert. His body still had a hard time dealing when the temperature dipped, and he considered most of Elibe in general to be temperate if a bit on the nippy side. It was one of the reasons he wore this thick coat and scarf everywhere, even in places where it wasn't quite so direly cold. Valen and Heygus knew this going in, but they weren't prepared for just how much Valcrist would whine about it. They laughed at him at first, teasing him mercilessly, but by now they were just sort of sick of it and would roll their eyes in perfect unison any time he opened his mouth. They were sure they were going to strangle the smith before the trip was over, and now was one of those times.

Valcrist sat in the back of the caravan, huddled over and shivering. The horses that pulled the wagons were large and covered in thick fur, and Val couldn't help be feel jealous of them. You see, the Valen and Hergus duo were a traveling caravan of two. They carried their not insubstantial wares with them wherever they went, accompanied by several mercenaries and handlers. Valcrist was a tagalong, having joined after the trouble in Bern caused him to accidentally take place in a terrorist attack after he helped a wanted assassin escape from persecution after almost killing an ilian official.

Basically, he wasn't even entirely sure if he should even be in Ilia. It was true that Bern problems weren't necessarily Ilia's and that he was masked for the majority of the time, it was still a little nerve wrecking. That's when he met Valen and Heygus, who immediately recognized his smith mark as the Terris family's. His mother was well known on the caravan circuit, and it seems that some of his own work has found its way around to them as well. They took him in to their caravan, as they could see that having a talented smith such as him in their pocket could pay off dramatically. Valcrist agreed, since he needed a place to hide out anyways and he cherished the chance to better his self.

Varen and Heygus weren't just any low level random duo, they were both famous and infamous. Mostly for the same reasons, but that wasn't the point. Their father was a famous merchant back in the day, and now he owned several boats and was an old seasalt while he let his children take care of the family business. The two were identical twins, tall and lithe with black hair and matching grey eyes. They both wore the same outfit, a white tunic underneath a brown vest with black pants and brown boots. As such, they were almost impossible to distinguish from one another. They had the same voice, the same appearance and many of the same mannerisms. It drove people crazy, as sometimes they would go out of their way and lie about who they are just to confuse people.

However, even though they looked the same they didn't deal in the same wares. Heygus dealt in general goods, things that average person would want. He had books, sweets, medicines, vulneraries, anything you could want. Varen however dealt in luxuries, things that were a bit more extravagant and expensive. Clothes, jewelry, fabrics, antiques, and countless rare items. They were known for their varied selection, but also their strict business sensibilities.

Valcrist had tagged along, dealing in weapons and other such goods. Mostly he did work for the duo to put in their own stores and rarely dealt with people himself, but he got commissions from time to time. Unlike those two, he didn't have his own wagon to carry his goods in. Instead he kept them all in a bulbous and large backpack he kept strapped on his back, it looked a bit larger then any person should be able to carry but it didn't bother him all that much. It made swift movements hard, but for just traveling he was fine.

So this is where Valcrist found himself, on a wagon carrying countless goods. Just one of many really, as the twins stayed at the head. Most likely discussing some business, or tricking one of the mercenaries. He didn't want to deal with them right now, he was too cold really. They were traveling a snow littered road in Ilia, heading north to the capital. They planned to stop there for a few days or a week or two before taking a ship back to Lycia where they would start their circuit again. If he stuck around long enough he'd probably find his self back in Bern or seeing Nabata once more. He viewed both possibilities with a dose of anxiety.

[Valcrist]

((Takes place after this post))

"So you're just giving away my jewelry now, I see." Varen crossed his arms and raised his brow at the smith as he watched the kid walking off with the dust emerald having a sort of doofy smile on his face.

Valcrist let out a heavy groan and roll of the eyes. "Ugh. Sorry. I'll pay for it, don't worry." The smile faded as the smith reacquired his grumpy expression once more. Sighing with a touch of indignation, it wasn't like he disliked the merchants or that he was even particularly angry at... well anyone. He just wasn't in the greatest of moods as of late, being in Ilia reminded him of some unpleasant things he would have rather forgotten. As well as some other things that simply put him in a state of melancholy. Honestly, the first time he had been happy for what felt like weeks was when he gave away expensive items to some random kid. Why did he do that anyways? Even the smith wasn't entirely sure of the reason. He was about to shuffle away before he was stopped by a hand on the shoulder.

"Hey man, I'm kidding. It's fine. Don't sweat it." Varen tried to reassure him, tilting his head and smiling, but the arch of his brows betrayed his concern.

"Thanks..." Valcrist grumpily replied with a small sigh.

"Is there something wrong Val? You've been kinda... moody. Well more so than usual. You're a moody guy." He said with that sort of mocking grin, Valcrist simply sighed. "That was the first time I've seen you happy in a while, and now you're back to Mr. Grumpy. What gives? And don't you dare say you're cold or I'm gonna punch you." He pointed a finger at the smith, eyes wide and mouth shut. The Nabatan chuckled.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He tried to wave it off, but he knew that it wouldn't fly. "Seriously don't worry about it. I'm just in a bit of a bad mood." Suddenly a random man just grabbed him by the neck and threw his arm around it as if to drag him down into a noogie. Alright, random man was a lie since Val knew it was Heygus before he could even see him, still a surprise attack was a surprise attack. "Oof"

"Val being a stick in the mud over here brother?" Heygus cackled as he held the smith in a headlock. One that he could easily break, but he wasn't really in the mood to fight.

