------ Chapter 8: The Storm Before the Storm ------

Okay, finally finished this chapter, plenty of distractions this week.

For example, I found out Mushoku Tensei "ended" so I spent most of a day catching up on that.

Here is another 30 page chapter though.

I no longer count the number of people I have healed, I even question if I really healed them properly. During the night, the goblins made a harder push through the woods and many of the wounded mirts from that encounter came through me first. Their wounds are mostly bruises, bone breaks, or gouged flesh.

Prior to this goblin attack, it was uncommon for someone to have so many wounds. Just an arrow or two, maybe they faced a koblin in melee and came out of it with stabs and cuts. However, the goblins are using different tactics to mass a large group through a small area.

The torn flesh is difficult to patch together completely and I do not have enough time to focus so much mana into each wound as the number of waiting injuries increases. I take shortcuts, mend enough blood vessels and muscle fibers together and move on. The damaged skin can be bandaged and healed at the temple.

There are new kinds of injuries that I encounter as well. One that is new involves a man’s cheek being torn by a short stabbing blade. The flap of skin hangs from his jaw, to treat it, I quickly focus on attaching the small muscles inside to hold the cheek’s shape.

Another wound that initially stumped me came from an eye, gouged by a spear. As I try to inspect the wound the man squirms in pain, his eyelid held tightly shut.

“Easy there.” Pakt says to the man as he holds the man’s shoulders down.

While breathing heavily the man says in a panic, “You can heal it right?”

Pakt looks up at me, he gives me an expression of doubt. I have never healed an eye before and I do not think he has seen one healed either.

“I will not be healing it completely, once I patch it up enough the head priest will continue with it.” I tell him as I gently place my fingers over his bloody eyelid.

With my mana I can get a vague idea of the damage, like most wounds I need to consider the structure and layers of the eye to heal it better. So, I place my other hand’s fingers over my own eye to feel the same way I feel this information.

The eye is mostly filled with a gelatinous substance, most of his has leaked out and I do not plan on trying to heal that. Instead, the outer layer of the eye can be repaired easily. The pupil area of the eye will be a little trickier with more complex parts. There is a sort of harder lens in the eye that has to be positioned right with very small muscles around.

I assume this is to adjust light entering the eye or changing focus. If I ever get some time I will have to remember to note some of this information down. I hope the work I do to patch his eye up will work out; if not, a follow up will be needed to find out more about why the eye has this structure.

By repairing structural damage in the flesh only I conserve my mana, the temple priests can then heal the wounds much easier. Usual healing magic does not attempt to restructure the injured area and often forms a scar afterwards. Therefore, if there is enough trauma around a wound the wound will not heal properly.

That is unless a more complex spell is cast, Patyr is very knowledgable about these kinds of spells. However, as the spell becomes more complex, it requires things like items and crystals to help focus the different spell stages. More stages also results in more mana flow needed to feed the spell.

So, when I bypass the complex spells through higher mana focus to heal the specific structures like blood vessels and muscle fibers, the simple healing spells will not leave behind scar damage.

I repeat this in my mind as I work to avoid the temptation to completely heal a wound. By doing so, I walk a fine balance between keeping up with the wounded arrivals and running out of mana. To top my condition off, my eyes feel weighed down even if my adrenaline spurs me on.

“Well, you’re holding up well.” a familiar voice calls out.

I had begun to wash my hands when I heard this. I check my shoulder to find Arga, his face light from the dim light of a fire nearby.

“What brings you here?” Pakt asks, he seems to know Arga at least.

“We had to back out of the battle, it was becoming too much of a risk to the new recruit’s lives to face a head on attack for that long.”

I begin to tend to a shoulder stab wound while listening to Pakt and Arga talk at my side.

“Did they pursue?”

“No, the goblins withdrew as soon as we pulled back into the bush. We killed a lot of them and mostly walked out with wounds on our side.”

“Damn, sounds like the goblins have finished rallying.” Pakt comments, folding his arms as he looks to the southern woods.

“Not all of them are rallied, may have been two hundred. It felt like we were one for every two goblins.”

“Sounds like fair odds.” I catch a look at Pakt’s confident grin as he says this.

“These arn’t the goblin hunters you’re used to. More of them are warriors, protected by metal or gobite armour.”

“Like that one you faced before?”

“I’d say that goblin was a sort of leader, they are good at using their mana with gobite weapons and armour. Most of their warriors are not as powerful but still a hard opponent to face.” Arga loosens his shield, flexing his left arm.

Curious, Pakt asks, “did they get you?”

“Weak gobite strikes, my shield could absorb most of the impact power. I’m gettin’ old, my arm can’t handle as much anymore.”

“I’m sure Kordi could do something about it, he was sayin’ things about healing massages.”

Hearing this I turn back to look at the two.

“Its alright Kordi, just an old mirt moaning about his troubles to his youngers.” Arga says to me with a smile, “By the way, you’ve been busy the last few days. Learn anything interesting?”

“I learned about Harlots.”

“Ha! Pakt, I thought you resolved to give them up when Lara returned from her apprenticeship.” Arga says, proding Pakt.

“Wha- I didn’t do nuthin’ to them!” Pakt replies holding his hands out.

Arga leans in to say to me, “I don’t know how close he was to her before, but when she returned as a full woman he was swooning for her.”

“Hey, don’t bring that up here.” Pakt’s retort is a little bashful.

“So, that explains a lot.” I comment.

“OH?” Arga’s lips part into a cruel smile, “Let me hear more of this.”

“Kordi! Hey, Arga, not here-”

Arga rests his shoulder over Pakt and begins to joke with him, Pakt tries to break the conversation but Arga is persistent. With a little quiet I focus more on healing the next wounded. If the fighting has calmed down, I would like to hurry up and get some sleep.

I yawn while thinking about sleep, my adrenaline is wearing off as the serious wounds have been managed first. The remaining injuries are deep cuts, the blood has since clotted under their bandages. Removing the clot takes a little more time than healing the severed blood vessels.

By the time I finished the last wound I feel heavy and drained as I search around for Pakt. He is sitting near one of the fires looking at the edge of the woods, Arga has gone back to Calbin. Pakt looks over his shoulder to see that I have begun to pack my tools up.

My hands have become accustom to the cold air, the bandages I wrapped my hands needed to be changed. Which I would have prefered to have done more often; however, I do not have enough time or spare mana to properly wash and dry the bandages out in the cold.

Either way, I hurry to gather up my tools into the small pack. The desire to feel warmth spurs me to quickly get back to the manor. Staying there now will be a nice upgrade from the pile of hay and furs at the inn.

“Can’t say this night has been uneventful for you. Slow for me though.” Pakt says before taking a long yawn.

The morning shift will be arriving at some point before the sun rises again, for now the third shift watches the woods. They keep quiet to listen for enemy movement instead of relying on sight in the dark.

“How well can goblins see in the dark?” I ask, the question popped into my mind after I took notice of how dark the woods are.

“A little better than we do. Of course, if you stare at the light of a fire, your eyes will not see well in the dark for a bit.”

“So, that is why most of you sit with their backs to the flame?”

“Yea, it keeps our eyes ready to spot movement in the dark. Though, it is more likely I will hear something before I see it.”

I continued to make some small talk with Pakt as we make our way north across the field to reach the manor. We do not really talk about much else aside from myself asking why the goblins prefer to attack at night if they do not see as well in the dark.

