[LSB] Chapter 104: The Spirits of the Tower of Forge

“That’s… the mark of the spirit of Searadyn!”

As much as Julian tried to hide the mark on Earth, the convenience it brought him on Artemia was undeniable. It had spared him from imprisonment and execution at the hands of the Order of Artemia while he was already behind bars, and later, it had allowed him to bypass all the bureaucratic nonsense at the Tower of Forge.

It was incredibly convenient, and it should also work now. Or… at least that was what Julian wanted to think—the only problem now was that there was a person claiming that it was fake.

“That’s fake!” She said while her finger was violently pointed at Julian, “The Tower of Forge even threw him out!”

“For the last time, we weren’t thrown out.” Juliet pushed Keena’s finger away, and since she was a little drunk, she put more force than she intended. Keena, of course, wasn’t going to just let that pass as she immediately screamed in pain, also more than she should have.

She pointed at Juliet this time, her face in complete anguish as she screamed, “See what she did! Don’t believe anything they say! That guy they’re with is known for being an evil spirit!”

Cyrus, who gave this opening for Keena to use, only stared at her with a smile on his face. Whether it was the alcohol or not, he wasn’t threatened at all even with the presence of soldiers from the Order of Artemia.

In fact, he was even escalating the situation by smirking at her.

As for the people watching the commotion, well, they were the same as Cyrus, some of them even got too close to the people from the Order while pointing at Cyrus and mockingly copying Keena.

Meanwhile, Julian still had his fist up and showed the mark to the soldiers of the Order of Artemia without a change in emotion. It was only when one of the soldiers leaned closer that he finally spoke up and said,

“If you wish to see the avatar, I could show you. But that would extinguish all the torches and candles inside the tavern and it’ll be too dark to see.” Julian lowered his hand as he looked around, “The last thing I want is for the people here to live in darkness.”

The soldiers of the Order exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves as they debated their next move. But just as one of them was about to speak, Keena's voice rang out once more, cutting through their hesitation.

“It’s magic! You can’t actually think he has a spirit… and two of them!? You can’t seriously believe that! He—”

“Man…” Cyrus also finally spoke up as he moved behind the bar, patting the bartender on the back as he leaned over the counter and casually gestured to Keena, “...Just one single glance and I know you’ve never been hit as a child by anyone. You yap a little too much without proof.”

“Do you see the way he talks!?” Keena gasped, “That’s evil spirit language!”

“Everyone talks like this nowadays. Ain’t that right, my boys and girls!?” Cyrus stretched both his hands in the air, and as he did so, all the patrons of the bar roared and cheered. The people from the Order started to back away when they finally realized that the entire tavern was in the holds of the man behind that bar.

Just as the soldiers were weighing their options, debating whether to call for reinforcements, one of them abruptly stepped forward. The female soldier fixed her gaze on Julian’s face, studying him intently. She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as if searching for something—and then, suddenly, she gasped.

“It’s him!” She hollered and waved at her comrades, “He’s the one bishop Lagan spoke about!”

The other soldiers from the order looked at each other before looking back and forth between Julian and their comrade.

“Are you sure?” They all asked in unison, and the woman immediately nodded several times.

“I’m sure!” She said, her voice even higher now as she stared at Julian, “The description matches, and I also saw the sketch that they did of him! He’s said to have bright, beautiful blue eyes, a sharp jaw, wide shoulders, thick arms, tall, slightly tan, and handsome! But most importantly, he does have the mark! Who else could it be!”

“Hmm. It’s true that the man is good-looking.”

The other soldiers from the order started nodding their heads in agreement, and of course, Keena did not like that at all.

“They’re fooling you! How can—”

This time, however, Cyrus immediately cut her off by pointing at her and saying, “I heard evil spirits like to accuse other people of being evil spirits. Why don’t you fine men and women test her instead?”

“That’s right!” “Test her!” “She might be the evil spirit!”