"Heygus, leave Val alone. I think something's wrong." The first twin chided the second. Most people couldn't tell the difference between the two, but Val could. It was as clear as night and day to him. Heeding his brother's words, he let the smith go. Val took the time to straighten his scarf with a sort of sigh. "Maybe we should go to the inn and rest. The mercenaries can take care of setting up the shops." He offered the smith, the smith smiled. It felt nice that he was at least trying.

"No, it's fine." He didn't want to be a burden, and time wasted is money wasted after all. Those two probably want to peddle their wares as soon as they're able.

Heygus shrugged. "Well that's that. Come on Varen." He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and began to force him to walk away with him.

"Huh- wha- wai-" The twin began to sputter before just giving in. "Fine. See you in a bit Val." He called over his shoulder to the smith who was steadily growing more distant.

"Bye." Valcrist waved lazily. He took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out before groaning. "I'm cold."

[Valcrist]

"Varen, what do you think?" The smith sat inside of the wagon as men packed away the wares, readying themselves for the trek to the next town. He kicked his legs lightly, his mouth just sort of a bland looking line as he stared at the twin.

"I... uh... Think about what?" The twin looked confused, looking around a bit as if he was looking for something. "Did I miss a conversation we were having or something?" He crossed his arms as he replied to the smith's stare with one of his own. He had been overseeing the mercs load up his wagon, a lot of his items were very fragile and needed much care to be taken with them. If he wasn't there watching them like a hawk, they'll just randomly toss things inside and that's a perfect way to break stuff. Heygus was off, doing the same most likely. They had been in town a few days and it was time to pack up and visit the next. Valcrist, however, had been distant the entire time. Doing nothing but smithing, or sleeping. In fact when he came to ask if he could just hang around while Varen loaded his wagon he was happy, if not a bit skeptical. This whole thing reeked, just of what the twin couldn't say.

"Of me, of my smithing." He clarified, tipping his head back to look straight up at the wagon's top. It wasn't just this one wagon, but this was the one being loaded right now. "Do you think I'm any good?"

"What?" Was all the merchant could say. Was that what Val's moodiness was about? A little self doubt? Well then, it was time to bust out the silver spoons and pretend he was born with them. "Of course you are, don't be absurd. Why would we ask for a subpar artisan to come with us? Varen and Heygus only accepts the best, and you my friend are the best." Oh yeah, smooth Varen.

"Please spare me the triteness." Val responded with little thought. Ow man, cold. "I know what you 'should' say, and that was it. What I want to know is what you really think."

"I don't see why you think I'm being insincere. I mean it." The merchant cocked a brow as he stared at Valcrist, who seemed to be casually demeaning his self and not even paying attention while doing it. Wow it was making the him angrier than it really had a right to. "You can stop fishing for compliments now."

The nabatan sighed, pushing his self off the wagon with a grumpy look on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean... You've met my mother, right? I just wanna know if you think she'd be... Nevermind, it's stupid." He bent over to pick up his pack which he had leaning against the wagon wheel before the merchant began to cackle.

"Is this what this is all about?" He laughed as the smith glared. "Sorry Val, don't gotta give me the stink eye. I'm sorry you're homesick, how long has it been since you've been home?"

He sighed, and thought about denying it, but he was fooling no one. Much less his self. He's been homesick for a while now, but it wasn't until coming to Ilia where it really took front and center in his mind. Then when he met that kid who wanted to get something for his mom... Ugh. "A few years." Valcrist cooly responded. "I left without even telling her. I haven't heard from her since the last time I was in Ilia, and she sent me this sword." He unsheathed the windblade at his hip, a small gust of wind whipping out as if it was all sealed inside the sheath itself. It sent the trail end of his scarf whipping wildly in the breeze. "This blade is, well, a work of art. I've been using it for a while now, and it puts anything I've ever smithed to shame." He resheathed the weapon with a small sigh.

"You've smithed enchanted weapons before, haven't you?" Varen crossed his arms and raised his brow. It was true, that sword was amazing, but it wasn't like it was Durandal itself.

"Yeah, yeah." He said with a shrug. "I just sometimes feel as though I'm unworthy. Or something. You know what I mean?" He said with a small laugh.

"I know exactly what you mean. My father is an absolute legend of a merchant, there's nowhere he hasn't been and no merchant who hasn't heard of him. It's kind of hard to be walking in someone else's shadow, am I right?" He cocked his brow as he gestured to the smith. "But... I just try to be the best damn merchant I can be. There's nothing else I can do, and there's no point to get bent out of shape worrying about something that may not even be true. I don't know your mother that well Val, but I do know you. I know you're the best blacksmith I've ever had the pleasure of traveling with, and that you're plenty of fun to have around to boot. You know, when you're not whining about being cold or being all moody and grumpy" He finished with a laugh as a grin made it's way onto Val's face.

"Yeah... Yeah, I guess you're right. All I can do it just try my best." He sighed, there wasn't a whole lot he could do. While his words implied he was over it, that was far from the truth. Still it did feel a little less worrying, and him a little better. "Thanks Varen." Just as this little scene was wrapping up, Varen held up a finger as if to tell the whole world to quiet down for a minute.

"Wait... I have something I want to show you. I've been saving this, but...." He had a twisted grin as he looked at Val's confused face.

