Chapter 179 - 176 - Secret History I
Inquisitor's note: what follows is the journal of a man claiming to be a Historian and Time Mage. It has been posthumously titled The Fly on the Wall's Journal and has been added to the Index of Forbidden Texts, to be destroyed on finding.
As my Skills improved and my Class levels increased, I found myself able to project my observer's point of view further and further into the past. One century, two, and so forth until finally I had the capacity to view the Legendary Battle Against the Demons at Cordova.
Thank goodness I decided to hold off until I was certain I had the capacity to view it in full. I can only lament that my [Perfect Recall] Skill wasn't as developed as it could have been, and so some of the details have faded from my recollection.
Thus, when I came back to myself, I wrote notes like a madman.
But they fail to capture everything.
The only time the past has ever managed to interact with me directly through my Skill [Fly on the Wall] remains when I tried to peak in on the Itinerant Baker. She scolded me quite thoroughly about the dangers of Time Travel, although I still maintain that my form of Time Travel is not harmful. Certainly not compared to ripping open a portal through time just to lecture me!
I will say, however, that the Baker's creations were both amazing and amazingly delicious.
I just hope that poor Enchanter woman wasn't too traumatized by the event.
In any case, that was the only time the past managed to interact with me directly.
But the Legendary Smith…
He was something else.
My Skill activated as normal, and being a higher level at this point, should have been completely undetectable. It was merely the tiniest warp in the weave of space and time, a minute little gap through which I could peak and view the past without interference.
But the Smith spotted me instantly. He immediately looked up from his worktable, hammer frozen in the air, and he gazed directly into my eyes. For a moment, he narrowed his eyes and his brow furrowed, as though he intended to say or do something, before he snorted and returned to his work. From that point on, he either ignored me deliberately or lost track of me. Or perhaps I merely imagined it, and my point of view happened to form where he was about to look anyway.
It gave me the chills, though.
I gazed around the Smith's workshop, and to be honest, I couldn't tell you what what I saw actually was.
I recognized anvils, tool racks, work tables, and some of the enchanting gear.
Other things were totally foreign to me.
I reckon some of them must have been specialized forges. But there was a wooden frame, incredibly heavily enchanted, that contained what seemed to be a plane of darkness? There was another like it, containing a plane of light, but it was thicker, and as I watched the light flickered out, and revealed a pair of earrings.
An enchanter friend shed some light on this for me later. Apparently, most Enchanters use something called Aqua Magia for their enchanting, but there is also Flamma Magia, Terra Magia, Luxia Magia, Noxia Magia, and Aero Magia. None of them are particularly useful, however, so nobody bothers with them when Aqua Magia will do.
To be sure, the Smith had and did use Aqua Magia.
I'm not really sure what he was doing.
I watched him for several hours as he mainly enchanted accessories sized for children. Off to the side was his Legendary Mythril Armor, standing open on a rack like an Iron Maiden almost, but obviously way more comfortable on the inside. Definitely padded, and all the padding was enchanted as well.
I'm sure it would have been fascinating if I was a Smith or Enchanter or Leatherworker.
The Smith, it turns out, did wear an apron while he forged! The room wasn't particularly hot, but the magic was intense as most of the equipment was heavily enchanted. He even wore leather gloves, and safety glasses! His golden-blonde hair was cut short, and he had a short beard covering his jaw.
He wasn't built like the statues though.
The statues have him standing all slender and tall, although clearly well-muscled, you know?
The real Smith was way more muscley. Like, way more. He wasn't short, either, but with how thick he was, he looked short. Or maybe it was my perspective. There were also scars on his face, which was interesting since the legends say the Elixir removed all his scars? Did he get them after the Elixir?
He looked up suddenly, and raised a hand. "Just ignore it," he said, and I turned my perspective and saw the Enchantress, her hand on a knife.
The Enchantress, now her? The statues don't do her justice. Simply gorgeous woman, a true beauty. Even with fresh bloodstains on her leathers, and knives strapped everywhere, and the rather dumpy looking Bag of Holding slung casually over her shoulder.
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She shrugged, and tossed the Bag to the Smith, and he caught it with one hand. "Any trouble with the Vault?"
"Of course not, dear." Her grin sent a shiver down my spine. She was a very intense woman. The Smith didn't ask any further questions, but I can only speculate that whoever got between the Enchantress and the Vault was, uh, probably dead.
The Smith reached into the bag and withdrew two magic stones, golden white in color. He grunted. "Oh? Two eh?" Then he stuck his hand in again and rummaged around, withdrawing a shining golden-white claw almost as long as his forearm. He reached in one more time, grunted again, withdrew nothing, and then tossed the Bag back to his wife. "Yeh can put that back."
"Why?" The Enchantress looked at him quizzically.
