30th of Ymiden 720
After the Faldrunium was retrieved, Woe didn't waste any time in bringing it where it needed to go. He was making many presumptions in his actions here, but he couldn't afford to lose time. He knew that Perfeita wished to keep his son from the draft. This Faldrunium, while also placating the High Almoner's persecutors, would also serve to do the same to those who would draft Rufio. And while they wouldn't by any means allow Woe to rob them of such a talented warrior for their ranks, he was offering something almost equal in value.
He would offer his services to the Dragoons as an agent along with a fiery bribe for their captain.
The small chest containing the shipment was light in the arms. Surprisingly so. Woe had thought that the metal would be heavier, but interestingly each ingot felt almost as light as air when unrefined. It was possible that the metal would get heavier in the refining process as it got hammered out into blades and other weapons. He didn't know much about it, all told. He hadn't time to read the book on Faldrunium smithing that Perfeita had lent him.
The walk through the streets put the misery of late on full display. People lived, toiled, and idled in depravity, even in the heart of the Gleam, with the Shanty's ranks spilling over with refugees from the baronies. It was hard to keep them confined to the Shanty. Impossible, in fact.
Woe only kept them in his view so long as they posed a potential threat to him, as he carried his box to the smithy.
A break or so into his walk, he came upon the armored guards flanking either side of Perfeita's shop, Alamina Perfeita. Woe walked in as the door was opened by one of the guards, carrying the crate still. His arms were beginning to tire as he went along. Finally, he found relief as he entered the lobby, laying the crate down beside one of the lounges, to which he sat himself down.
He waited several bits before Rufio came out to greet him, a bored look on his face. He said something in Vahanic, before his face lit up in faux alarm, "Oh yes, Master Morandi. I forget you do not know our tongue. What brings you here today?"
Woe stared impassively at Rufio, the corner of his mouth twisting into a subtle smile, "I'm here to speak with your father, on our bargain we made earlier."
Rufio stared at him blankly a few full moments, and then narrowed his eyes with a furrow of his brow, "What is it? What is in there? You can tell me everything, there are no secrets between myself and my father."
Woe shook his head, and allowed his spark to indulge itself with the excretion of etheric honey through his words, meant to soothe the boy with false assurance. "Some material I brought for him." He said, searching the boy's tangle for that elusive thread of personal relief. He found the boy far too tense for his liking, which made that a chore that required him to speak again before he could attempt more manipulation, "You may inform him that I have arrived with what he requested?"
He spoke the words easily as the thread was found, and pulled from where it lie just beneath the surface. Rufio visibly relaxed, and then nodded reluctantly. Woe relinquished his feelers from the boy's tangle as he disengaged, and went to fetch his father.
Breen appeared next to Woe after he entered the back of the shop, and Woe turned to the dog with a smile, "All too easy."
Breen whined piteously, patting the ground. "Master, I need to feed again soon..."
"There was plenty of fodder along the way... Why not take a walk outside? If that isn't enough, you'll have a glut of sorrow to feast upon when the Creep descends upon us."
Breen whined, and bowed his head.
But in a few moments, Breen departed, and the senior Perfeita appeared in the front of the store. He approached Woe with slight trepidation. It was odd to see such a seasoned politician and craftsman, a man that had doubtless striven and endured and survived so cowed. Perhaps it was just that Woe knew he himself meant no harm. Or was it something else that worried the elder Perfeita? Did he fear his son's reaction when he broke the news, that his draft would be delayed to a later round?
Yes, as Woe searched the elder's tangle, he could perceive a broken tooth on the surface. Often a symbol of concerns regarding one's offspring. At least in Woe's experience. He relinquished his surveillance of the man's tangle when he began speaking. He didn't wish to disrespect the man, whether he was aware of it or not.
"So, Mister Morandi. You have the materials? And what of our agreement?"
Woe shook his head, and leaned over to throw open the parcel he'd brought to the man's shop. Inside, the ingots wrapped in golden salamander leather. All of the leathers were firewarded by an alchemist, and would both contain and insulate the heat therein. It was the perfect wrapping for a faldrunium hilt.
"It will be done, as soon as I've seen the blades, made by the famed Alamina Perfeita, in the hands of the right people. Four must be made, then another for a friend of mine. Keep two ingots as payment, and then... my weapon."
