[LSB] Chapter 109: I'm Supposed to be a Blacksmith

“Such craftsmanship, such amazing edge.”

“Oh! It turns into daggers!”

“If you place it on the ground and not look at it, it looks like it is not there at all!”

Half an hour after making contact with the isolated gnarfolk camp, Julian and the party were now inside the tent of the young gnarfolk commander, who introduced himself as Zoan. 

But even after half an hour, the only thing they had done was sit on the ground. The cushions beneath them had already molded to the shapes of their buttocks, and yet they still hadn’t had a proper conversation due to the other gnarfolks entering and leaving the tent to check on Julian and Searadyn’s Veil.

One of them even waved it around, shifting its form into different weapons.

But none could hold it for long.

Searadyn’s Veil had been forged by Julian, made solely for his own hand. The Avatar of Searadyn ensured that any outsider who dared wield it would feel the slow, creeping burn of ice gnawing at their flesh—such was the power of a spirit.

Still, that wasn’t an issue for the gnarfolks at all as they snatched or passed the weapon to the next person in excitement. Julian also didn’t seem to mind, however, and a rare smile even crawled on his face as he saw how his weapon was being appreciated.

After a few more curious hands brushed against the translucent weapon, Zoan suddenly snapped his tail against the ground. The sharp sound cut through the air, and his men immediately froze, standing up straighter as if jolted to attention.

A brief silence passed between them before the Gnarfolk holding Searadyn’s Veil finally returned it to Julian.

Then, as one, they turned to face him—hunching their backs and flattening their stomachs.

As Cyrus had explained before, this was a gesture of submission and respect among the Gnarfolk.

Julian bowed in return, slowly hunching his back.

The Gnarfolk gasped and hissed in surprise before mirroring his gesture, their backs hunching once more—this time, with smiles on their faces. Then, one by one, they began to push their way out of the tent.

However, those who had not yet had the chance to admire Searadyn’s Veil left with their heads lowered in disappointment.

Julian noticed this and immediately stood up.

The Gnarfolk froze mid-step, their eyes fixed on him as he approached.

Then, he spoke.

And the words that left his lips made them all gasp in shock.

“You can borrow it for now,” Julian said as he split the Searadyn’s Veil into its twin dagger form, spinning it around his hands before handing it to two people, “But please return it to me when we leave.”

“Oh…” The gnarfolks were too stunned to speak. They looked at each other, and smiles quickly crawled on their faces as they ran outside like excited children playing with their brand-new toy.

Cyrus did mention that these gnarfolks were young, and maybe not even adults. It was quite hard to tell due to their large builds and mature faces, even Zoan had a thick mustache. But perhaps they really were just young gnarfolks. Teenagers, perhaps?

Julian tilted his head slightly as he listened to the gnarfolks outside, giggling as they passed Searadyn’s Veil from one person to the next.

“I apologize for the actions of my men.” Zoan sighed, the tip of his tail subtly wagging, “We have traveled far and have not slept in our beds for a long time—a smith of your caliber, the champion of the hyums. Your presence, it is a much needed break for us.”

“I’m not the champion of hyums,” Julian hummed as he returned to his seat on the floor.

“Your emblem said otherwise, Master Julian.”

“That was only given to me by the people from the Tower of Forge. They made me a champion.”

“Then that makes you the champion of the hyums, Master Julian,” Zoan nodded to himself while caressing his mustache, “Hyums are useless, weak. Only those who follow the way of the iron are worthy—and you, Master Julian, create the iron and give it life—my father was a master smith too and a better warrior than all, but I am afraid… he has lost his way.”

“Your father?”

“Let us not talk about it, my affairs are the affairs of a child,” Zoan bowed his head and waved his tail, “Now that we have the chance to talk, Master. Please, tell me about this quest of yours and how we could aid in fulfilling the Lady Artemis’ will.”

“Hmm.” Julian made himself comfortable before pulling out a tiny piece of coal from the shadows, a shard of the coal that served as the grave of the Avatar of Helionis. He placed it on his palm first to look at it before handing it to Zoan, and the shard looked like a tooth on his large hands.

Zoan examined it without saying anything, and it was only when he sniffed it that he looked back to Julian and said,

“I smell the frozen tundras of Dodona from this. Is there anything special from this?” Zoan placed the piece of coal in front of his face and whispered, “Guidance.”

His eyes narrowed, and a look of confusion crawled on his face.

“And I would be right, it is from Dodona. But there is nothing special about it—is Dodona where you need to go, Master Julian?”

“We don’t know yet,” Julian sighed as he also summoned the Guidance of Artemis, looking at the Bridge quest and the information provided, “The quest only says to visit the land of the Gnarfolks, so we’re heading to Dodona since that’s our first clue.”

“Head to our land?” Zoan returned the shard to Julian, his tail wagging as he once again brushed his mustache, “But Dodona is not the land of anyone, I am aware that my kind live in its borders, but it is not gnarfolk territory. It is too far west, too cold, and too close to water and land of ice.”

“That’s… what we said too.”

Zoan let out a long and deep breath, his tail once again wagging before he lightly chuckled, “The Lady Artemis has always been vague with her requests, who are we to question her ways. Only those people from the Order of Artemia seek to corrupt her words.”