“What the…” Keena couldn’t help but step back as the entire tavern started pointing their fingers at her. She quickly looked at the people from the order to try and plead her case, but their eyes were already narrowed at her, filled with suspicion and annoyance. One of them even scoffed and pointed his sword at her and sad,

“You know… she has been trying to tell us how to do our jobs since earlier. What’s your name and where do you live?”

The other soldiers soon changed the direction of their swords toward her. But before anything could actually happen, Juliet placed her arm over Keena’s shoulder, letting out a sigh so loud the entire tavern heard it.

“Don’t. She’s not an evil spirit, I grew up with her,” Juliet wagged her finger at the people from the order, “She’s just a bitch, that’s all…and she’s leaving.”

“Wh—” Keena was going to say something, but Juliet gripped her shoulder tight and whispered,

“I’d suggest you leave, woman. I’m merciful, but I think my boss’ friend is one of the wealthiest people in the country, and he would make sure you can never walk on Artemia again if he wanted to.”

Keena bit her lip and lowered her head when she heard that. And after a few seconds of silence, she turned around and left without another word. Some people even jeered and laughed at her on her way out.

“Well, now that’s done…” Cyrus clapped his hands as he looked at the people from the order, “...What can we get you, fine folks?”

“Him.” The female soldier's voice carried both shock and certainty as she pointed directly at Julian. “The Order has been searching for you ever since you were taken by the evil spirits. We feared you had already been killed, and Bishop Lagan has been punishing himself ever since. The men responsible for imprisoning you have also faced consequences.” She took a step closer, her expression shifting from disbelief to urgency. “Please… will you come with us?”

The woman from the order sounded sincere, and her companions also sheathed their weapons and bowed their heads at Julian, apologizing for even pointing their weapons at him.

Julian looked at them for a few seconds before shaking his head and saying,

“I’m afraid I still have business in this city. I’m also leaving for Gnarfolk territory after I’m done here.”

The people from the order looked at each other again, shaking their heads and stepping forward. They weren’t holding their weapons, but the way they looked at Julian was even more aggressive than earlier.

“We insist,” they all said in unison. It wasn’t only their words that were in synced, the way they moved and batted their eyes were also the same… completely the same. 

“The order would benefit if we have someone like you in our faith. People who can tame spirits are the purest of us all. Together, with the Shield Saint, the order would finally be able to rise to new heights and finally open the bridge.”

The voices of the Order members blended together in perfect unison, their eerie synchronization sending a hush through the tavern. Even the rowdiest patrons quieted, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

Julian remained still, his expression unreadable—but the slightest twitch in his eyes betrayed his reaction to a particular word: bridge. Was that related to his quest?

And they weren’t finished.

As if moving to an unheard command, the Order members stepped forward again—each movement perfectly in sync.

Before they could take their second step, however, the light within the tavern suddenly turned harsher.

A ball of flames burst forth from Julian’s side, a white-orange fire that felt like it was going to consume everything its light touched.

And soon, this ball of flame roared and spoke,

“Artemia does not appreciate you harassing its chosen. Leave now, or forever earn the wrath of Artemis.”

With that single line, the ball of flame disappeared as soon as it appeared.

And with that single line, the people from the Order of Artemia snapped out of their unison and started shaking their heads. They all stared at Julian for a few seconds before bowing their heads and backing away. Only one of them was not back to normal, it was the woman who recognized him.

“We apologize if we have offended you, Lord Julian,” she said, her tone more respectful than before, “We forgot ourselves due to our excitement—we have many people in Gnarfolk territory doing the goddess’ work, and the Shield Saint is also there leading the crusade. I know that your paths will cross, those who carry spirits often do. Farewell, and once again, we apologize if we have offended you.”

And with that, the members of the Order turned and left the tavern, their synchronized footsteps fading into the night.

The silence they left behind, however, clung to the air like a thick fog—uneasy, unshaken. It wasn’t until Cyrus clapped his hands together, breaking the tension, that the tavern finally exhaled.