[Valcrist]

"What... is it?" He was more or less speechless. Valcrist simply stared for full minutes before uttering a most basic question that could mean everything.

"Honestly? I don't know." Varen replied with a chuckle. What he was referring to was a lump of metal. "It's not steel, it's not Iron. It's not even silver, it's something else entirely." The metal was strange to look at, almost a black sheen to it. Like obsidian, but it wasn't stone it was a metal of some sort. Valcrist cautiously reached out to touch it, expecting it to weigh dozens of pounds, but instead...

"It's so light." That was so odd. It looked thick, it looked sturdy. It looked like nothing he's ever seen before, and he's been smithing for years. Still, despite being so light after a few tests the metal proved to be quite hard unlike most other light metals like tin. It was something almost otherworldly. Like it didn't quite fit in with everything that Val knew about metal. Something different, foreign, and profoundly interesting. "How on earth did you get something like this?"

"This is some rare item some man found in some ruins, he sold it to me for 2000 gold. I took that offer, thinking at the time I was ripped off, but now I think I might of short changed him. Every smith, every smelter I've taken it to cannot place it. Like it was something outside of anything they've ever seen before, all giving that look you're giving me right now." He said with a laugh. The two were sitting in the back of the wagon with all the wares, but this wasn't just laying haphazardly. He had it carefully stowed away, hidden. Honestly Val was curious as to why he never saw it before now. He would have thought he would have recognized something like this. "Every smith I've taken it to has wanted me to give it to them, some were willing to pay upwards of 5000 gold just to get their hands on it. I've never taken them up on that offer, if only because I am so curious of what it really is."

"5000?!" That was more gold then Valcrist had ever had before. It almost floored him. "Are you crazy, that's a 3000 gold profit, you should have sold it!" He was almost at a lost for words, this didn't seem like the normally sly and frugal and business savvy Varen he knew.

"I know, that's what Heygus said." He laughed at the smith's reaction. "It's just... I don't know. It doesn't feel like something I should just sell willy nilly. It's rare, it's valuable, sure. But... I don't know." He just shrugged with a sigh. "I'm sure when the time comes I'll sell it for 10000 gold! But for now, I'm content to just keep it with me." He said with a sigh as he began to stow it away once more.

Valcrist groaned. He didn't want to say how much he would like to just... buy it. That didn't matter though, he didn't have 10000 gold, let alone 5000. He probably wouldn't know what to do with it anyways, but he just knew that if he had the chance... He'd forge a grand blade.

[Valcrist]

Valcrist was feeling a bit better now, all things considered. Sure he was still a bit homesick, and he was still a bit burned out because of the whole Bern thing, it seemed that Varen's talk with him regenerated him quite a bit more than he thought it would. So they wound up back where they started, traveling the roads with a caravan. Valcrist still sat in the back, as he always did, legs kicking in the air like a little kid. He liked the twins, but he was still a solitary creature. He felt a bit tense around people, even after all this time. Not anywhere even close to his previous self, but he still wanted to be alone from time to time. Maybe it was just him, maybe he was weird. He liked to be alone with his thoughts, for better or for worse. He spent almost his entire childhood alone, no friends, nothing. He read books, he drew pictures, he practiced smithing, he took care of his pet lizard, but the point was he did it all alone. His mother was busy almost all the time with work, there was no one his age in his village, and all his relatives were at least ten years older than him. No one really wanted to hang around with a kid, especially him. They wouldn't say it, but the fact his father was just some man they didn't know was always a silent topic that they all thought of when they looked at him. It made them uncomfortable, and it made him uncomfortable. They loved him, sure, but there was always that silent little barrier.

That's why he loved the caravans. They had interesting stories, they didn't care who he was. They either were happy to talk to some kid, or they told him to buzz off, but either way it went they didn't really know who he was or care for that matter. Living in a small town like he did, where there was maybe fifty people and half of them were related to him, it made things difficult to remain secret. So he learned to depend on his self. It was one of the reasons he was always so hard on his self, so self-critical. Why when he failed that it hurt so hard, why it was so difficult to learn to believe in himself. He always had this little fear he wasn't really good enough. Well, it wasn't really a little fear, there was a time it more or less overwhelmed his entire life. It caused him run, it caused him to blindly do things he knew he shouldn't have. It caused him to run from Kenshin and Yaen, after all why would they want to be around a stupid kid like him? It caused him to be so obsessed over Chelsea, after all if someone cared about him wouldn't that prove that he wasn't as bad as he thought he was? It caused him to abandon many people, many friends. It was painful to look back on now, how foolish he used to be.

Still, even after all this time, he still found himself sitting alone. He had friends now, he didn't hate himself anymore, he had confidence, he had pride, but it seems old habits died hard. He chuckled to his self as drew in his sketchbook with a quill and ink. The parchment loosely bound together like some sort of diary but filled with images instead of words. He was... well awful at writing. It was so hard, so many words, how did you pick the right ones? No, instead he prefered art. Inside this book was designs for weapons, pictures of people, sketches of animals and picturesque landscapes. Right now, however, it was playing host of art of some kind of blade. Details and hastily scribbled writing flooded the pages, each page like the one before. He was planning on making a new sword soon, and he wanted to design something beyond a simple steel saber. He had designs for Iron weapons, steel weapons, and even the elusive silver armament. This was none of those things however, instead it was a guilty design for a weapon he'll never get to make.

