Steel has interesting properties. It isn’t really a magical metal, in any sense of the word. It’s not like something such as orichalcum or cobalt-chromium, both of which could have enchanted properties. It isn’t a ‘base’ metal like iron or copper either. Steel is a metal made mostly out of iron and some carbon. In the case of this specific grade of steel, nickel is the core secondary ingredient. What this results in is that steel is highly useful for tools and weapons with a nature of physical-applications, since it’s bad at holding magical energies inside of itself.

Pure iron, as a base metal, is sort of okay at everything, but not really great. But it’s cheap and easy to work with. Steel however, is in a sense, an ‘advanced class’ of iron as a metal. If iron is the level-one adventurer of metals, then steel is the level-five adventurer, who specialized as a fighter.

“What about copper?” asks Rhine, as Hineni finishes his explanation.

The man blinks, looking at the ever-inquisitive boy. “It’s like the level five wizard of metals.”

Rhine rubs his lip with the back of his thumb. “I don’t know if this metaphor works.”

Hineni lifts the hammer in his hand, pointing it towards the side of the room. “Boy. Bring me more wood,” he says, feeling a little annoyed, honestly. He feels like it was a strong metaphor.

Rhine, dripping with sweat, moves over and does as he’s told. It’s just about the last of the wood. The forge burns fast and hot and it eats more wood than Obscura does frogs. After this axe is finished, they’re going to need to go to the forest. He’s glad that it hasn’t started snowing yet, but it will soon. The chill in the air is starting to set in, the traces of his breath are becoming ever more and more visible in the early morning hours and even worse so, inside of the house.

Rhine throws in the next heap of wood and watches as Hineni hammers away at the steel.

“How come you don’t just use your crafting abilities to make the blade?” asks Rhine, wiping his wet forehead on his soaked through sleeve.

“Blades, I make by hand,” explains Hineni, turning the half-formed chunk of steel sideways with his tongs as he continues to strike against it with his hammer. “I only use my abilities for finicky stuff.”

“Why? Wouldn’t you be a lot faster then?” asks Rhine, lifting up his hands. Hineni eyes him warily. But the boy just seems to be wiggling his fingers to demonstrate. “Poof, done. Just like that!”

The hammer strikes against the metal, resting there for a moment. Of course, Rhine is technically correct. Hineni could use his crafting abilities to make a blade for an axe or a sword in a jiffy. Sure, it would cost him some of his energy to use. But he has enough energy to use a spell like that a few times. Plus, it’s probably not more or less energy than making these things by hand. It does cost more materials though. The ingredient needed for an iron blade is one full iron ingot. An ingot with a standard weight of five kilograms. The resulting blade would only be significantly less than that. It's an extremely materially inefficient process. But…

He stares down at the head of the axe, narrowing his eyes as he sees something… obscure. A little bump, tiny, not really noticeable. But he notices it nonetheless. It doesn’t belong and with a precise strike of his hammer, he flattens it back out. In truth, he loves this work. This is his greatest joy in life, this act of creation.

But it comes with a price attached to it that most artists likely need not pay for theirs.“People are going to die, Rhine,” says Hineni.

The boy stares at him for a moment, obviously perplexed by his seemingly random statement. “…What?”

“We make weapons,” says Hineni, lifting the hammer again. Tufts of ash float lazily through the air, past his illuminated silhouette as the forge spits them out his way. The particulate flies around him as if drawn by the tiny, minuscule breeze caused by the rising of his fist, of the hammer. The ash sticks to his gloves. “For adventurers, but for anyone really,” says the man. “It’s only a matter of time until someone uses it against someone who isn’t a goblin or a slime.”

He turns his head, looking at his hand. Lowering his leather shawl a bit, he blows the ash off of himself and returns to his work.

“What does that have to do with your spells?”

“I’m taking responsibility,” explains the man. “I’m not hiding from it anymore. When that day comes, if it hasn’t already, I’m taking responsibility,” states Hineni. “I will have made that weapon with intent. I won’t be able to hide from it by saying that I was just using an ability on the fly,” he says. “That it was just a spell. That I didn't mean to,” he explains. Old ash swirls around him, carried by the warm draft rising from the burning forge. It won't be like back then. This time, in the future to come, he’s going to hold himself accountable for what will happen. ”It will be me. It will be my hands, my time that made that weapon.”

Rhine stares at him for a moment. “I don’t get it,” says the boy. “If someone uses a weapon that you made to do something bad, that’s not your fault?”

The hammer strikes against the metal again, flattening the steel into a broader shape. “Taking on responsibility, Rhine,” says Hineni. “Full responsibility for the effect that your actions have on the world. That’s what being a man is.”