Goblins are not as accurate in archery compared with us Mirts; therefore, by fighting at night they reduce our effective archery range. The koblins, apparently, are not as concerned about fighting during the day. Koblins spend more time improving their archery through hunting and fighting skirmishes against the mirts every year.

The two of us arrive at the manor tired, cold, and hungry. Most of the servants are asleep while only one is still awake on night duties, she recommended we wash up while a meal is prepared.

Similar to Laro’s washing tub, the manor has a small metal tub of clean water in a small room with a drain. Pakt used fire magic under the tub to warm the water before we can wipe the long day’s sweat off. Since sweat cools the skin it is important to wash the sweat off, even if the water is cold the body will warm itself faster without the salty sweat.

We also wash each other’s backs without really saying much, I can tell from Pakt’s eyes that he is starting to feel tired from the long day. There is another perk to staying at the manor, my silk underclothes will be washed by the servants here every day. So, I change into my other pair and leave the used pair in a basket in the washing room along with Pakt’s used clothes.

Assuming the servants know the pair is mine, I can expect to not have to wear the same clothes for a few days and only wash when I find enough time. Washing clothes is also hard in the cold winters when the moisture freezes before you finish drying them.

The warm meal prepared for us is hearty enough to fill our empty bellies, the skilled seasoning and preparation of the dried meat is done well enough that I am not bothered knowing it is probably koblin meat. After eating I make my way to my room in a daze.

I collapse on the bed prepared for me I stayed in last time. It is hard for me to say I stayed in this bed yesterday since I was up early and have been awake for over a full day. The morning sun will rise in a few hours but I do not linger on this much before sleep overcomes me.

I can tell I am dreaming, I find myself in the woods during the winter. Yet, for all of the snow around me I feel no cold. The cold pines look and sound real, I hear crackling sounds as the snow weighs down on the trees before small icicles break off from the wind and hit the ground.

Uneasiness tightens itself around my heart as I look over my shoulder, a shape of darkness stares at me from a distance. The surrounding woods darken out the white of the snow focusing the only light between myself and the figure.

I remain still as I attempt to focus my eyes on finding out what it is, before I can the figure dives into the snow. The movement of snow mounding and bursting upwards drives itself towards me while darting left and right.

Trying to take a step back I fall into the snow that feels as if it is binding me down. My feet are stuck in place by the snow I stood in. Pulling my chest up to look ahead the snow erupts as dark hands reach towards me. The weight of the snow engulfs me.

I push back with all my effort, trapped within darkness, trying to break free I feel the weight wrapped around me fall away. The darkness still remains; however, my skin, now covered in sweat, is sensitive to the cold air.

I take deep breaths, drawing the cold air in as each breath feels like it draws more life into my mind. The room is still too dark to see so, I must rely on the sounds to find out more. I hear the rattling and whistling of the building suggesting a strong wind or storm. That noise may have invited the unpleasant dream.

I partially open the window to see outside, a flurry of snow rushes in from the storm outside. The cloud cover is too thick to see if the sun is out. After closing the wooden window I put on the rest of my clothes, now that I am cooled off, and head out of the room.

One of the servants notices me as I made my way down the stairs.

“Morning, you are up early.” she says.

“Ah, how early is it?”

“Well, I would say late morning.”

“Thanks, a bad dream woke me early.”

“Oh? Was it a Mahr?”

“I do not know, couldn’t see anything.”

“I will check the room, have something to eat downstairs.”

I nod to her before continuing downstairs. If I remember correctly from some writings in the temple, Mahr or Mara are considered nightmare spirits that may feed on dreamers giving nightmares.

Some of the information I found varied about what they are, some say there are Mara that are peaceful and docile, others claim them to be viscous and dangerous. Even when I was younger, my mother would warn me not to venture deep in the woods when it is dark, a Mahr would drag me away and eat me.

Honestly, I feel doubtful about how real they are, the stories are so varied most come from people half asleep. I could imagine that something was in the room with me, but in the end, there was nothing to be found after my senses returned.

More so, I feel that the nightmare is related to the howling winds from the blizzard outside that made me sleep restlessly. With that worry out of the way I entered the dining room where Farl, Varrel, and Esken are sitting at. Their attention turns towards me as I step inside.

“Your up, I heard that you and Pakt returned very late in the night.” Farl says to me.

“Yes, the goblins continued to fight during the night and this storm is difficult to sleep in.”

“While I do not enjoy the number of mara being blown in from the storm it is also affecting the goblins. Both of our sides are going to be stuck during the storm, lets hope the cold kills enough of them off.” Farl adds.

“We know they are sheltering in some caves nearby, you lost the opportunity to properly seal them during the first weeks of their attack.” Varrel comments.

Upon hearing this, Farl lets a sigh out. I suppose there was only so much he could do in such short time. Knowing ahead of time the scale of the attack was not something Farl would have known right away either. It does feel like Varrel and Esken are sharing some knowledge in a particularly cruel way.

“At least we have another day or more free so the reinforcements can arrive.” Farl says, leaning back to stretch.

“This very storm will also delay our army from arriving as well.” Varrel comments again.

Farl’s relaxed form twitches before he lets out another sigh, this time a lower grumble.

I find a chair to sit at which signals a servant to arrive with food. Hot stew and bread again. Not that I mind the same thing all the time, the warmth is very welcome in the cold and the meal is filling. I dip pieces of the bread into the stew to eat while the stew cools.

“What is your plan for the day?” Varrel says.

I turn to see who is aims this question to. His stare points to myself as I hold a piece of stew soaked bread in my mouth. Judging by his frown I am not showing the best of manners. I reply after finishing my mouthful.

“I will check in with the temple to see if they have any need. If I do not need to do much, I will work on breaking down that gobite hammer. You want it cast into a sithril hammer?”

“That would be preferred, hammers are more effective at breaking through armour than a sword.” Varrel replies.

“What’s this?” Farl asks.

Esken also shows some interest in what Varrel will say.

“He has developed a way of refining gobite into more pure sithril.” Varrel answers.

“Well, that is interesting, as much as I would like to know I won’t force anyone to part from their secrets.” Farl says looking towards me.

“I ground the gobite down to separate most of the different parts of the ore. Would be hard to keep it a secret when anyone who sees me filing away at pieces of gobite would be able to tell.”

Farl raised his eyebrows, “Really? Has Laro adopted the process then?”

“No, it is more labour intensive than just melting it all; however, by grinding it down I can separate the useful minerals and crystals lost when the slag is melted away. So, by grinding I can remove the slag without losing as much magic property.”

Farl seems interested in the process and considers encouraging it to produce a specialized Calbin Sithril after the siege. The topic helps revitalise his emotional state a little. I even explain a bit about the balance of silver and magic minerals in the sithril. Like myself, Varrel is interested in seeing a higher mineral content in the hammer he wants me to make to find out how it will perform.

Pakt arrives in the dining hall after I finish eating, his uncle Farl wants to speak with Pakt on some subjects. So, Esken takes the job of escorting me to the temple as Varrel prepares to patrol around Calbin and talk with the garrisons.

Being inside the blizzard is an incredible experience, I can barely see in front of me as the strong winds blast snow into my eyes. The wind is strong enough that the snow falls at more of a flat angle. To guide me, Esken grabs my hand and pulls me along.