The ink had just finished drying before he looked at the image with a sort of sigh. Looking with a sort of sad look, knowing it was simply not meant to be. He took and ripped the page out and crumpled into a ball, tossing it somewhere in the stacks of priceless goods behind him. Now it was a stack of priceless goods and a worthless drawing. Still it was fun to dream, but he'd rather not have to look the dream in the face every time he wanted to sketch something.

[Valcrist]

"Valcrist, hey. Why you hanging all the way back here?" Hrm? Oh it was Heygus, what was he doing all the way back here? He usually sits at the head of the train, it's not common to see him all the way in the back with the mercs and the smith. The smith closed his book, stowing it away into his pack. Val was sitting in his usual spot, but that wasn't the unusual thing here. He looked at the merchant with a cocked brow.

"I'm always back here Gus, I should be asking the same thing." The merchant just laughed at what the smith said.

"Oh wow, not even a moment of hesitation. Am I really that different from my brother to you?" He held his forward with his head tilted back and his laughter filling the air.

"Sorry, I'll humor you. Oh it's you, which one are you again?" Val cocked a smirk at the merchant.

"Why the most handsome of the two, naturally." The merchant shrugged with a toothy grin as he took a seat next to the smith. "Mind if I take a seat? Good, because I'm taking it anyways." He left little room to argue, but Valcrist wasn't intending to in the first place so it wasn't a big deal. "So, tell me, how do you tell us apart so easily anyways? I mean I have the same face as my brother, the same voice, the same body. We're identical right down to our socks. Which reminds me, I need to get these back to him."

"I dunno honestly. I just see you, and I know who you are." Valcrist shrugged, but the look on his companion's face told him that wasn't good enough. "Well as similar as you two are, you aren't the same person. You moved similarly, but only when you're next to each other and you make an effort to mimic one another. Each of you have your own body language. You have the same outside, but different insides. Different personalities, different likes and dislikes, things that make you act slightly different." He shrugs, not entirely sure how to put it in better words.

"What? I mean... I'm sure that's true and everything but... really? You saying you can tell us apart because of our personalities? I mean I'd understand that if you meant after you talked to us, but you can tell before we even say a word." He looked skeptical, which was well and good.

"Well it's like... Have you ever seen those pictures that is the same two pictures back to back but only with minor changes? Once you spot the changes they become so easy to notice, and you think 'how did I miss this before?' That's kind of what it was like. When I first met you it was different, but by now I can tell you apart easily." Valcrist excelled with details, it was his calling card. He picked up on body language and odd things easily, and the majority of his fighting style was based around this talent. He watched how people moved, how they reacted, and acted accordingly. "Also even though you have the same face, there's a few differences. Your eyebrows are a bit bushier than your brothers, while your brother doesn't trim his fingernails as shortly as you do for example."

"Wow... I don't know whether to be impressed... or to admit you into an asylum because I think you may be insane. How do you waste so much time focusing on such little things?" His grin fell, instead he looked puzzled as puzzled could be. Now it was Valcrist's turn to laugh.

"No, I told you, I just see you and I know who you are. I don't really pay attention to it, I just kind of do it naturally." He was feeling kind of weird about it now, though. He always knew he was good at spotting things, but he never thought he was particularly weird about it. "I guess I just look at thing different then most things. There's a lot of differences in nature, and even two things that look identical are different in ways. Most people when they see a tree they just go 'oh it's another tree' same as everyone they've ever seen before, when I see a tree however I notice just how unique and special it is. Maybe it from drawing things so much..."

Heygus planted his hand on the smith's back suddenly, shocking him and almost knocking him out of the wagon all together. "Don't have to feel weird about it, I'm impressed. I've never had much of an eye for art. You aren't the first person to be able to tell us apart like that, but you just seem to do it so effortlessly. I've just always been kinda curious."

[Valcrist]

"...So then he ate the whole thing!"

"What? No way! With everyone-"

"Everyone watching, yes." Valcrist burst into laughter as Heygus leaned back and basked in the feeling of a good story told. He was telling another one of his wild stories, they always ended up being hilarious in some way.

"Oh come on, you're making that up." Valcrist stuttered in between snorts of laughter. It's kind of hard to relay that the story was funny because it was deliberately just the punchline, but trust me it was hilarious.

"I swear to Elmine I'm telling the truth." He watched the smith crack up with a smug grin on his face, waiting a few moments until the smile began to falter. Just a bit, but some. Now there was something on the merchant's mind, and it'd probably bother him until he said something. "Valcrist, can I ask you something?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Shoot."

"You're good friends with my brother, right?" He asked, innocent as could be.

"Yees?" He couldn't see where this was going to go bad, but he just knew it would.

"Not me though, right?" He cocked his brow with a straight face, a rare thing for Gus. This plus the nature of question simply left Val sort of speechless.

"I... Uh... What are you talking about? We're friends." Wow, talk about a sudden change in tone. A minute ago he was making the smith crack up, and now he was getting kind of sad.

"Yeah, sure, we're friends I know that. Still not like you and Varen." Valcrist gave him a sort of look and the merchant held up his hands as if to stop him before he could even speak. "No, you misunderstand. It's not a bad thing, it's good. I mean, you see me and him as different people. It's not a package deal to you, that's good. We spend so much time being mistaken for one another, it just kind of strange is all." He spoke quickly to try and get the smith to stop being all pity party over there. "I'm fine, and I'm happy my brother has found a good friend in you. You always seem kinda tense when I talk to you, but it's not like that with Varen. I was just wondering what was up is all."

