#auden.lysara

[alrikhart]

@ars-gratia-auden location: Silverlands, Lysara notes: meeting time!

Alrik sat hunched over a weathered makeshift table as the fading winter sun prepared to dim over the horizon. The silver trees of the aptly named Silverlands shimmered overhead, their shadows moving across his back as Alrik held the piece of whittled fruit in the light. His knife, edge for rune carving moved with some intuitive precious along the curve of the skin.

Rune carving was a precise art; for the witch, it began when he was still just a young boy at the side of his father's forge. Iskaran symbols for valor and bravery, for resilience and protection. It wasn't magic, it simply was, and belief was strong enough to make up for where everything else lacked. In the ridges of Ymir's Spine the young witch continued his practice as he trained beside his sister, in the long march from Iskaldrik to Lysara, Froy taught him some of what the druids inherently knew. At Fharzai's side, he wandered from stone to stone, dreaming Beowulf's dream until he began to see the path ahead of him.

As precise as rune carving need be, a stone was more forgiving to force.

There was a sigh as the delicate skin of the fruit was knocked imprecisely and what the witch had been attempting was ruined. Instead of lobbing it into the field, Alrik set the knife down and took a hefty bite. A fruit could be discarded but a mistake like this done upon a limb would not be so kind.

Alrik's eyes darted toward an approaching elvhen, he did little to acknowledge them but tipped his head idly. "I've a whole bushel if you're passing through." It sat at the end of the log, more victims for Alrik's apparently clumsy hands.

[alrikhart]

Wood and bone were building blocks and probably the most common materials besides stone. Alrik didn't respond to the question so much as raise a brow that the smith had asked it at all, the notion betrayed a great deal about what they did not know of Iskaran and druid rune carvers.

Alrik eyed the blade for a moment, "I can fashion my own just fine." Shorter spine, larger hilt, a rounded point, and rework of the guard - the practice blade they produced was basic enough. Alrik didn't accept gifts from strangers, particularly fey-blooded creatures. Superstition or not, he was independent enough to keep himself from another's debt. "I'll find you, should it make a difference."

War. They spoke as if Lysara or Avalon had done so much as lift a finger against the Aetherians, he shrugged off the question, neither option they presented was particularly appealing to him and he'd avoid lying in the elvhen's presence if possible. Alrik had no doubt surrounding their skill, with all the time at their disposal it was clear they'd spent those years making good use of it. "Hopefully that means we'll start winning some battles." Alrik met the stranger with a rueful smile before he wrenched the knife they'd plunged into the table.

"I'm just a man who was butchering fruit when you happened across him." The Wheel weaves, as some might say. Alrik's eyes flit toward one of the discarded fruits, "My intention has been clear from the beginning, if that makes me a distraction, don't let me keep you. After all, there's a war to win."

The smithmaster responded with little more than a grunt to signal they were listening when Alrik reported little issue with carving runes into metal. “What about wood? Bones?” They were softer, more brittle materials, but still surely less plastic than flesh itself. Auden fit their hand around the hilt of the knife and finalized their assessment. “While you tell me this knife has served you well with more rigid working materials, I don’t think it serves you well with something as soft as flesh. Based on my observations of your little orchard of mistakes here,” they continued, waving Alrik’s knife around at the discarded fruit littered around their feet, “I think you need to begin working on softer materials with a knife with a larger hilt and a shorter spine. I think the guard of this knife is also creating some errors in your work, so if you are comfortable foregoing that on a new knife, that may be advisable as well. A more rounded point could also be more forgiving as a learning knife.” They stuck the point of Alrik’s knife in the table before him so he could collect it back for himself and began to dig around in their pack for a blade that better fit their description. They had a spare. One their last apprentice in rune carving had learned on. “This knife will slow you down, but so will continuing to learn a rune carving on a new material with the wrong tool–so take it or leave it. How you spend your time is your business,” Auden stated, sliding the practice knife across the table toward him. “Find me in my smith and prove you have learned, and I’ll fashion it into something more proper that you may work with more quickly so long as you prove you’re able to use it accurately.” 

“If the war goes as everyone hopes, you will have a choice,” Auden reminded him impatiently. “Assuming you are as well suited to the task of surviving it as you look. So, do you wish to dodge the question again or will you answer it? When you have the choice, will you disavow your kingdom, or will you return to whatever scorched earth and ashes await you?” 

Auden caught up to what Alrik was doing quickly. Flattery would get someone far with the smith, but not everywhere and not if they were too obvious about it. Decades ago, before the ruby-haired Legionnaire had saved Auden from the jaws of possession at the eleventh hour, Auden would have willfully ignored the wool being pulled over their eyes. Not today. “Fancy is pedestrian and little challenge. My weapons will be the ones that blaze the path to victory for Taravell, the war will be won on the edges of the blades I craft for those warriors at the frontline,” Auden pontificated. “And thus I do not take kindly to distractions to my vocation.” Their blue eyes settled on Alrik’s face. “Do you mean to be a distraction?”