To navigate, we know that the temple is to the right of the manor on the other side of the road. However, we will not know we have reached it until the stone walls are within a distance we can touch it.

Fortunately there are only two stone buildings in Calbin, once we find the wall we can follow it to the door. The problem we face is stepping through the deep snow, without any paths because of heavy snowfall I have to raise my legs high enough to walk forward. My strange walk is awkward and I nearly lose balance a few times when my knee are almost raised to my hip.

I follow Esken around the stone temple’s walls to the main doors, which are fortunately cleared of snow. However, the door’s hinges are freezing over from the cold snow trying to blow in through the door gaps. Esken manages to break one of the doors free on her second attempt.

Inside, Lara has begun to come to the door with a wooden hammer in hand, probably to pound the door and break the ice.

“Welcome.” she abruptly says.

It takes Lara a moment to figure out who she is speaking with, I can see why. Both Esken and I are covered in snow even from the short walk we made. There is a distinctly different smell inside the temple today, not of corpses or medicine but a plant odor.

“Kordi, glad you are okay, then is this?” Lara asks as she peeks at Esken who is shaking her robe of snow off.

“Esken Eara.” she replies, pulling back her robe’s hood.

“Oh, I see, it is a pleasure to meet one of the Ilowa knights.” Lara says after showing a little let down, “So, that means…”

“Pakt slept in.” I decide to answer with this, if that is what she is hesitant to ask about.

Lara responds to my words by covering her mouth with a closed hand and turning away a little. She seems a little amused and relieved by that.

“Have you any problems with your wounded today?” Esken asks, straight to business.

“Eh? No, we finished up last night before the storm hit. Only people seeking shelter are staying here.”

After shaking off the last of my robe’s snow I find the source of the odor hanging from the walls in bundles under the lamp holders. It is a broadleaf, likely from a shrub, that even dried releases a bitter smell.

“It is just you here?” Esken continues to ask Lara.

“One is sleeping and Patyr has left to ward homes from Mara the storm blows in.”

“I see,” Esken replies, “That explains all of the rull bush hanging here.”

“Rull bush?” I ask.

“Oh? You do not know of it Kordi?” Lara says with some surprise.

“Its not medicine, it is slightly poisonous.”

“That is what makes it good for warding off mara, the smell drives them away.”

Well, it sure does smell.

“The storm has blown in many mara then?” Esken asks.

“Yes, people began to enter the temple during the storm to seek refuge from the mara, others are suffering nightmares.”

“Won’t be good for moral, but the goblins should be suffering the same.” Esken adds.

I suppose the smell is comforting to some people, as if it assures them they are safe from a mahr. I do not think I could sleep well with the smell all night, even if I had to have a nightmare.

While heading down to the basement to stock my bag up with some supplies I may need later on I look back to find an awkward exchange between Esken and Lara. I am not sure what is going on, it is mostly Lara taking peeks at Esken and Esken responding with a cold, “what is it?”

In the basement I gather the usual bandages, faelin fungus, and fill a waterskin with clean water. I avoid using more hollip since there is very little left. I also check on the potions I had been brewing, they are either brewed to make vinegar or liquor.

The liquor does have a better taste when I sample a sip; however, I am concerned about the effects of drinking too much. Especially for myself as I am too young to hold a tolerance for it. Vinegar is a little odd at first, I have grown more accustom to eating pickled food during my stay in Calbin. So, the sourness is not so bad and it preserves the medicine as well.

Either way, I do not feel like consuming a lot of either potion types. If i make a fresh potion without preservatives I can handle consuming more at one time but I have to expect the potion to go bad after the day.

By the time I come back up the stairs the mood between Esken and Lara has become much more lively. Lara seems to have found a topic that Esken is interested in, both women received training and education for a deity.

However, their deities are very different. I caught some of this from their conversation as Esken explains about the martial school she had enrolled into. Because Ilowa is a motherly goddess of strength and valour her followers practice martial discipline.

In order to foster greater strength in their people, kridimirt nobles establish Ilowan schools to train their nobles in leadership and combat. There are seats for talented peasants and young adventurers which are actually free; however, the noble students hold authority.

According to Esken, the purpose can be summarised to give nobles the opportunity to build and lead a retinue of commoners that can help their position after school.

“Do you have your retinue?” Lara asks.

“No, I am a lower noble, by the end of my schooling in the Corrin School of Ilowa I had merged my retinue with a higher noble women to consolidate power.”

“I have heard that the Corrin school divided the girls and boys.”

“Correct, there are some Ilowan schools that do not do that; however, there are young men who try and use the retinue status to get concubines.”

“Is that so? Was it that bad?”

“A male senior did try to trick me into serving him when I had just enrolled, hoping I had not remembered the rules.”

The two also talk about some of the education there, Lara compared her own Faelin schooling. By size, the Corrin school of Ilowa is around five times as large as the school Lara had apprenticed in.

The school itself is not specifically for Faelin, somewhere east of the city Condrica there is a monastery she stayed at for a few years. There are apparently specific Faelin schools farther north, in the south of the Kainran mountains where Calbin is the nearest school that teaches healing is this monastery.

Lara also mentions the number of students at the place she studied was at least one hundred. While both women have an education, Esken’s martial schooling is very different from Lara’s healing and medicine studies.

I had found a place to sit down after cleaning the tools I still had from the night and relax for a while where there is no crowd of people. In the temple, we at least have twenty huddled around between the two fireplaces on each side of the temple.

The cold is blowing in just slightly, I noticed some coming through the main door. The first floor does remain very warm compared with the basement. Esken takes notice and speaks up.

“The next thing you planned was to work at the forge?”

“Oh yea.” I answer, “Do you think the forge is running in this storm?”

“We may find out.”

The temple doors open enough for another snow covered figure to make their way in. After brushing the snow off and lifting their hood we see it is Pakt.

“Good, you can take over.” Esken says as she rises from her seat.

Lara shows a smile which Pakt returns. However, as Esken approaches she adds.

“Take Kordi to the forge.”

The pink mood has been completely drained from Pakt as he is just getting his robe off. Now we get to go back out. Well, I feel a little for him, it is going to be cold and windy outside and part of me would not mind relaxing near a fire while inside.

Esken leads the way out of the temple before she splits off to head east, probably checking on the perimeter. Pakt takes the lead to travel west to the forge, I follow his steps as he breaks a path through the deep snow.

The walk feels a lot longer than normal because each step is made slow by the snow and wind. My eyes squint to keep any snow flakes from flying between my eyelids. With poor vision I have a hard time knowing if we are going the right way until I hear the faint sound of clanging metal through the howling wind.

The forge is running, faint glows come from the furnace mouths as fresh charcoal is added. We get closer to find the forge is well cleared of snow even though there are no walls around the forge to keep the snow out.

“Good to see someone is willing to work in a blizzard!” shouts Laro as Pakt and I approach.

My grey robe is only made more white from the snow, so I may be hard to pick out; however, Laro seems to spot me easily enough

“I have the time to do some more work.” I loudly reply to Laro.

He looks over to the bags of gobite near a table before saying, “The wind might blow your powder away, find some shelter to work with it.”