"I'm sorry." Now Valcrist was feeling like a jerk. The truth was he was right. He didn't dislike Heygus in any capacity, but Val found it a little harder to be around him. He was always joking, and teasing him, and seemed a bit callous at times. Not that he was a bad person, but sometimes he would annoy the smith. Or make him a bit upset, he'd still say they were friends and he still liked the brother. It was just... He found it easier to be around Varen.

Gus just held up his hands with a shrug. He had some sort of weird look between a smile and a frown on his face as he chuckled lightly. "That's fine. It's fine, don't worry." He assured the smith, but he was still feeling a bit sore in the pride department. Usually it was the other way around, people liked him more than his brother. It was a bit weird to feel it in reverse. Especially from Valcrist, this guy they traveled with, of all people. Maybe he overdid the teasing a bit? Something to remember about in the future. He stood up from his seat in the back of the caravan and looked over at the smith, walking forward a bit to catch up with the steady pace of the wagon. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small bundle of cloth to give to the smith.

"What's-" He began.

"Varen was telling me how you were feeling homesick earlier. So I remembered I had this. Be careful, it's sharp." So Varen told him about that? Well it was slightly embarrassing, but he could understand it. Still, it made him feel bad. He was willing to talk about that with Varen, but not Heygus. The brother must have picked up on that.

It was a dagger. In a sheath and about eight inches long from the hilt to the tip. It was inside a protective leather case, but from just the design on the pommel and the intricately made leather sheath, he knew instantly what it was. He's held countless of these in his life, and it filled him with nostalgia. He looked at the pommel, and there it was. The maker's mark, almost the same that he used. This was his mother's work. Countless caravans had one of these, she gave them to each caravan that made the trip to visit Koroda. She called it 'seeding' or something. Basically the point was to give it to the caravan for free, so every time they saw it, they would remember Koroda and the smith that made it. A sort of advertising, if you will. They all looked similar, but each knife was unique in its own way.

"Gus I-"

"Don't say anything. You can hold onto it for now. It's the caravan's knife, and you're a part of the caravan now. So it's only fair." He pushed onto his back, letting a soft crack noise into the air, stretching and groaning as he walked with the wagon. "Wow I was sitting longer than I thought. Maybe we should stop soon so that we can stretch." He waved at the smith with two fingers, grinning all the while. "Seeya later Val."

"...Thanks Gus."

[Valcrist]

A few days had passed since that somewhat awkward moment of girly feelings. The smith kept the dagger close to heart, quite literally, having it inside the coat he wore at most times. He had enough blades at his hip as it were, and there was always something to be gained by keeping something secret. There was also the fact that even in it's casing it was very valuable looking and he'd prefer not being the target of pickpockets. Sure they never really succeed, but there was always the chance they might and that would suck. He wanted to keep it safe, not only because of what it was, but because it wasn't his to lose. He was merely borrowing it after all.

Right now Valcrist was training. If there was one thing that these long trips made him feel, it was antsy. When he couldn't train it made him feel all jittery and anxious all day long, it was a weird sort of thing that made sure he was always keeping on his game even when he really didn't feel like it. In his hand was a strange looking blade, it's shape was uncommon but it made it particularly useful against spears which was always a problem for him. It wasn't until he fought Clair that he realized just HOW much they were a problem honestly, that was when he reforged that steel saber he had before into this odd shape. However he was so used to using blades a certain way that when he came against axe users he used to dance around, he found himself at a surprising disadvantage. It was the oddest thing, but he held other blades that helped to make up for such a thing.

"Come on Victor, focus." Valcrist spoke to the mercenary who was tasked to protect him, but somehow found his self sparring against his employer instead. At first the mercenary scoffed and took it easy on the kid, but it became quickly apparent that he didn't even need a mercenary. The soldier held the lance of his in both hands, wearing heavy armor that has been bypass countless times by the smith's incessant skill at striking even around plate mail. He wasn't bleeding, they weren't fighting to kill, but it was distressing how much of an advantage that the Nabatan seemed to have.

"I told you boss, I can focus as much as you'd like and it won't mean jack." The knight replied, surly. His pride been hurt by this boy half his age and half his size. His blade was strange and almost seemed to snake around his lance and snuck around any sort of offensive or defensive stance he took. Originally the Knight just kept trying his hardest to best the swordsman, but by this point he's more or less given up on it. It seemed impossible, Valcrist was just too blindingly fast. The smith wouldn't take no for an answer as he burst from the spot in a flurry of movements that simply were impossible for the knight to follow with his eyes. He moved, he held his shield up, and his lance prepared to strike at the smith when he came around but-

"There, you're dead." He felt a slight pressure at his side as the blade pressed into a chink of his armor.

"Of course." Victor sighed. "How about we stop now. I've died at least twenty times."

Valcrist responded to the sigh with one of his own, sheathing his odd blade. "Fine, fine..." Maybe he should have taken it easy on him? Still, how was he going to improve if he didn't give his all? Letting someone win was a dishonest thing to do as well, and somehow it just felt sort of icky to do. "Thanks for the practice Victor." Valcrist bowed to his opponent. He rolled his eyes and scoffed as he walked away. Well he probably wasn't going to be able to ask for his help later it seems, that's over half of mercenaries now... Maybe he should train alone from now on.