Perfeita held up his hands, animated in his disapproval. "Morandi, I told you I only craft blades! I can't... I won't make a... a whip."
Woe sighed, declining his chin as he turned his head aside. He had hoped not to exercise his empathy beyond some token surveillance of the man's motives. But in truth, it would only take a little bit of coaxing to get him to do what he wished. This, in tandem with a promise, "I will not tell anyone you crafted it then. I'll credit your associate, Sa-Ki-Uata. That is, if you think you can arrange for her to take credit."
Woe pulled the thread of trust out of him easily, it was near the surface anyways, lingering from when he'd shared words with his son in the backroom. Perfeita held his chin in his hand, giving it serious thought, "Hmmm... she's unscrupulous enough to take credit for something I did myself... Perhaps it can be arranged..." Woe tugged harder at the thread of trust, and embroidered it in at the surface. "Yes then, I will do it."
"Excellent." Woe said, rising from his seat. He left the faldrunium where it lay, and handed Perfeita the key to the small trunk. "You can find me not far from the edge of the fortress... in the...."
Perfeita's turn to smile inscrutably, "No no, my friend. You will stay around to test your acumen at the whip. I cannot have weapons exiting my forge being held by novices, even though my mark not be on them. A point of pride."
Woe's mouth turned and twisted a that, yet he shrugged. He was skilled with the whip, beyond skilled, and was willing to put his acumen on display in order to attain what he wanted.
A few breaks later, Rufio had him set up in the testing room. Here, they had several candles set up around a circle. This was normally a tets reserved for bladesmen, to see if they could extinguish the candleflames with a mere stroke of their blade, without severing the candle itself. To have such exquisite control over a weapon required the utmost skill, that would elude anyone who wasn't a master. It was a way to ensure the quality of men taking the weapon would not sully the reputation of the smith.
A point of pride.
Woe accepted the challenge, and took his own old leather whip in hand. He tested his control over it, shorter coil at first, then extended the coil with more slack until the full length of it extended outward. He lashed outward at the first candlemark.
Flish... The candle was extinguished, it's stick left aloft upon its mooring.
Flish, flish, flish-flish. The second, third, fourth and fifth candles extinguished with nothing but a thin plume of smoke to mark the fact it'd be lit only moments before.
Flish, flish. Candle six and seven were snuffed.
Flish The eighth and final candle was put out. And that was that.
Woe searched for Rufio in the darkness as he recoiled the whip around his arm in a deft motion, pinning the coil to his arm with an abrupt crossing of his arms. "Well?"
"Not bad." Said Rufio, crossing his own arms.
Several breaks passed, during which Woe was given the extreme privilege of seeing parts of his faldrunium mail whip being forged, one link at a time. The links became shorter and lighter as it extended toward the end, and that was the balance that would allow it to be used as any other bullwhip that he'd been used to in his time.
The way the faldrunium was shaped was strange, and unlike anything he'd seen with steel, in his time as a laborer in Withersfield. It was left on a cold stone for a time, far away from the fires of the forge, and then once cooled, shaped. The tempering of each link happened in the flame as it was wrapped around the latter link. And link by link the mail whip was lengthened, until it came to about two and a half meters in length.
The whip was finished with a magnificent hilt, a masterpiece in its own right of grave-gold with faldrunium core and filagree. Around this core handle, he wrapped straps of golden salamander leather that was fire-warded by an alchemist. The first few lengths of the whip itself were similarly bound by the leather, braided expertly by the smith who also turned out to be a fair hand at leatherwork as well.
In the end, Woe was ceremoniously handed the weapon, wrapped in its sheath of golden salamander leather.
The whip's metal handle was fashioned in the shape of a scorpion's tail, with a small cross-section at the top of the hilt that resembled a pair of claws. The rest of the whip is made of fire-warded, golden salamander hide wrapped around a core of faldrunium chain, in the style of a short bullwhip, its cord about a meter and half in length. At the very end of the whip, the popper consists of a light, spiked and sharpened faldrunium chain links.
Woe was well satisfied with it.
"You will have the blades in time for presentation at Court then?" Woe asked, with an uplifted brow.
"Yes sir, they will have their weapons, as will your ally you've spoken of."
Woe nodded, and departed with the fruits of his bargaining. It'd put him halfway into poverty, but it'd be worth it. He hoped.