I nod, it makes sense, I thought the same when I just arrived at the forge. So, I gather up the gobite hammer, the bag of gobite powder I separated the non magic slag from, and I added some slag chunks I could use to get more magic minerals from. The only tool I need here is a file, I have a mortar and pestle at the temple.

I turn back to Pakt, he’s crossed his arms and hunched slightly to shelter himself from the wind. His mood is not pleased with the weather and I would rather not spend the day filing a chunk of metal in this storm. The forge workers are all huddled near the furnaces, I would have to work by the tables where it is cold.

“Let’s head back to the temple” I say to Pakt.

“Really?” he replies, picking his mood up, “Yea, we should hurry back.”

His pace picks up along the path back to the temple. I wish he would slow down a bit, not only has the path been snowed over by now but I am also hauling a lot of extra weight. Well, he does notice a little later before we move around a building and waits.

By the time we return to the temple my body has warmed up from hauling the gobite bag and hammer. Pakt opens the door for me to enter and I can brush myself off again. The stone floor is quite wet at this point, the snow brought in each time melts on the floor. I take care to avoid slipping in case it is that bad.

“You’re back?” Lara says, both glad and curious.

“It would be easier to do my work in shelter, I’ll be using the basement so the noise doesn’t bother everyone.” I reply, making my way through the people trying to get warm from the fires.

They did not seem too pleased that we keep opening the doors allowing cold wind inside but I do not enjoy the stale air combined with the rull bush smell. The basement at least smells like herbs and medicines, some vinegar now as my potion brewing is complete.

“Wait! You’re going down there?” Pakt interrupts.

I look back before replying, “Yeah, do you need to be there?”

It was a bit of a jab at his previous actions, the temple basement is sort of my workshop so I feel a little protective. I might feel bad about blocking him off if Lara was not agreeing with me. She jabs at his side so, he can only feel a little let down.

Onto my own work, well it is going to take a lot of time. I start by wrapping my hands to prevent blisters as I grate the file along the gobite hammer. The hammer is much harder than the armour pieces but it still flakes off from not being a solid alloy.

By the time my stomach tells me it is lunch time I have filed down over half of the hammer’s handle and my arms feel on fire. The head of the hammer is much thicker and I thought about starting there; however, it became much easier to hold the hammer’s head between my thighs.

This hold allows me to grind down the handle over a bowl while securing the hammer between my legs. I can then use both hands at the same time to use the large steel file. With both hands I can apply enough strength to flake off parts much faster.

Patyr has returned from warding the area and true to what I had hoped, there has been no fighting around Calbin. So, I can continue to focus on grinding down the hammer. Which I do after eating. For most people in Calbin, today is a sort of rest day and a few soldiers had stopped by to receive some kind of blessing against the cold.

By the time I finish grinding the whole hammer down my stomach clock tells me it is around dinner time. The last part of the hammer is more difficult to use the file on because I have no way to easily hold it. The best option I have is to pound it so the small piece breaks up.

With a big pile of gobite powder I decide to finish up sorting it before eating by pouring water into a big bowl and sifting out the light slag and magic minerals. With the minerals and silver separated out I dry and add the powder into the main bag.

Some extra magic minerals from the slag pieces can easily be added, the slag is considerably easier to file than the hardened gobite. I add enough to be reasonably close to the desired ratio between one to one and one to two. I have not measured the concentration of the well made gobite I ground down, I can tell it had little slag inside.

However, the ratio of silver to minerals seemed normal, a two to one ratio. By adding more minerals I at least reach a ratio of one to one which improved mana focus, if I go beyond a one to two ratio I will start seeing a loss of both mana enhancement and focus.

I make my way back upstairs to the main temple floor. Lara greets me with some surprise.

“You have been down there for a long time, any progress?’

“I just finished, is it late?”

“Very” she answers, “if the storm was not raging it would be night again.”

“I did not notice, I only felt hungry the moment I finished.”

“I see you were very focused then.”

After thinking about it I did feel myself being very hungry now so, I looked to the fireplaces. Both had stews boiling for the different visitors, I grabbed a bowl to join in. I also notice Pakt is relaxed, but bored, which is probably a good thing.

I sit down near him while my stew cools.

“The gobite is all ground down and sorted, I will need to go to the forge and find Laro for the next step.”

Pakt adjusts himself on the bench before replying, “Okay, won’t be a problem.”

This day is feeling shorter than usual, I suppose spending my whole day grinding metal down would take my mind off of the time. After eating I gather the bag of gobite powder, now the size of my chest, along with the file which is starting to become worn.

The load is a little lighter, I am leaving behind the slag powder after all, but the snow is accumulating outside. Enough has piled up that the windows of the first floors are difficult to see. The roads and paths are sort of cleared, I do find a few adults shoveling snow from main routes.

The snow along the path Pakt and I take is still about knee height. Without the paths I would be swimming in snow right now, those with snowshoes are having less problems. I probably do not need a pair myself unless I plan to be outside most of the time.

We navigate our way through the snow piles to reach the forge as Laro is working on finishing another cuirass. While I was near the southern woods yesterday I took notice of the variety of clothing and armour the people had as I either treated them or as I saw them pass.

Very few are wearing something like a steel cuirass, there are certainly bronze ones around; however, I would say that these are the minority. Most wear a wool quilted jacket called a gambeson. The heavy bulim wool quilts have been stuffed with usually wool scraps for extra padding and insulation.

Sometimes the outside has leather layered over the gambeson. For myself, I have a leather cuirass with a supporting layer of bulim wool underneath. This does not protect my arms or upper legs like the long gambeson, since the were no gambesons in the armoury I assume that it is a more popular choice.

It would be much warmer as well, my arms and legs are more likely to get cold than my torso. My fur robe is not completely able to hold in enough heat along my arms and legs.

I approach Laro while he is reheating the plate of steel armour. He notices the big bag of powder that molds itself around my arms.

“Ready for the furnace?” he asks.

“I need to make a crucible first.”

“Make a mold while it is in the fire.”

I nod to confirm I hear him over the wind, the only unfortunate part about making a crucible right now is that the clay is frozen. Instead of heating it in the oven, which will dry the clay out, I have enough mana to use heat magic. By thawing it this way I should be able to retain more moisture in the clay.

While the crucible heats in the furnace to harden I sit down to think about how I will make the mold. I decide to ask Pakt and also Laro who left the cuirass plate to his son for polishing.

“How do make a good hammer?”

“Ehhh…” Pakt ponders, “Guess its gotta have a strong head?”

Laro gives an indifferent glance toward Pakt before answering, “The balance should be higher, around the neck of the hammer. For a war hammer, a spike on the other end is useful for making it either a hammer or pick. Both are good against armour.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Well, the hammer dints, puts shock through the armour, and can even crack the metal. Especially frail gobite. The pick; however, is better for punching a hole in the armour or digging through openings. So, the pick end should be curved like a claw.”

“Do I just… make the mold like what I want?”

“No, just make the mold about the size and shape, we’ll hammer it later to a better shape.”

I remove the cooked crucible and pour in the gobite powder using my robe to shelter against the strong winds. Placing a lid of clay before I place it back into the furnace will prevent anything from escaping.

“I guess I will need to estimate the amount of sithril I will get from that.”

“Should be around the same as the goblin hammer, if you still remember its length. Just have the case about the length needed, we can always shape the result later.”

I know the gobite powder will not take as long to melt down as iron so, I decide to talk with Pakt about weapons to see what I can learn.