[Valcrist]

((Takes place after this post))

Valcrist had said his goodbyes to Wein, and with a heavy heart he realized what the next thing he had to do was. There was a hard lump in his throat, and it only grew more stubborn the harder he swallowed. He was anxious, worried, but most of all he was... more excited then he had been in months. Why? Was he really doing this? Committing to some... hair-brained plot that will see him dead? Somehow it was the uncertainty that made it more exciting. Did he simply love violence? Valcrist was a timid man, he hated conflict, but at the same time he secretly sort of... loved it. He was good. He was really good. Not always, he wasn't always so skilled, but now. Now was so different. Was he really so weak before? Was he really that boy who couldn't even lift his blade against another man? Was he really that child who ran from every problem, every conflict, from everything? Did he simply just love to fight? Was he no different from that barbarian he met earlier? It was thoughts like this that chilled him to the bone.

Still, his swordplay isn't the same as his smithing. He was always a talented smith, he always believed in his art, believed in his work. His fighting skills, however, he hadn't realized how far he had come until just recently. Such a long, twisting road. One with countless hardships, and immeasurable improvement. He was just a child swinging around a wooden stick only ten years ago, now he was a master of the blade. It was exhilarating seeing how far he has come, but it also worried him. He has seen Yaen. He has seen Kenshin. He has seen Richter. He has seen all of these legends, shadows of their former selves who only seemed happy when they fought. He didn't want to be like that, he didn't want to live for nothing but combat, for fighting. He wanted to be a timid man, being anything else scared him.

He took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. His neurosis getting the better of him. Whatever happened happened, right now he had something important to do. He had to speak to his friends, and he had to tell him what he had chosen to do. "Varen. Heygus." He spoke aloud, somehow in his musing his feet had found their way to the caravan where the twins where trying their best to unload and set it up. They wanted to get done quickly to be sure, all the commotion created from the man in the square meant good business if they could capitalize on it.

"Hey Val." Varen began with a smile and a wave.

"Grab some stuff and help us unload." Heygus finished with a laugh.

Valcrist cracked a grin as he did just that. "You know I'm going to-" The smith said as he grabbed something.

"Yeah." Varen cut him off with a sigh.

"We know." Heygus added with a shrug.

"If you guys want, I can stick around." Valcrist said, cringing as he did. He didn't believe that, but the words just sort of came out on their own accord.

"Come on Val, don't lie to us like that. If you are stupid enough to do something like this, there's not a thing we could say to change your mind." Varen laughed as soon as the words came out. He felt both silly and stupid, but also happy in a way.

"I'm sorry.."

"Don't be sorry, just don't die. You're our favorite smith, if you die it could be the end of Varen and Haygus as we know it." Varen joked, but Valcrist could tell by the look on the twin's face that he was kind of sad. It was strange how much they've become friends, it was a business arrangement at best.

[Valcrist]

After they had finished unloading everything, it was midday. Or afternoon. Or evening. It was hard to tell in Ilia, the sun was so fickle. It was either out all day or barely at all, the sun was out now though and there was still light, so there was more then enough time to sell wares. Which was Varen and Heygus' prerogative, Valcrist simply silently helped them. It had felt a little awkward, knowing this was probably the last time he was going to do this. Maybe even the last time he'll ever see them, hell it might be the last time he'll ever be in Ilia if this goes poorly. He'll rot in a hole in the ground for the rest of time. Or maybe they'll burn his corpse so it can't rise up once more, and because he's a war criminal or whatever. Eeech, sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it. Also the cold didn't help. If it was the last time he was in Ilia, he could live with that.

The three just sort of awkwardly stood there, no one speaking as if they were all waiting for someone else to. The silence was tense, like a frozen lake that desperately needed something to break the thin layer of ice covering it. It was Valcrist's fault, but he had absolutely no idea of what he could say. What could he say? I'm sorry? I've changed my mind? Goodbye? He still had a whole week in town, but it felt like it was the end of everything.

"Val. You don't need to apologize." Heygus said suddenly, as if he could read the smith's mind. The Nabatan frowned, looking sad.

"We're rooting for you, and whatever you do." Varen added with a nod and a grin. "Go murder Kraft, make lots of money, and bring it back here to spend on our wares." He laughed.

"Assuming I make it back." Valcrist replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Well of course you will." Varen patted the smith on the back with a heavy thud, making the smith jerk slightly forward in shock. "In fact..." He began to mutter to himself. Valcrist looked at him with a raised brow and a curious look. "I'm willing to bet on it." He started up with a wild grin.

"What do you mean?"

"Wait here for just a minute..." He took a few steps before turning around and wagging his finger threateningly. "And close your eyes." He added with a crazed looking grin.

Valcrist looked at Heygus was a question on his face, the twin simply shrugged. "You should close your eyes."

So the smith did what he was told and closed his eyes. His ears could pick up the sounds of scuffling, the opening and closing of boxes, and the footsteps of one brother pacing back and forth. What could possibly be going on? Why did Varen have to be so coy about it? After a few moments he heard the footsteps of one of them grow closer, he was about to open his eyes to look but a voice quickly lashed out like a whip. "Keep 'en closed." So he complied with something between a grumble and a laugh. "Hold out your hands." This was getting silly, but he did. Varen shoved something into his hands, wooden and square. A box. It was kind of heavy, but not too much, but it was quite large. "Now open 'em." Varen said with that sort of sound in his voice. You know, that sound people get when they know something you don't, and are about to reveal it to you. That slight pitch change, the smile you can literally hear, it was like giving someone a gift you knew they would love.