Now, in truth, he knows that half of this is bullshit that he made up on the spot. But… it felt right to say and he feels like it is actually what he truly feels, even if he hadn’t known it before. And as for what being a ‘man’ really is, he is unsure if he is qualified to judge or speak on such matters in all honesty, given his newness to the domain. Will someone use his weapons to kill another person? Yes. It’s inevitable.

Is he going to lose sleep over it? Far less now, than if he had simply tried to ignore this topic forever. He’s a weaponsmith. It’s part of the territory.

He turns his gaze, looking back down at Rhine, expecting to see a confused expression. But he sees something else instead, that he can’t quite place. He isn’t sure what to do with it, really.

Rhine stands up straighter, pulling his shoulders back. Hineni nods and returns to his work.

The hammer strikes again.

Three hours later, the blade of the axe is done and affixed to a pre-made handle that he had laying in his collection. The grip is fitted with a padded, black leather wrap, like all of his creations.

- [Steel Axe]{Gift of the owl-god} -

- Quality -

Normal

- Composition - [Steel Blade]{Axe}(Normal) [Wooden Handle](Normal) [Leather Wrap](Normal) [Black Cloth Wrap](Normal) [Black Cord](Normal) - Quality Effects -

“Chosen of the owl-god”

Adds additional attributes to the attached weapon - Title Effect - “Gift of the owl-god” +3 OBSCURANTISM +3 WIND DMG +3 LUK

Steel: Item Durability +20%

Steel: Item Damage +5%

6.3 PHYSICAL DMG A long forester’s axe, meant to be used with both hands. Its steel blade is keen and sharp. It feels very sturdy. ‘Made by weaponsmith Hineni - Chosen of the Owl God’ Weight: 1.33kg Durability: 36/36 Value: 333 Obols

Hineni nods to himself, holding the axe. It feels good in his hands, much better than his old one, which was always a little wobbly, honestly. “Here,” says Hineni. “Carry this.”

Rhine grabs the axe that is almost as long as he himself is and swings it over his shoulder. “Okay!” says the boy, losing his balance from the momentum of the long thing. He struggles to straighten himself back up.

Hineni nods. “Dry yourself off first,” he says as he starts extinguishing the forge. “We’re going out to the forest. We don’t want you getting the winter-sickness twice.”

“I feel better now,” affirms Rhine. “I’m not going to get sick from something dumb like being wet!”

“Sure,” says Hineni, scooting the boy out to the front-room before taking a few extra minutes to slowly extinguish the fire of the forge.

*Thook*

*Thook*

Rhine gasps for air.

*Thook*

“You’re doing good,” says Hineni, standing there with crossed arms, leaning against a tree.

“This is hard!” complains the boy.

Hineni tilts his head. “Too hard for Rhine, the river-wizard?”

The boy grits his teeth, looking back at the so-far unimpressed tree with determination.

*Thook*

“WHO~!” This time, Hineni jumps, scrambling around as he looks at Obscura who has chosen him to scare today, apparently. “Bully, Hineni!” she hoots, spinning her head in a circle. “He says Obscura is cruel, but he torments too! Who~!”

Seeing her, despite his jumping heart, Hineni lets out a sigh of relief. “I was worried about you.”

“Who~?”

“You,” says Hineni. Shit. Wait. He had already tried that dumb joke twice n-

Obscura smiles, clutching her hands together by her face. “Me?” she hoots. “Hineni worries about Ob~ Scu~ Ra~?”

…It worked? He nods. “You.”

The owl-goddess extends her arms out, coming out from behind the tree. “Reverent! Doting Hineni! Obscura has learned many things for him!” She stops, her posture freezing as she holds one arm up in the air and stands on one leg. Her head turns around at an unnatural angle to her body, looking straight at him. “He should worship me,” she says in a cold voice, with wide, paranoid eyes.

“I looked at a book about owls once,” says Hineni. “That makes us even.”

“WHO~!” she protests, spinning around to face him. “Hineni’s eyes wander to others!”

“Uh…” Hineni turns to look at the just as confused boy and then back at her. Wait. Is she jealous about him reading about owls? “I was reading about owls to learn about you?” he remarks, shrugging. “Besides, you’ve read about humans too,” he says. “Don’t think I didn’t see the missing ‘H’ books in the library when we met.”

“Obscura was looking for HINENI!” she crows, her voice cracking as she says his name. “But Hineni’s book-nest doesn’t have Hineni-books!”