“What kind of weapon do you prefer?”

“Sword.” he replies, “I was trained with a bow when I was young; however, when Laro began producing more iron and steel I was able to get a sword of my own.”

“What makes a sword so good?”

“Well… I first heard a lot of amazing things about them, nobles and heroes arming themselves with dvaren steel swords and cutting through anything. Then mythril swords started to be made. It is a sword with the strength of steel and power of sithril.”

“Is a sword that much better?”

“When I first used a sword I thought it was a little underwhelming. Probably, I was too into the songs and stories. It does not strike as well as an axe or stab as well as a spear. The reach is shorter too; however, a sword is versatile. If it is made well you can always take advantage of the other weapon’s weakness.”

“Hmm.”

“The sword’s balance is closer to the handle.” Pakt draws his sword out, balancing the blade along the point where the hilt touches the blade, “This actually makes it easier to pull the sword back from an attack.”

“But it does not strike as strong?”

“No, an axe or hammer has the weight further to the tip which helps give power but it is harder to withdraw after attacking. In a fight that can leave you open to counter attack.”

“So, how would a hammer work in a fight?”

“Well… it would break a lot of bones. Striking the head will stun or knock someone out. If you miss a swing, the best thing to do would be to use the momentum to loop the hammer back around.”

Pakt gestured this with his sword as he made a swing, then used his wrists to redirect the sword back over his head to ready another attack. It is a circular motion like spinning a rock sling.

I feel a chill over my body as I yawn. The day is very late by now, I look toward Pakt and see he is also yawning.

“Time to sleep already, it is not like I can complain, I spent the day laying around.” he says, “A night snack and it will be a good day.”

I check on the crucible of sithril, the case I made has also been added into the furnace to cook and harden. The case is hollow on the inside in a rough shape of a metal hammer. I made the mold by combining two halves shaped separately with half the hammer imprinted on each side.

Hopefully the case does not break in half while baking. The sithril inside the crucible is melting down with only a tenth of the remaining material floating on the top, unmelted but very hot.

It does not take long before the sithril is completely melted down, it is also in time for the case to be fully cooked as well. Though, the case is also hot, I have to use forceps to hold the case in place.

Laro and his main assistant Blidin decide to help by using forceps to hold the crucible filled with sithril. They pour into the mouth of the case until the case is full, there is a little left over so, they pour the remaining into a small pile of ash after Laro used his finger to draw a groove inside.

The hot liquid sithril filled into the small groove and stayed within the ash. It seems like a convenient way to make a billet. By this point I feel the fatigue from having little sleep during the night. Pakt and I leave around the time Laro and his main forge crew are also leaving.

While the sithril cools in the mold case Pakt and I make our way back to the manor. More snow piles up along the paths, part of me wonders how much snow will be around in the morning.

The only things left to do before sleeping is to have a snack and wash the day’s sweat. Inside the manor there is no sign of Varrel, Esken, or Farl. Pakt asks the servants if they are around, the servant answers that they are still outside, making sure the southern defenses are maintained in the snow.

After that I wrap myself up in silk sheets and fur blankets to sleep. Even with the sound of wind howling through Calbin I do not have a problem getting into the mood to sleep. This might be that I am less sensitive to the wind after spending time outside in the storm. There is some comfort in that.

I only find the smell of rull bush uncomfortable. Patyr had been through the manor with his dry bitter bush.

When I dream the setting is in Laro’s forge, only without the snow. Equally jarring is that I break open the hammer’s mold case to find a perfectly formed hammer. There is no way the mold would result in the hammer looking that nice.

My sleep ends up being very good, nothing disturbed me during the night and I naturally wake up. The harsh sounds of the storm outside continued through the night, which also caused no problems for my sleep.

I was very tired so, I welcome a good night’s rest. After putting on my boots and robe I make my way downstairs, the mood in the dining room is not as bright as I feel. Noticing this, I carefully find a seat and smile to a servant who nods before turning to the kitchen.

The time I arrived at the table is pretty late, the others are mostly finished. Pakt also arrived before I had and there is no conversation between Farl and Varrel or Esken. Maybe it has something to do with the storm?

I quickly try to catch up eating so Pakt does not have to sit around for too long, I would also like to see what outside is like. When I finish eating and gather my things, equipped the leather cuirass and slide my simple shield onto my back I am ready to go outside.

Or at least I am ready to try and go outside.

There is a shoveled path; however, the snow is actually packed into ramps. I find people are actually using shields to press down the snow along the main paths. These ramps rise up to almost half a single floor of a building. The lighter snow banks stand above the first floor so, I cannot even see over the banks.

The height has doubled while I slept. Because it would be too hard to shovel snow from the ground over the banks, they seem to be just packing the snow. There is some strange sense of shelter from this, the storm’s wind will not blow down into these sort of trenches.

“They sure did not joke about the snow.” Pakt says as he peeks over the snow bank.

“Will we get lost?”

“Doubt it, a right at the manor and someone should have packed the snow to the temple doors.”

I have a much easier time following this packed path to the temple than I did yesterday, the trenches are wide enough for two people to stand beside each other. I still cannot really see over the snow piled to the sides, sometimes I see the roof and second floors of nearby buildings.

Either way, the temple is easy to find as a well packed trench leads to it, splitting into two other directions along the main road. The temple somewhat faces north where the northern palisade runs. However, the log walls of the palisade are not even visible anymore.

Opening the door this time does not let as much cold inside from the shelter of the high snow banks. I do not stay very long, I want to check for any important work before heading to the forge. Pakt is a little disappointed in that; however, he notices how full the temple is of people seeking shelter and cold blessings.

I do ask a little about the cold blessings. I have not found any books detailing a lot about the blessings. According to Patyr, blessings are taught at specific places with higher skilled teachers. Patyr himself has learned some basics; though, he has specialized more in healing so, he hesitates about teaching anyone blessings.

The cold blessing everyone seems to want helps insulate the body from the cold wind, like some sort of mana blanket. It is popular with scouts and hunters who are going to venture outside for a while and cannot expect to find shelter or set up a fire for their patrol.

Pakt and I leave again to find our way to the forge, the shortcut we used to take is not maintained so, we have to follow the main road around Calbin. This brings us along the northern palisade heading east to the eastern entrance.

Then we take a left to find the stone guard tower and mercenary building near the forge. The forge roof has actually been shoveled along with the snow blown underneath. This results in a very high barrier of snow around the forge that actually blocks the wind from blowing in.

It was hard to figure out what direction the wind had been coming from; however, now that less of the wind is funneled between buildings I can tell the storm blowing wind from the east. The snow is blowing overhead but very little has found its way inside the trench.

The conditions in the forge have actually improved, I find Laro and his group already working without having to cover up as much. Their furnaces should be able to run hotter without cold air constantly blowing all around.

When Laro notices me he digs out the sithril hammer mold that had buried a bit under the snow. Ice is covering the clay casing, which is a pretty common thing inside the forge. The warmth from the furnaces have melted a lot of snow on the roof resulting in long icicles hanging around the roof.

Much of the ice has been chipped away and piled up around the forge. I close in near Laro, his son Cobin holds a chisel over the frozen clay case. With a few strikes on the chisel with a wooden hammer, Laro breaks the mold apart.