Valcrist opened his eyes to see that, yes, it was a box. A familiar looking box, but the smith could place his finger on where he's seen it before. He hesitated for a moment, there was an unlocked lock hanging from the latch. The smith removed it and opened the top... and nearly dropped the box in surprise. "You can't... No Varen. This is too valuable! You said you were gonna sell this for 10000 gold!" He was flabbergasted, because inside was that special little lump of metal. That same one that Varen had shown him before, the metal that was light but also powerful. A dream substance. It was worth thousands of gold, easily, and he was just... giving it to him? No. No, Valcrist couldn't take it.

"It's my bet, on you." He said with a cocky grin. "I'm not giving it to you, I'm investing in you. When you succeed, and I know you will, you can pay me back."

"I..." Valcrist began, but there was no words.

Heygus tapped the smith on the shoulder, and when he turned he gave him a crinkled piece of paper. One that looked like it had been wadded up. It was the design he made for a blade for this metal, something he thought he'd never have the chance to make. "I found this in the wagon when we were unloading it. I think you should keep it." He was just as cocky looking as his twin brother, even now they were identical.

"Thank you. Both of you." Valcrist bowed his head, feeling like a weirdo. Did he seriously just bow? Whatadork.

Varen laughed. "You should get cracking then, shouldn't you? You've got a lot of weapons to make, and only a week to do it."

[Valcrist]

He spread the crumpled piece of parchment down on the table, taking a small round stone to rub at it and smooth it out. The design that laid within was for a blade, but not just any blade. By distributing the weight correctly, and because of the lightness of the metal he was using, he could create a weapon that he could swing faster then any other blade he's ever held. Even his wind sword, which was enchanted with the power of the gales, couldn't compare to the weapon he planned on creating. Still it needed work, especially since it was still kind of crumpled, so he took out his sketchbook once more and began to go to work. It wasn't just his blade he needed to work on, he needed to design Wein's bow. That could wait though, he needed to question Wein on the details of it tomorrow, and honestly he was far too excited to work on anything but this blade of his.

The metal laid there beside him as he furiously sketched away, a goofy looking grin on his face. He hadn't been able to lose it since he got his hands on it. He would be able to forge a completely unique weapon, one that just oozed power but also style. He would put all of his skill as a blacksmith, a swordsman, and an artist to the test in the creation. He would create something he was proud of, something he would feel is worthy to be called a work of art, something that he'll show his mother one day, something that will prove he is a Terris smith.

He knew already what he wanted to name the blade. He gently removed the hilt of his first blade from his pack. Staring at it for a moment. Maybe... Could he? That would be symbolic, to be sure, but would it be useful? Hrm... Something to keep in mind. This was the weapon that got him throughout all of the years of fighting, running, laughing, everything. It was always something he could look at to remember home, it was the first blade he ever forged that he was proud of. In his time it grew aged, chipped, dull, but he never stopped using it. Even when it was inefficient, and he could have just made a better weapon. Even after he received his wind blade, this sword was ever in his hands. Was there any doubt of what he should call this sword? What he should base this blade on?

[Valcrist]

Clank. Clank. Clank. The sounds of a hammer pounding metal filled the forge. Outside the window it was a stark black, not even a moon or stars in the sky. The only light was the flame of the forge and the glowing blade against the anvil. With each drop of the hammer there was a flash of sparks, orange and red, the color of steel given shape. The blade glowed a dull reddish orange, stark against the dark knight. The metal was still misshapen, and only barely the weapon he so desire. It was tough, as he swung down with the heavy mallet, it barely responded to the force of his blows. It was a gradual, slow process. It seemed the blade needed to be heated to a higher temperature then he was used to using, he threw coals into the fire and the flame of the forge grew large and hungry.

Using a long pair of steel prongs he placed the blade into the flame once more. Wiping the swear from his brow he let out a long, tired breath. He worked on the blade at night, it was only fair. He so many other things he needed to work on, the night was the only time he had that was free. Technically he should be asleep, but he could run on a few less hours of sleep if it meant he could have his sword. He rested against the wall for a few minutes, his eyes closed and slowly breathing as the crackling of flames filled his head. After what he deemed was a good amount of time, he pulled the blade out once more and began to temper the blade. Hammering away at the metal with all the strength he could muster, each blow of the hammer filling the air with a resounding 'Clank!' Slowly but surely he shaped the weapon into shape, he beat the metal into a blade, a long sword that despite it's length was as light as a dagger.

He took the super heated blade and plunged it into a bucket of water, a loud hissing filling the air as the water simply evaporated instantly as it touched the super hot metal. A thick cloud of steam erupted from the weapon, it was such a satisfying sound. It was the sound of blacksmithing, the cooling of the metal, the tempering of the steel. It was one of his favorite sounds in the world.