The Smith paused a moment. "Eh, good point. You can keep it then, I got my box already."
"Good!" the Enchantress beamed. "I'm going to run some errands, then. How much more time do you need?"
"Few more hours, I reckon."
She pouted. "And you couldn't spare a few more hours after that for my own armor?"
The Smith looked up and gave her a stern look. "And who would watch the kids?"
Now the Enchantress frowned. "It just feels unfair that you get to have all the fun."
"Oh Isabella, my dear sweet Isabella." The Smith stepped around his work table and swept his wife into an embrace. "I'm sure you would have a grand time of things, if they didn't have that Class Canceling Blessing. Trust me, fighting without a Combat Class is a lot less fun than you might imagine. Besides…" He trailed off and kissed the pouting woman. "You're the only one I trust to protect our children. Take the beacon amulet and, when you're done with your errands, go with your family and make for Corto, as fast as you can. I'll catch up when I'm done here."
The Enchantress sighed, and then kissed the Smith back. "And from there?"
"Use your best judgment. That's what the amulet is for, so I can find you no matter where you go."
So then the Enchantress left and the Smith started doing some enchanting, I think. I'd never seen enchanting the way he did it, though. He was using all kinds of weird devices to prepare the magic stones and the claw, which he turned into some kind of paste, and then he painted it into the etched enchantments, used some more devices, and then repeated the process several times.
Each time he did, the shield and greaves he was working on seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on reality, until they matched the weight of the rest of the set of armor.
Which he then set about enchanting even further, I think. There was a lot of flashing light and whirling air.
After that he walked in and out of his workshop and into various storerooms. The Enchantress returned, bundled up two sleeping infants, and said her goodbyes to the Smith with the Bag of Holding tied on her hip.
I suspect she didn't intend to ever return the Bag of Holding, which would explain why it vanished from the historical record for another hundred years after the Battle at Cordova.
I'll have to remind myself to investigate that later.
The Smith, done crafting, then spent nearly an hour storing everything in his workshop into a Spatial Storage Box incorporated into his armor. The room was bare when he was done. I had thought that his magic power batteries were in his workshop, but apparently not. He entered the armor, which closed itself around him, and then he stood up off the armor rack and set out for the Royal Castle.
My perspective followed him, and nobody else showed any signs of noticing.
Not even the Tower Wizard seemed to notice, when we got to the upper throne room.
It was still dark outside, and the mood in the room was grim.
The Demon Army had spent the previous day killing all the Cordovan Army and was camped out on the Plains below.
The Smith barged right in, in the middle of the Aspirant Knight giving a report about how he escaped.
The King was actually sitting on his throne, dozing off. The Princess was sitting in a comfortable chair next to him, with a small side table bearing a tea service and trays of pastries, looking nervous and even a little haggard. I think she might have flinched when the Smith entered the room, and I definitely saw her hands move towards the knives on her hips. The Crown Prince was standing with the generals and advisors, listening to the Knight's report, and the Tower Wizard was smoking a pipe over by a table covered in maps.
It was cool, the smoke was staying in a perfectly contained spherical space above his head, not spreading anywhere else.
He was wearing blue robes embroidered with shooting stars, and he wore gold-rimmed spectacles that sat perched on his large nose. Thick bushy eyebrows and a long, straight, silver beard framed his face, and he also wore a large blue wizard's hat. One hand held his pipe to his mouth, and the other was pinned behind his back as he leaned over and looked at the maps, a wand held within.
He straightened up when the Smith entered.
In terms of sheer presence, the Tower Wizard and the Smith in his Legendary Armor Set were evenly matched.
The Royal Family was faded parchment in comparison, to say nothing of the generals and Aspirant Knight.
"Oh, Smith, you've decided to act," the Tower Wizard said, and everyone else froze and turned to look at the Smith.
The Smith took off his helmet so that everyone could see his face, and he nodded. "I just finished preparing. And you?"
The Tower Wizard shook his head slowly. "No, like the other Irregulars, I've decided on neutrality."
The Smith spat on the floor of the throne room in disgust. "Useless club of weirdos."
The Tower Wizard said nothing in response, and the Crown Prince cut in.
"Hey!"
The Smith ignored him, and turned and walked towards the Princess. She flinched as he drew closer. He stood tall and looked down at her where she sat. "I'm heading out to battle. This is it, got it?"
He spoke surprisingly rudely to his patron.
She merely nodded, and her voice quavered slightly as she spoke. "G-go forth, and I will see you duly rewarded when you return."
"Hey! Insolent Smith!" The Crown Prince shouted, and the Smith shot him a glare before slamming his helmet onto his head. Ignoring further protests, the Smith got a running start and launched himself into the air from the balcony, wrapping himself in light as dawn's first rays broke, and dragging my point of view along with him as he flew down to the Demon Army's front lines.