Inside the broken pieces of clay and ice, the hammer’s rough figure lays. Laro pulls it from the debris, examining the metal. It is not silver, instead like most sithril right out of the crucible, the metal is darker and needs cleaning and polishing.

“Now we heat it and hammer it to the right shape and hardness.” Laro says.

He sticks the hammer inside the second furnace with a pair of forceps.

“How do we do that?” I ask.

“Heating softens the metal, striking hardens it. Too hard and it will break easy, too soft and it will bend easy. Unlike steel though, sithril will not bend back into its tempered shape.”

Within a few minutes the sithril becomes hot enough that I can see a red glow. Laro pulls it from the fire and places it on the anvil. He looks to me and gestures to a hammer near by. I pick the hammer up and like the steel I had worked before I strike down on the sithril.

I already notice that the sithril gives easier to my strikes so, I hold back to avoid overdoing it. Laro nods with a “good” after I adjust my strikes. He rotates the hammer after I land a few strikes so I hit a different side.

As long as I keep hitting around the same part of the anvil, Laro adjusts the hammer slightly to determine where the metal needs work. I notice he is prioritizing the parts that are warm and have black flakes forming.

“The sithril came out clean, not a lot of slag is being worked out. We can be done faster because of this.” Laro comments.

I do notice few sparks are coming out from my strikes, when an area is not sparking much Laro adjusts the hammer. We work our way from the top to the bottom, reheating as we go down. Because of the flat anvil, the shape of the hammer’s handle is very square.

The tough part comes with the hammer’s head, the hammer part is pretty forward; however, the spike is done differently. Laro places the part meant to be shaped into the talon spike along a rounded point on the side of the anvil.

When I hit the spike, Laro adjusts the angle and rotation of the hammer so my next strike hits slightly away from the last. After a few strikes I begin to notice the form of the spike is curving and rounding. If he was not holding the hammer I would have just make the spike a narrow pyramid of sorts, flat on four sides.

“Hmmm…” Laro grumbles, “I still do not like this material for a hammer.”

He strikes the sithril hammer against the anvil, bending the handle’s shaft slightly. He reheats the handle before I can hammer it back to being straight.

That is when I notice something, I had seen it a little before, the forge here signs their works by chiseling a little bit of their steel out of the metal. Then, with a different, darker type of iron or steel they hammer pieces back into the pattern they chisel out. After heating the metal and working it the metals weld together.

When completed and the sword is polished, the off colour metal comes through with Laro’s forge initials. I point to that and say to Laro, “what if we put a steel spine in?”

Laro turns to look before standing up and digging out pieces of scrap steel strips from a nearby box. He finds a few pieces and a thin chisel, handing me the sithril hammer.

“Hold it down.” he says.

Along the flat length of the handle, Laro chisels a groove thinner than my pinkie finger. He continues up to the base of the hammer and even chisels a bit out from inside the hammer’s head. He flips the hammer to do the same on the front side.

We then place the strips of steel along the grooves and tap the ones that fit in. By mixing the different lengths we manage to run two lines of steel along the front and back of the handle. Laro places the hammer back into the fire, the heat should weld the metals together enough.

Laro watches the colour of the metal before pulling it out at the right temperature, we continue hammering it into shape. The result is much better, as I strike the handle I can feel it gives less than it did before.

Laro reheats it one more time so we can work out the smaller details. After that, he takes it to the water bucket, breaks the ice layer on the water’s surface before dipping the hammer in.

“Does that help wit the sithril?” I ask.

“Mostly for the steel spines.” Laro replies, he strikes the cooled hammer on the anvil and this time it does not bend, “worked out well.”

He places the steaming sithril hammer on a table before finding the grinding and polishing stones. While I do not have much practice with that I have a decent understanding about what to do.

“I will also give you some leather strips here for making a handle, just wrap them around the base for better grip.” he adds, digging some leather strips from another box.

I sit at the table, Pakt has also found himself a spot nearby, wrapping himself up in his cloak. I had warmed up from my forge work while Pakt has been sitting around, occasionally walking the forge perimeter.

The sithril hammer is still warm after the quenching and has a very dull appearance. I set to work placing a rough brick-like grind stone on the table. With the hammer in both hands I slide the hammer’s handle along the grind stone a few times and check how well it worked.

The dullness is mostly removed; however, the rough stone leaves scratches along the metal so I will need to go over the metal again with a smoother grind stone. For now I keep going over the rest of the hammer.

“Looks like the storm is clearing.” Pakt says.

I had not noticed he left the forge to patrol while I focused on polishing the hammer’s head. Looking around I can find a lot less snow being blown around and the sound of the wind is softening.

“That should help our patrols.” Laro adds.

“Lunch is here.” one of the forge workers shouts.

As the dark clouds pass over the horizon leaving thin white clouds we see that Laro’s family have came over with baskets of food. I know their food is prepared really well so I feel somewhat anxious. Laro turns towards me though.

“Join in.” he also nods to Pakt who eagerly jumps to his feet.

Inside the baskets are cooked slices of bread with a mixture of pickled vegetables, dried meat slices, and a paste made of boiled nuts. The others spread a little of the paste onto a slice before layering some pickled vegetables and meat on top.

The cooked bread is crunchy with the taste of herbs, likely some fat was used to cook the bread it. The nearly burnt fat has a deliciously salty taste to its crunch. It does not take us long to empty the four baskets that are brought.

“That was good!” Pakt proclaims.

The others chat and joke with each other about the quality of food and what their favourite is. I feel eager to finish the polishing work on the sithril hammer, the softer grindstones are making it shine brilliantly.

Besides the large brick sized grindstones there are a few thin billet sized stones that work for fine work. These stones are very handy for dealing with the neck of the hammer and smoothing the curve on the talon spike.

Movement around Calbin also picks up as people begin moving about. I see families carrying clay pots for water or pickled vegetables and wrapped bags of meat or bread. The narrow trenches do restrict some of the traffic flow; however, the ones disrupting the traffic are groups of militia crowding through in small waves.

Pakt notices this so, I decide to ask, “What are they running about for?”

“Ah- They need to strengthen their old positions.”

“In the south?” I ask this because most of the groups are going south.

“Yeah, probably planning for another patrol, we should get ready soon.” Pakt answers, picking up his shield.

“I should at least least visit the temple to let someone know if we are going to the south field again.”

While I gather my bag I look over at the hammer and decide to take it with me along with a small grindstone.

“Might as well take this, I could be bored for a while.”

“Sounds good, we will go the route back, should avoid the south roads to avoid traffic.”

I hand the head of the sithril hammer over my left shoulder while lightly holding the handle with my left hand. The hammer’s head is about the size of my closed fist while the length of a forearm.

There is no leather handle on it yet so, as we walk I start wrapping the strip around the lower half of the sithril hammer shaft. I walk a little clumsy as I multitask; at least the wrapping is easy. The knot proves more difficult to manage while walking.

I decide to stop along the trench, we have passed the corner where the west Calbin entrance splits between the south and west roads. We will continue to head west to reach the temple.

I stop along the way because the knot is giving me trouble. I place the hammer down to properly get enough leverage with my hands to tighten the knot. Pakt turns to see what I am doing, shrugging at me before saying,

“We can do this late-”

He is cut off from the sound of a sentry who was looking over the trench’s edge moments before he falls back into the trench. He writhes a little, looking at his left shoulder. Sticking out from it is a goblin arrow.

