The Markwell Misunderstanding I: Inquiries at the University

by **Aedifalse** on March 24th, 2015, 12:16 pm

515-SPRING-02

One of the very first things Aedi heard about was the esteemed University of Zeltiva. While Sultros had their own institutes of learning, it did not have a centralized, formal academy teaching a large variety of skills in the form of the University. From his inquiry at the Docks, it seemed that most people of note held a Certificate of Completion from the University, a piece of paper that signified a guaranteed proficiency in a specified skill-set.

A Certificate of Completion would most certainly guarantee employment in your trade of choice, the guard had laughed. Though you need a fair bit of Nilos to enrol!

Strolling up the grand doors of the learning institute, through asking of directions from the numerous students around, he found his way to the office of inquiry with what seemed to be a reception counter for potential students such as himself.

"Welcome to the University of Zeltiva," The lady stated warmly. "How may I help you?"

"Greetings Ma'am," The Isur rumbled, "Might this illustrious University impart the knowledge of metalworking?"

"Yes, of course!" Came the swift reply. "We can teach the art of blacksmiths, the knowledge of smelting, and the skill of forging weapons and armors."

Aedi was intrigued. Even while in Sultros, due to his high affinity for magecrafting, his education in metalworking had been rather unsystematic. Here the promise of a holistic education lay! Not to mention the importance of having this certain piece of paper in Zeltivan society, something he should take note of if he wanted to fully integrate into the community.

"Might I enquire as to the cost...?" He asked cautiously. The guard's warning did not go unheeded!

"30 nilos per class per semester. However, if you are to embark on a Certificate path, you gain access to the student dormitories. Based on the number of courses required to qualify, certificates will cost you a total of 180 to 210 nilos depending," She added helpfully.

The Isur ruminated deeply. The costs were certainly astronomical, yet the potential benefits promised much more as well. It was a form of reputation and fame that could be essentially bought!

"What are the-" He began, intending to ask about the details of the metalworking courses.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity, and a large, bulky man swept by. The human male towered over Aedi with a stocky mass of 6', and his callused palms and rough arms signalled a man of physical labor. Sweeping his eyes across the expansive room, his eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on the noticeable black arm of the enquiring student.

"An Isur, eh?" He boomed heartily. "I was looking for one of my students anyway!"

"Um, professor-" The reception lady interrupted, perhaps in an attempt to alleviate Aedi's confusion.

"Yes I know he's not one of mine! But a student's a student! They should always be eager to learn. And I'm pretty sure Isurs would be scrambling to be at the forefront of opportunity!" The human dismissed her good-naturedly, using his overwhelming size to steer Aedi towards the door.

"Sir, I must-" The dwarfed Isur stammered in order to clear a certain misconception.

"Isurs are the best for this task, don't worry!" The man laughed, clasping Aedi's shoulders reassuringly.

Misunderstanding indeed.

by **Aedifalse** on March 25th, 2015, 5:50 am

Soon, Aedi found himself steered into a familiar dark place. The random spark and detritus floated gently in the air as an overwhelming smell of rust and molten metal pervaded the atmosphere.

"The College of Applied Skills' very own smithy!" The strange man declared. "Though nowhere near as practical as the ones over at the Armed Scholar, we do have a simulacrum for the purposes of teaching apprentices!"

It was an extremely basic, stripped down version of an actual forge, though it had facilities and equipment capable of forging basic items. Aedi noted that it was nowhere near what he was used to in Sultros, though to compare a learning facility's technological sophistication to that of the race that practically invented blacksmithing was probably not a very good idea.

The man probably noticed the gleam of familiarity in Aedi's eyes when he took in the sight of the room, and he grunted in approval.

"I am guessing you must be a student of another college, or if you are part of us practical people you aren't in any of the metalworking courses I teach. Shame though, being an Isur," The mountainous human grumbled by way of introduction. "I am Garath Markwell of the College of Applied Skills. I teach the courses relating to blacksmithing, metalsmithing, weaponsmithing and the forging of metal-based armors, though I sometimes dabble in other materials."

"Aedifex Aghanim of Sultros," The young Isur cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that-"

"Sultros? Why you would have no problems at all then!" Markwell boomed heartily. Pointing at the anvil at the middle of the room next to a bellowing forge, he continued, "See that half-finished blade over there? The student that was supposed to be helping me with it decided not to continue his courses in Spring, so it would be great to finish this quickly. Since you came along..."

Despite the misunderstanding, Aedi was never one to push aside the opportunity of getting to work with metals, of which his passion in was only rivalled by his intuition for magecraft.

"What do you need?" He asked quickly.

"There we have it! Coming around soon, aren't we? Excellent!" Markwell chuckled. "I know that Isurs can mold objects without shattering them, yes? After you help me finish this blade I need you to rework the handle and the hilt. I don't really want to cause more delays by sending it to a craftsman for a readjustment."

That seems reasonable. Aedi nodded and quickly got to work.

The blessed arm of Izurdin. It was a gift from the patient god to his people. It worked wonders in the battlefield, being nigh impenetrable, but its true value shone in works of craftsmanship, for it has the wondrous ability to shape various materials as if they were putty miraculously without affecting their structural integrity.