[alrikhart]

At this there was a short laugh, "Not since I was a boy, no." He offered his runed carving knife up to the elvhen and watched their eyes as they skimmed over the tool. It would come to the surprise of most to learn that Alrik's blunt hands could be dexterous and gentle when needed. His work on the streets with Alessia and as a Hidden One all but demanded focus, concentration, and a delicate touch as needed. "Any suggestions?" He'd had this same knife for years, but not tearing open someone's back was the ideal if he was going to be charging a premium.

"Iskaldrik is my home. I didn't have a choice." If people called it cruel then Alrik would call his past lifestyle predictable, in the months that he'd been in Lysara there were ghouls attacking people, spirits possessing farmlands, cities falling to undead, and likely more atrocities he'd yet to hear about. The Iskaran views on magic were cruel and unfair, but if the Tower was meant to police this Queendom then he didn't see anything but enablement and failures. Alrik had little love for this nation, but he'd come to enjoy the people within. The same could be said about Iskaldrik.

The other's arrogance fueled his ego, he had to wonder how they'd compare to a seasoned Iskaran smith, they were the best in the world and the resources in the mines and the unique knowledge of those who kept them had a chokehold on the world for thousands of years. "Oh? Very fancy." They sounded very entitled and incredibly rich, as Alessia would do he intended to milk them and their ego for whatever it was worth.

“Much more complaint a material, isn’t it?” Auden remarked, if only to keep the flow of conversation going. “Surely they were. Do you find you make the same errors in your craft when working with metal?” It would be important to know to diagnose the precise issue, though Auden felt they had a good idea of a starting place. Their eyes settled on Alrik’s knife and they extended a hand toward it. “May I?” The High Elvhen was quiet as Alrik explained the family history and trade. It was rare that Auden would deign to listen to an Iskaran prattle on about anything, but Auden did have some vested interest in learning Iskaran techniques and practices, even if they were convinced they were archaic and subpar in comparison to Elvhen artistry. Many Lysarans were foolish enough to travel across the borders and many paid bitterly for it; Auden was patient, they had no qualms with waiting for an opportunity to present itself in safer lands or to forgo learning the Iskaran approach to the trade at all. “Yes, I suppose you would,” Auden commented with a terse, unfriendly smile. “I think a great deal of your trouble may lie within your chosen tool itself,” Auden observed. The hilt of the knife and the blade could make a difference, the way it fits into a palm or the way the blade’s edge responds to the strength and pressure of its user's hand. 

Auden’s dark brows raised when Alrik asserted a favorable view of the lands. “The Silverlands specifically, or anywhere but Iskaldrik?” They did not need Alrik to inform them they could not return home. Eyeing the younger man, Auden suspected that Iskaldrik had not been a cordial climate toward him, though there was no obvious magic rolling off of him or physiological giveaways like pointed ears. “Would you, if given the option?” Auden pressed. It was generous of him to think Auden was called back; certainly Auden was an Elvhen who carried reputation and prestige, but they were just shy of the noble blood required of the call. “Myself, no. But many of great importance to me were. The Silverlands offer proximity to the Moongate and the more common ilk. And as I am the best at what I do, it would be a shame to deny either side of the gate of my services.”

[alrikhart]

"I'm used to carving into metals," Alrik offered, "principles of mistakes were the same there." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, scratching at the stubble that was there, "My father was a blacksmith," working with iron almost exclusively, "he taught me how to work the forge and a bit of runes, but after he died I just picked up what I could from whoever would give it to me." That was his answer, that if they had something they wanted to tell him then he'd be glad to take it. "I'll take anything free." Less prone toward advice, but if they had knowledge on the subject than Alrik was happy to receive.

"I like it here." More so than elsewhere, it seemed, "And I can't go home," Alrik took out another pear but didn't mar this one, instead he waited for the other's advice. "given my refugee status." They'd said something that interested him though, "You were called back to Avalon?"

The falseness in their expression was evident to Auden, clearly the result of a struggle toward the man’s desired performance. They decided they would lob him a softball of a compliment, or what someone as stern and focused as Auden considered to be a compliment. “Not who. What,” they began, turning a second pear that Larimer had pushed into their palm over. “It’s clear looking at these that you abandon your work when you make a mistake–which means you recognize your mistake.” That sense of awareness was far better than many novice rune carvers were capable of. The mistake was there, yes, but the ability to recognize it in the moment it was made showed great promise. “Yes. People tend to squirm,” Auden agreed with a slight curling of their nose thinking perhaps too hard about the idea of a blade working away at the organic material. “That’s why I’ve never favored flesh as a material to work with. Never had the stomach for it, either… No matter. Could I offer you some free advice?” The young man wasn’t there fishing for a lesson, and further Auden was pretty sure the accent they picked up was distinctly Iskaran, but they would be remiss to let this raven haired boy disfigure someone in the future because they were too dedicated to their own personal bias. “I live here and there–I’m always passing through,” Auden responded. They owned multiple properties stretching across the expanse of Taravell, but considered nowhere to be a true home. “I figure with the unrest and nobles called back to Avalon, it isn’t the worst idea to remain close to the Moongate. What business does an Iskaran refugee have in these parts?” Auden never enjoyed being questioned, so they lobbed the boys question back in his direction.