[Valcrist]

The blade has been granted a shape, long and fierce and the color of coal, but he wasn't done. Not yet. The forging was merely half of the job, he needed to work on the rest of the blade and it was just as trying and difficult as hammering away at the steel could be. Once more he worked in the dead of night, the only time he could allow himself to work on such a thing. He had promised Wein he would work on his bow's design, but he couldn't even imagine doing such a thing while thoughts of his blade danced around in his mind. Not that it much mattered, he already had the perfect design for Archer's bow. It made him crack a bit of a grin really, he was sure the archer would love it. It was probably one of the better designs he's made, it was as if working on this blade was giving him energy and creativity rather then draining it out of him. He should have been tired all day, but after a day like the one he had it was impossible to be tired.

The forge's flame once more filled the room with it's warm glow, but it wasn't alone. Valcrist had lit a few candles as well to give him a bit more light. Today it was delicate work, and it needed enough light to properly see what he was doing. He could do it blindfolded, but why do such a thing when you didn't need to? His tongue found it's way poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he intently focused on what he was doing. The blade needed to be fitted, the hilt created, the blade sharpened, the weapon engraved, the whole thing needed to be finished up. His dexterous fingers moved deftly with great celerity, it was like they were moving before he could even think of what he was doing. They had a mind of their own, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Valcrist was nothing if not skilled in his craft, he put all his years of work and training to the test here. He bit his lip as he did the delicate practices, feeling a sort of pride swelling in his chest as everything began to come together.

He took the hilt of his old blade, Fang, and worked it into the design. It was so... different from the first blade he forged, from Fang's original appearance. Fang was a... inferior sword. It hurt his pride to admit, but it wasn't very good. The weight was poorly distributed, it wasn't very solid, it dulled easily, and it was ostentatious to say the least. He made it with nothing but 'style' in mind, and completely ignored the 'use'. It looked like something a nobleman would hang on his wall, not a blade a warrior would take into battle. Still... he was so proud of it when he made it. It was the first thing he ever made that he was proud of. All on his own, without help outside of obtaining the iron. He mixed impurities into the blade, which is pretty much the dumbest thing to ever do, to taint the metal black. He overly designed the blade itself, working on it for... Phew, how long was it? Months? He doodled so many different designs of that blade, it was insane. He couldn't even remember half of them, now that he thought about it. It was hard to do anything but laugh as he went down the mental checklist. Each one worse the then the one before. He romanticized about the 'ultimate sword' that his blade would go down into legends next to the likes of Exaccus and Durandal. It was now that he realized just how misguided he was, but he didn't regret it. He was happy he was. It was that enthusiasm, that childlike wonder and drive, that's what's driven him all this time. In the hard times, in the times he felt like there was no point, he still pushed on because he still had that part inside of him. That childish part where he could always look for the best, always believe in his self even when he felt like he could nothing right.

This blade. Fang. This was the proof. This was the symbol of all his growth. This was him accepting both his childish aspects, his depressing thoughts, his bloodthirsty desires, his want to protect, his cowardice, his courage, his timidity, his pride, his desire for growing better, and his fear of trying. All of his good aspects, all of his bad ones. Nothing is complete without both. Not even a sword.

[Valcrist]

Fang laid there in his hand. Even as he held it, he could scarcely believed that such a thing even existed. He gripped the hilt tightly, as if it was going to fly away if he let go for even a second. Like it was a dream that simply could not be real. Did he really forge this? Was this blade really created by his own hands? It was so light, unrealistically so. It was the lightest blade he's ever held, yet it was also so very sharp. It sliced through the air with absolutely no issue. It would find flesh just as simple. He held it in both hands, closing his eyes and simply feeling his hands on the hilt. The snow blazed around him, the night air frigid to the bone, but he didn't care. The winds whipped up at him, sending his scarf flailing in a vain attempt to ride the night gales. Nothing mattered though, right now nothing mattered but the blade in his hands. The black steel glimmered in the light of the moon, and the golden guard about it showed a strange beauty.

He moved, his steps fast and without mercy. He swung the blade, it sung as it cut through the night air, slicing cleanly through the wood of the dummy set atop its post. The arrow hole ridden training tool clattered into the snow below, but before it could even hit the ground Valcrist struck once more, slicing it in two as it fell as if in slow motion. This blade was so fast, faster then any he's ever held before. He turned to the next dummy, a smirk on his face as his chest filled with a sort of giddy delight as he manically sliced the wooden false human. He chopped it into bits in the blink of an eyes, his arms moving at speeds that he never thought possible. It was like there wasn't even a blade in his hand, that it was an extension of his body, he swung it as naturally as he breathed.

Valcrist moved again, not satisfied, he couldn't believe it. This was surreal, something was going to come and just ruin it wasn't it? Some sort of... problem, or issue. It'll shatter when he hits this dummy, or it'll slip from his hands, or it'll grow duller then a bar of iron after two swings, or anything. It was simply too good to be true. While the blade itself was not as powerful as, say, a silver greatsword, it was still incredibly powerful. What was the most important detail was how fast it was. He could swing it twice as quickly then even his wind sword, and that was a feat indeed. The speed it moved combined with the speed Valcrist did, he could completely filet a man before he even realized what had happened!

He stopped as he looked back upon what he had done. All of the dummies, all of them where sliced into small pieces as they littered the ground. He could only smirk.

Theeen he realized what he just did. "Oh crap!" How was he gonna clear up this mess? He'd have to pay for this wouldn't he? He smacked his open palm on his forehead, oh Valcrist you're so stupid sometimes. Still... He looked at his blade once more. He looked at Fang. It was, truly, a grand blade.

=Thread Over=