There was a certain pang in Zoan’s last words. His tail also stopped moving when he mentioned the Order. But after a few moments, Zoan let out a tiny gasp as he looked back to Julian.

“Forgive me, Master Julian. I did not take into ponder that you might follow them.”

"No."

A long hum escaped Julian’s lips as he recalled the time he had been tied up by them.

"I try to avoid them as much as possible. They’re just too... intense whenever I run into them."

There was also the fact that Julian wasn’t of Artemia, a so-called evil spirit, and the sole reason for the Order of Artemia’s existence. But of course, he wasn’t going to say that.

Zoan narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face. And with a sudden thump, his tail struck the ground before lifting to point directly at Julian.

“Ha!” He hollered, “I can just tell from your words, Master Julian, that you do not like them too! Truly, a blacksmith of your caliber and renown would not be fooled by their flowery words… unlike my father, who has been corrupted by them. His tail is cut.”

“Your father?”

“Forgive me for not revealing my identity to you sooner, Master Julian…” Zoan’s tail swayed in front of him, “...my father is Zoran of Zerschanvil, one of the five chiefs of Drakhelm. I must say that it is the Lady Artemis’ will that we meet here, of all places and of all times—it must mean that I am on the right path. It must also mean that it is fate that I would know of your quest, and you would know of mine—perhaps I can employ some of your time to tell you about my affairs?”

Julian did not really know what to respond to that but, “Okay.”

“Much appreciated, Master Julian.” A deep breath escaped Zoran’s lips as he brushed his horns with his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment before standing up and walking to the table to look at some documents,

“I assume you are aware of the Shield Saint’s expedition in our lands, Master Julian?”

“I guess. They mentioned it to me back on Piathus, but I don’t really know much about them.”

Zoran once again let out a long and deep sigh as he lightly pushed the documents on the table. “The Shield Saint is a direct emissary of the leader of the Order, he said so when he delivered words to us. Words of poison, and my father is inflicted with it. The Order of Artemia twists the words of Her most high, the Forger of the Artemia herself, for their own gain. They are vile and suspicious—do you know that Zerschanvil was the first tribe they approached? They came by sea and traveled by foot. Why? Why would they start their expedition at the farthest tribe from your territory? Was it because they know that my father would be easily swayed by their poison? It… I apologize, I am rambling.”

“Hmm.”

“But their poison has no effect on me. I left as soon as I could the moment their words echoed from my father’s lips. My men and I traversed the violent sea to warn the other tribes before the Order’s wretched tongue could cut their tails.”

“You and your men…” Julian looked at Zoan’s unblemished armor and his bladed claw gauntlets resting at the table, “...You’re children.”

“I will take no offense with that,” Zoan wryly chuckled, “I admit that we are young, none of us past level fifty—but at least we are not bewildered. The gnarfolks will not suffer the idiocy that has befallen the hyums—the Lady Artemis only speaks through one voice, and that is with her Guidance. No religion, no church, no order could refute that.”

“Hmm.”

“The hyums pollute the words of the Lady Artemis, and the Eldazens destroy her land. If only we had won the Great War, then all of this would be—I apologize for speaking ill of your kind, Master Julian. Once again, my anger fails.”

It would seem that everything Julian knew about the gnarfolks was wrong, or perhaps history has made them less than what they are because they lost the Great War. The only true thing that Julian had heard that seemed to be true was their deep hatred for the other races, but even that seemed to have a good reason why.

But once again, the only thing Julian could say was,

“Okay.”

“My anger has merit, Master Julian. Because the Order of Artemia is doing more than pollute Her words, they are using Her—they are using the Lady Artemis’ words as an excuse to start another war. A war that both my kind and yours will not survive.”

Zoan picked up a piece of paper from the table. His eyes, trembling at the sight of it.

“I overheard it when they were speaking to my father. First, they speak ill of these people they call the Evil Spirits. They say they are beings not of this world, and that they must be eradicated before they taint our land—preposterous. How can your kind even believe such stories, Master Julian? Last I have heard, almost half of your people have fallen for their words—a dubious organization that is almost as young as I am. It is—I apologize for rambling again. Where was I?”

“Evil spirits.”

“Ah, yes…” Zoan cleared his throat, “...First they tell stories about how we should eradicate them—and then, they tell us that the Lady Artemis also wishes for us to spread their words to the Eldazen, and if they do not listen, we should resort to force. Do you know what it means for gnarfolk tail to land on Eldazen territory with the intent of force, Master Julian?”

“No.”

“It is war,” Zoan whispered deep as he slightly crumpled the paper in his hand, “To battle against the Eldazens now is self-slaughter. They have ships now that could traverse the sky, powered by their sorcery. They yield weapons that even children could use. Do you wish to know the worst part of this, Master Julian?”

“Hmm?”

Zoan approached Julian, handing him the piece of paper that he almost crumbled into oblivion.

“The worst part of this all is that my father volunteered to take charge.”

“Hmm.”

Julian hummed as he looked at the contents of the document. But there really was only one thing in his mind.

He only wanted to make weapons. Why was he being involved in something grand again?

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AUTHOR NOTES

I am sorry, Julian. Before you are a blacksmith, you are the main character. And such is the fate of main characters.