"Alright! Enough of that creepy cult nonsense—drinks are still free ‘til midnight!"

A cheer erupted, and just like that, the mood shifted once more, the promise of alcohol quickly drowning out whatever unease the Order had left behind.

Juliet wanted to return to the Tower of Forge, but Julian said they should stay for a while and let the alcohol in her body subside before they returned. They spent another hour there, and once Cyrus and Juliet had their wits completely back to them, they returned to the Tower of Forge… only to meet the guild master of the entire Blacksmith Guild of Artemia, who did not waste time at all and introduced himself as—

“Negan. Negan Piathus.”

The guild master was pale—unnervingly so. He lacked the burly physique one might expect from someone of his stature, and his face was completely devoid of hair. Not even a single eyebrow lined his wrinkled expressionless face.

Negan, as he introduced himself, paused briefly after speaking. But when Julian remained silent, unfazed, the guild master simply let out a tired sigh and nodded before turning on his heel.

"Follow me."

That was all he said before marching forward, his pace brisk, almost impatient.

Julian noted how Negan would glance back every so often, checking if they were keeping up. There was no idle chatter, no attempt to gauge Julian’s thoughts—just a quiet urgency that grew more apparent with every step.

They ascended the stairs in silence, and soon, they reached the highest floor of the tower. Unlike the lower levels, which had been divided into various chambers, the topmost floor was a single, vast circular hall.

As soon as Julian stepped inside, the air shifted. Three flames, positioned in a perfect triangle around the room, flickered in unison.

Flame spirits.

Negan’s sharp gaze immediately locked onto the dancing flames, his narrowed eyes flickering with unreadable thoughts. Yet, even as he observed the spirits, he didn’t slow his pace.

Instead, he continued walking toward the center of the hall—his attention now wholly fixated on Julian.

“I was told that the Avatar of Searadyn detected these three spirits,” he said as he faced Julian. And like how he introduced himself, his words were fast and hurried, “I have tamed all of them, but I allow the entire Tower of Forge to use them. I was also told that you have another spirit with you?”

“Yes,” Julian hummed. His head tilted to the side as he listened to the songs of the flame spirit that powered the Tower of Forge, and from the sound of their hymn, they were—

“Happy,” Julian whispered, “These spirits are very happy to be here.”

“Thank you for saying that,” Negan nodded, “But I did not bring you here to tell me something I already know. I brought you here for this.”

Negan stepped aside, revealing a piece of wood resting atop a pedestal at the center of the circular hall. It was positioned directly between the flame spirits, as if under their silent watch.

Thin wisps of smoke curled from its surface, rising lazily into the air. Yet, strangely, the wood wasn’t burning. Not a single ember flickered across its grain, no charred edges, no telltale glow of heat—just smoke, lingering as if caught in some unnatural limbo.

“The Avatar of Searadyn was wrong, however,” Negan whispered as he looked at the wood, his eyes filled with a gentleness so obvious that even Julian could see it,

“There are four spirits inside the Tower of Forge. The oldest of them, the Avatar of Phus, the Growing Flame. I want you to try and wake him up… only then will I grant you your license, Julian Winters.”

Upon hearing those words, Juliet, who had been quietly standing behind Julian all this time, quickly raised her voice, “What kind of condition is that!?”

Negan showed no sign of concern, merely raising a hand to signal his men to stand down. His expression remained unreadable, composed—perhaps even resigned.

Then, without hesitation, he stepped toward Julian.

And kneeled.

The hall, already silent, felt like it had been stripped of sound entirely. The flickering flames cast long shadows over the polished stone floor, their light reflecting off the sweat forming on the brows of the guild members who stood watching.

“Please,” he whispered, 

“If you manage to wake him up again, the Tower of Forge will grant him to you.”

[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]

AUTHOR NOTES

Ah, Negan Grimes.