“GOBLINS! NORTH!” another sentry shouts.

Pakt has already drawn his shield and sword, he says to me, “keep down, don’t look over the trench.”

I move myself behind him to reach the fallen sentry who holds his hands close to the arrow but hesitates to touch it. The loud sounds of a horn blare from the nearby stone tower. I kneel down next to the arrow wound and grab it. The sentry does not flinch much and the arrow is loose

The wool gambeson has caught most of the arrow before it could break much skin. I quickly stop the tiny amount of bleeding quickly as a comforting gesture.

“You’re good.” I tell him.

He nods and pulls himself back up, finding his bow and grabbing a few of the spilled arrows to hold in his drawing hand. The sentry peeks over the trench and fires an arrow off.

Then, the sound of a howling chorus pierces through the air as a rabid herd of goblins must be charging towards us.

“How the hell are they running on fresh snow?!” The sentry shouts.

Pakt anxiously responds, “Snowshoes, we’re not the only ones who use them.”

Pakt turns to me and gestures with his sword, “Get back Kordi.”

Behind Pakt I catch the sight of a militia peeking their head over the trench as a wave of arrows darts overhead. The militiaman takes a grazing cut to his cheek that causes him to crouch down and hold his cheek.

I approach and ask to see. The wound is not deep so I quickly patch it up as well.

“HERE THEY COME!” I hear Pakt yell, “IF YOU HAVE A SPEAR, BRACE IT!”

The howling becomes intense as I realize that the snowfall must have fallen high enough to cover the short log palisade. The goblins can just run overtop without worry about the steep slope. The people at the trench fire arrows rapidly over before ducking and notching another arrow.

Exchanging arrows from the goblin side return over the trench or land low and hit the trench lip, knocking snow around. At the trench I only see around twenty lined up, with a few just arriving.

From over the trench a goblin emerges, covered in metal and leather with two arrows punctured into the armour. Pakt has positioned himself to stand in the goblin’s way, the goblin is holding a short thin spear it throws at Pakt. Pakt angles his shield and deflects the light spear away.

The goblin draws a short sword-like dagger before jumping towards Pakt who braces the hilt of his sword against the edge of his shield to reinforce his hold. Just before contact, Pakt twists his body and slashes at the goblin’s right armpit.

The weight of the goblin with Pakt’s shield hold drives the blade through the leather covering the goblin’s armpit, following through to sever the shoulder. Pakt then presses his shield against the goblin before he continues his swing through the goblin’s neck, decapitating it.

One of the militia at the trench steps back into the trench to notch another arrow, a goblin seizes this opportunity to leap into the trench. The militia looses his arrow quickly; however, the draw did not look complete and the arrow only sticks into the goblin’s armour.

Before the goblin can trust its sharp dagger Pakt has repositioned himself to thrust his own sword into the goblin’s neck from the side. I turn around to see if I can move back somewhere; however, on that side three more goblins have made their way to the trench line while covered in a few arrows.

Two are impaled by spears while the third manages to pull a militiaman down; however, as it raises its dagger to stab, a militia woman kicks it in the head. The militiaman takes this opportunity to draw his own dagger and stab it through the goblin’s chest plates where the heart should be.

Both then hold the goblin down and slit its throat, spraying blood along the trench wall. In the corner of my eye as I turn back I notice a goblin jumping down into the trench near me. Behind it, Pakt is occupied with another goblin, the one near me rises up and turns to face me.

The goblin wears a crude helmet likely made of bronze from the greenish rust worn over a leather cowl. Smoother fabric is worn over the goblin’s face, the fabric is poorly loomed together resulting in visible gaps in the fabric.

Ice has formed all around the fabric where the goblin’s breath steams through with each breath. Only a small part of the goblin’s face is exposed allowing its eyes to see, even further down the goblin’s body there are no open gaps showing exposed skin.

Crude bronze armour covers the goblin’s chest, forearms, belly, and thighs. Beneath the armour and around the joints are covered with leather and fur, the goblin’s feet are strapped to a flat woven basket of branches.

These crude shoes are similar to the snowshoes I see the patrols wear, which explains how the goblins crossed the northern approach’s snow field.

Time seems slow for a moment as I realize that it is going to charge me, the militia behind are not close enough to help either. I know my magic cannot harm it internally so, I will use it externally.

I grip my right hand into the trench snow, I will just have to gather a ball of snow and boil it. That should at least stun it.

As I do this, the goblin takes its first steps, leaning in to run fast.

I can’t boil the snow fast enough, I know that well enough. Just throwing it now will have to do. When I release the ball, it is liquid at this point. I have melted it but not boiled it and I doubt that will hurt.

Instead of melting I should have compacted it into something harder, it may have done some damage. So, I ready the shield on my back and the sithril hammer, I will at least be able to block a few hits and maybe get a swing in.

Pakt turns to see my situation and moves in to assist yet the goblin is already at full speed. It runs head on into the water ball, flinching a little from the surprise but not slowing. It is covered in enough clothing to be insulated from the water.

However, as the goblin’s heavy breath comes out as fog I notice the water is starting to freeze a little on the metal plates. The temperature is very cold outside right now, the liquid water freezes very fast and my own breath often forms icicles on my eyelashes.

So, I point the sithril hammer out and without just blowing wind at it I try to suck out as much heat from that wind as possible. The blast of very cold air collides with the goblin as it stands three steps away from reaching me.

“Hiik-!”

The sound of groaning and cracking comes from the goblin, now stopped. Its eyes are frozen shut and it tries to move inside its leather and metal armour. The frozen water has hardened the leather around its joints making its movements very stiff.

The goblin reels back to free its movements, cracking pieces of leather split apart liberating its mobility. Even the goblin’s breath has completely frozen the mouth area of its fabric mask.

A quick slash at the back of its neck and Pakt decapitates this goblin as well. His visible clouds of breath are now rapid. I notice his eyes and hair sparkle from small bits of ice.

“Damn cold, what you just did.” he says.

Ah- He was in the path of that cold blast of air. At least he is not wet when that happened.

Clamouring fills the air as the sound of banging metal and howling goblins picks up from the north again. Pakt’s shoulders slouch as if he wants to say, “really? more.” Arrows continue to soar overhead, landing into trenches or hitting against the buildings.

From behind the sound of steps comes closer, I look to see a line of more hardened looking militia come towards us. I step to the side with Pakt to let them pass. The militia reinforcements number around another twenty on this side. To the west, I see another group over twenty arrive.

The trench is getting pretty packed now.

“Pakt, what are you doing here?”

I turn back to see Varrel has arrived with the group from the east.

“Kordi and I were making our way to the temple when the goblins suddenly attacks from the north.”

“Its going to get worse here, get back.” Varrel orders.

Pakt nods and sheaths his sword before closing in behind me. I turn back to Varrel and show him the sithril hammer.

“I havn’t polished it or tested it,”

Varrel gives the hammer a glance before taking it, “Time to find out.”

Pakt begins to pressure me to move from behind as the goblin clamour reaches its height.

“They have packed the snow down with that first wave.” I manage to catch Varrel say that before the noise became too loud.

“READY!” Varrel yells, from a distance down the line I hear another voice shout “ready” as well.

