Chapter 60: Fusing Focus Crystals
Garbed in a long sleeved tunic that parted at the chest, the ropes hanging loosely like vines from his neck, Kaelor walked through the bustling town street. His sleeves had been folded to the elbows, revealing firm forearms traced with faint lines of strength, and the hem of his tunic was tucked neatly into snug black pants that flexed with every step he took.
This time around, the townsfolk, busy raising timber frames and packing clay for bricks, paused mid-motion. Hammers stilled. Voices hushed. And then, almost as one, they bowed. Not because of fear, but reverence. For Kaelor had changed. His long hair, once wild like a lion’s mane, had been trimmed short by Mildred’s careful hand. The cut revealed a face of sharpened grace, clean, angled cheekbones, lashes like golden strokes of sunlight, and eyes that held peace. His aura had thickened, drawn taut like a bowstring. Ignis, his flaming longsword, was slung across his back, its blade bare, catching glints of morning sun like a whisper of flame.
He returned their greetings with only a subtle nod and continued on, his boots crunching against the dirt path. As he neared the forge, a place where bellows roared and sparks flew, he paused. The flames within danced, casting long shadows of the smith hammering away. Kaelor studied the fire, the rhythm of metal against metal, as if pondering something.
What was Vulcanus smelting? Or more importantly, where did he get the ore?
Then he moved on, passing through the great gate guarded by two Guardsmen. The guards snapped into a bow as he crossed into the outer town, a region more than three times the size of the inner keep. A sprawl of fertile land, several faces, and endless labour stretched out before him.
It was there that he noticed a small commotion. Farmers were dragging Vi, visibly reluctant, toward the farmlands. The girl resisted like a cat being pulled toward water. Then her eyes found him.
"Lord Kaelor! Thank goodness you came out," Vi called, breaking free and hastening toward him. Her voice was laced with relief. "There’s a problem with the farm. It hasn’t rained in days, the well’s running dry, and nearly two thousand people plus the crops need more than it can offer."
She reached him, slightly out of breath, but her urgency was mixed with mischief. To put it plainly, she wasn’t just reporting a crisis, she was also fleeing one.
Kaelor stepped toward her in turn, their paths converging. Her large, stormy-blue eyes pleaded subtly, as though trying to draw sympathy while shifting responsibility. It made him chuckle inwardly.
"My Lord!" came a sterner voice, Elsa, flanked by several farmers. The group bowed low, their faces marked by sun, sweat, and concern.