The man blinks, by the time he reopens his eyes a fraction of a second later, she’s gone. He turns around to look at Rhine and sees her sitting on the handle of the axe, in the form of a small owl that Rhine stares very nervously at out of the sides of his eyes. His body is stiff and petrified, as he was the first thing that the winter had bitten.

“Anyway,” says Hineni. “Where’d you run off to?”

The owl spins her head, scanning the forest. “Obscura has many enemies. Many want my Hineni,” she turns her head the other way, leaning in towards the boy. “My RHINE!” Rhine yelps, pushing the axe away from himself and holding onto it with a shaking arm. Obscura sits undisturbed on her perch. “I had to watch, to observe,” she says. “Hineni handled the Beni well,” she praises, spinning her head in a circle.

“What are we going to do about that?” asks Hineni. “They could be in the guild. They could be our neighbors. They could be anyone.”

“Who?” asks Rhine. “Is something wrong?”

“Frogs…” mutters Hineni under his breath.

“FROGS!” hoots Obscura, spreading her wings wide in anger. Rhine flinches again, just barely evading the tips of her feathers.

“…F- Frogs?” asks the usually bold caster with a quaking voice. He really is terrified of Obscura. But Hineni doesn’t blame him. She’s only recently started being nice to Rhine, so it’ll take a little until her prior terrorizing of him wears off. Like it had done for the two of them. “Like the kind we caught by the pond?”

Hineni shakes his head. “Not that kind,” he says, considering his options. “Listen. Some stuff has happened. You need to know about it too,” he says. “You might be in danger if you stick with us.”

Hineni hadn’t considered it too much before. But this is very true. He’s been worried about himself and Obscura mostly. But he’s bringing other people into their lives as well. It’s only right that they know about the risks at hand. The man looks at Obscura, who gives him a slight nod. Hineni nods back. “Let’s get the wood first, before it gets too cold outside,” he says, taking the axe from Rhine. Obscura flies up off of the handle, landing on Hineni’s shoulder. “We have a lot to talk about tonight.”

They got a lot of wood. Not nearly enough, obviously. But a lot for one haul. Rhine could carry a little bit himself and Obscura carried quite a few pieces back herself in her talons, having taken the form of a giant owl and flying on ahead.

Hineni stands there in the front room, his arms at his hips. He’s impressed, honestly. “It’s great work,” he says, bending down and touching the new floor.

“Thank you,” says the carpenter, handing over a slip of paper. Hineni looks at it. It’s the bill.

He turns his head around. “One moment,” says the man, walking back to the booth he was sitting at. Sockel, the receptionist from the adventurer’s guild, is here for her half-shift. “Does this look right?” asks Hineni, handing her the slip of paper. Her head, already drooping into sleep, jolts upright. She takes the paper from him, rubbing her eyes as she reads. He digs through his bag meanwhile, getting the coins.

“Looks good to me,” she says, writing down the number of Obols and the name of the contractor into the ledger. “We can take eight percent of this off at the end of the year,” she remarks, sliding the bill back to him.

“Thanks,” he says, getting up and giving the man his well-earned money. Even if it does hurt a little. Still, a fair few days’ work deserves a fair few days’ pay. “I’ll be sure to come to you for anything else,” he says, nodding.

“Looking forward to it,” replies the carpenter, taking the coins and then signing the bill off as paid.

(Hineni) paid: [{3000} Obols ] !

Hineni shuts the door behind the man as he leaves, smiling as he then leans back and looks at his house. Despite the fact that his pockets are significantly emptier than they were a moment ago.

Sure, there’s still a lot that needs to be done. A lot of the furniture is dated and the cushions worn out or still ruined from the flooding. The window is still under repair, needing another day. The lights that hang up from the rafters haven’t been set alight in ten-some years. But, if nothing else, the floor is a beautiful, restored, red-toned wood that carries with it a color and warmth that seems far out of place amidst the rest of the gray, time-stained room that surrounds it. Even without the old coating ash, the room still looks… gray.

But as he bends down to stroke the new boards with his bare hands, he realizes that this new thing, this splash of color in this room is the thing that belongs to it, not the rest of it, not the gray.

The man lifts his gaze, seeing a peek of azure blue coming from behind the receptionist’s counter as Rhine goes to the library. He catches in a corner of his eye a whisper-full of a tawny, woody-brown as Obscura stalks around, inspecting every nook and cranny that the craftsmen had touched. He sees the tinge of forest-gold as a strand of hair falls from Sockel’s head, dangling from the table that she rests her face on. He assumes that she’s drooling on the wood.

These colors now paint a room that had been once full of nothing but dreary, dead tones and as he gets up to his feet, stretching himself out in his own home, Hineni knows that he likes these new shades a lot more.