The line of archers notches their arrows, they must not be close enough to do proper damage to the armoured goblins so they wait.

The clamour of metal banging against metal dies down giving rise to rapid drumming as of many feet pound the ground: a massive charge is coming. Howls pierce the sky again as arrows occasionally drop down from overhead.

“LOOSE!” Varrel yells to set off a wave of arrows.

He prepares his own shield, the same kind we all use but now he holds a sithril hammer. On his side, Varrel has two swords longer than most so I feel a little confused why he is using a short hammer.

I do recall the hammer is good against armour; however, these goblins wear a lot of leather with some plates. Pakt seemed to have little problem killing goblins with his short sword so, I felt a little concerned that Varrel would use a shorter weapon when I experienced that longer reaching weapons are easier to use.

In return, a shower of arrows comes from the goblin side. These arrows drop from a high angle suggesting to me the goblin archers are far away. I am safe in the trench but a lot of arrows falling around is very intimidating either way, I brace my shield just in case.

Varrel pulls himself out of the trench and holds the sithril hammer low near his knee while covering himself with his militia shield. I feel some mana concentrating from him before he swings the hammer up.

Following the swing bursts a strong blast of air, far greater than the one I had done earlier. Its effect is visible from my position in a trench, a cloud of misty snow has become uplifted ahead of Varrel. In a few seconds the sound of trees being hit by the burst of wind reaches my ears, the cloud of snow spreads along the northern horizon as the goblin war cry breaks down.

Fewer arrows from the goblin side as the blast Varrel has done blinded the goblin archers. Our own archers continue firing at direct angles into the charging goblins. The mirts in the trench with spears and swords begin to climb out of the trench, bracing for a fight.

Contact begins when a spearman jabs his spear point into a charging goblin nearby. The fight breaks out as other goblins attempt to attack the spearman; however, there is a sword and shield armed mirt nearby who intercepts.

Along the northern line the arrow ridden goblins connect with the mirt defenders. I find a better position to see the situation, Pakt has already taken interest in looking instead of running. What catches my attention is when a heavier armoured goblin enters view, arrows aimed at it seem to shatter like they are made of ice.

From the colour and texture it is gobite armour, a magic effect must be doing that to the arrows. After emerging from the snow fog the heavy goblin prioritizes its charge towards Varrel. The two recognize each other as priority threats and position themselves to stand off.

Varrel runs in with his shield held at an angle towards the heavy goblin, the goblin in turn lifts a hammer of gobite. Unlike the gobite hammer I ground down, this one has a wood-like handle with gobite head, no spike on the other end.

When the heavy goblin brings down the hammer’s swing toward Varrel, Varrel adjusts his shield to almost point the edge of his round shield at the goblin. When the hammer makes contact, the shallow angle of impact allows Varrel to deflect the hammer to his left, opening the way to the goblin.

Varrel brings his hammer high up before striking down on the goblin’s skull before the goblin can use one of its arms to grab him. At the moment of impact a wave of something like air or sound explodes out from the goblin.

The goblin falls limp to the ground as if its body is a boneless bag of paste. Around the fight, goblins hesitate to challenge Varrel after witnessing what he did; however, after being hit by an arrow they compose themselves and charge. Towards someone else though.

Goblin archers begin to emerge from the foggy snow to support the goblin charge only to find most of the mirt defenders have overcome the attack and are running down the northern slope. The goblin archers fire at least a single arrow in panic before they are cut into and scatter.

Our counter attack is actually smaller than the number of their archers yet the archers scream out in surprise. Some turn around and flee while others stand divided to be cut down by pairs of mirts.

I begin looking around to find a few of the defenders are dragging their wounded into the trench. The temple is nearby but I decide to run to them and patch up their wounds. One in particular was very nasty, what seemed to be a bronze pick had been lodged into a mercenary’s shoulder.

Fortunately the spike did not hit his heart and damage to his bones is not very bad but the wound still bled a lot. I did not see many pick shaped weapons on the goblins, most had spears and short stabbing swords. As such, the kind of wounds from these weapons are common.

The thick wool does a very good job at preventing the bronze point from driving too deep into the flesh. Therefore, I did not find much internal damage to mend, just cut skin and muscle.

I am pretty surprised that the attack has not caused many serious injuries and there are even no deaths. The defending mirts begin cleaning up the trench, piling the goblins up after stripping their armour and weapons. I follow Pakt after finishing the last wound as he decided to help haul the dead goblins.

Compared to the koblin, goblins have no body fur and a thinner skin, pale in comparison. Their skin colour varies a little, the very light skin can come with different colour tones between pink, green, and blue. All are very light and hard to tell the skin tone until I look closer at it.

Goblins are also shorter than koblins by about a foot, their stance seemed to be less erect than the koblins which makes the difference in height more pronounced. Their bodies are no butchered though and just piled up to freeze in the snow.

“Do we use the goblin bodies for anything?” I decide to ask Pakt.

“Huh? Hell no, unless you want to shit a river.” he replies, grossed by the thought.

“They are poisonous?”

“No, just nasty, its the stuff they eat. Cave moss and fungus makes their meat taste like shit, which they use to grow their food. Then their skin is too thin to use for leather unlike koblins. Koblins at least eat similar things as we do, meat, fruit, and veggies.”

Pakt moves towards one of the loot piles nearby before continuing.

“I’ve heard that goblin blood and bone can be used for alchemy because of the goblin’s greater magic ability over koblins, aside from that, we’d normally burn ‘em. Hard to burn with all this snow so they’ll have to stay frozen over the winter… ah, here you go.”

Pakt presents me with a crude leather sheath and a bronze goblin sword. The sword is a little different than usual, most goblin blades are wide by the handle and narrow to a sharp point at the tip. This sword widens near the tip before tapering at the point.

Rough representation of a bronze sword, I've also been studying some references on swords.

The bronze is rusty in parts of the blade, suggesting the bronze is not very good as mixing tin into the copper will form harder bronze that does not rust very well. The green rust is mostly going to form around spots where the copper is not mixed well with the tin.

The entire sword is a single piece of bronze and while it is not iron or steel, bronze is much easier to fix. It bends instead of cracking like harder steel. I also have lots of experience repairing blunt bronze blades with just my magic and some heat from a fire.

“It feels like it is a better sword, there is more weight in the tip, good for slashing.” Pakt adds.

I work on strapping the sheath’s belt around my waist, which is also pretty worn. Goblin leather does not seem to be very high quality but it will work out for now.

“We will meet with Farl when you are done.” I hear Varrel say from behind.

Pakt stands up to respond, “Alright, is he at the southern outpost?”

“Should be, be sure both of you come along.”

With that, the first real attack seems to be over, I follow after Varrel and Pakt after I sheath the bronze sword. To my left I notice a familiar figure waving casually to me as he kneels down by a pile of loot with some other mercenaries. It is Arga, cleaning his gear, he seems to have been further west along the line.

It is good to see things are going well, everyone is in good spirit as I walk past militia, mercenaries, and adventurers debriefing each other on the fight. We make our way through Calbin’s packed snow trenches to the southern field. I suppose the day is not over yet.

Author's notes:

So, I think I've built up to the siege enough, time for some combat!

While Kordi's story could have taken a more peaceful, medical/healer route, I am personally more interested in combat. Been that way for a long time, but I do enjoy adding a lot more dynamic layers to the world.