Acknowledging his place as the apprentice in the workshop, he quickly headed over to where the sledgehammer was located, taking note as Markwell began heating the cooled down blade to prepare it for the toils of hard work that would soon follow.

by **Aedifalse** on March 25th, 2015, 6:13 am

"Metal have to be heated up to become malleable," Markwell grunted by way of filling in the silence as the blade hissed in the flames. "Only then can the use of force be effective in shaping them."

It was more of a way to avoid the uncomfortable silence than to actually teach, since any starting blacksmith would know, much less one trained since young in the fortress of Sultros. Markwell shrugged, then eyed the unfinished iron that was rapidly rising in temperature. The beginning embers jumped noticeable in the dimly lit workshop, and the teacher nodded to himself.

"All ready," He gestured.

There was no need to describe the object they were making, for as an unfinished product the outline was self-evident. It was a standard short sword, as textbook vanilla as it could get. Markwell began the process by tapping onto the surface of the uncompleted mass, and Aedi responded by swinging the sledgehammer onto it.

Clang!

It was a grinding sound that made most people uncomfortable, but metalworkers found solace in. There was no need to talk or to gesture, for in the work of Izurdin the smiths had their own shared method of communication.

Clang!

The language of craftsmen!

Markwell wordlessly tapped on another facet of the iron block, and Aedi followed up with the sledgehammer. Though he indeed had experience working like this in a forge, it was a stretch to say that it was his natural habitat. He was, for lack of a better word, a little rusty, since unlike most other Isurs he focused on the enchanting aspect of magecrafting more over metalworking.

In front of a human, Aedi had to preserve the pride of Isurs as the founders of metalworking, and to that end he tried his best to not let Markwell see him struggling with the sledgehammer, and he persevered by grasping it firmly with both arms, though the weight was mostly supported by his obsidian arm.

The other problem was being able to accurately strike the places that Markwell wanted him to. In order to swing with great force, he had to increase the back-swing allowable. However, doing so decreased his finesse in aiming the sledgehammer, and striking with great force onto a wrong area was many times worse than the right area with lesser force. In the latter, it just meant more swings, while in the former some mistakes might not be easily repaired.

Markwell raised an eyebrow, for despite all of his nonchalant tapping he could see that Aedi had been purposefully restraining his force with the sledgehammer in order to improve his accuracy.

"I need a little more force here," The blacksmith decided, gesturing to the flat edge of the blade. There was significantly more surface area and therefore more room for error. He wanted to see the Isur's full strength.

The gesture was not gone unnoticed by Aedi, and he silently acknowledged the greater room for error in this case. Gathering his strength, he swung the hammer slightly more back and roughly increasing the torque by a third more than usual. Tightening his grip, he swung, and the hammer blazed a trail through the lazily floating embers.

by **Aedifalse** on March 25th, 2015, 6:38 am

The large hammer swooshed by in the air, striking its target with a mixture of a clang and a thud.

A thud?

There was a moment of awkward silence as both Aedi and Markwell peered at the resulting impact of the sledgehammer. Apparently, in the excitement of increasing the strength, the Isur's aim had deviated slightly downwards, causing him to strike both the flat edge of the blade, as well as part of the hilt and grip, resulting the sound-absorbing thud.

Aedi opened his mouth to speak, but Markwell quickly grunted in dismissal, waving the hand holding the indicating hammer.

"I don't expect a non-librarian to understand the organization of books," The teacher stated simply, drawing an allegory to deflect away from the Isur's embarrassment. "You can reshape the hilt and grip later anyway."

The novice smith fought to keep his flush from spreading, and he gratefully accepted the human glossing over his mistake. Intent on preventing the same miscalculation from occurring again, he adjusted his grip on the sledgehammer and reduced his backswing slightly. Aiming more towards the top, he gathered his strength and struck the block of red iron.

This time his aim rang true, and the satisfying clash of metal upon metal refilled the silence in the workshop. Gradually, the pair built up a rhythm of striking, and the comfortable tune of ringing metal kept pace with the sweat of the smiths. Time went slowly by, but it did not take an expert to observe that the mass of iron held by the tongs was beginning to take shape. It was looking less like a rough piece of quarry taken from the mines with vague shapes cut into it, and looking more like a respectable blade capable of inflicting actual damage.

The growing satisfaction in both teacher and student was evident, for only craftsmen would understand the pains in creating their own work, and treated their products as children of their labor. The formula of tapping and striking followed up to a point, when Markwell threw another figurative curve ball to the fledgeling weaponsmith.

"I need to prepare another component," The human gestured expansively. "It's mostly done anyway, I want you to reduce the width but keep the length. Take note to keep the edge keen."

Wiping the sweat across his brow, Markwell placed the tongs and the blade down, heading over to another cluttered area of the workshop and began rummaging through the tools to find what he was searching for. Instead of picking up the tongs, Aedi simply used his left arm to grasp the blade in place. The heat did not affect his blessed arm, and the ability to do so instead of using the tongs allowed for greater finesse in manipulation.

Judging from the remaining work, he no longer needed the sledgehammer, and so he grabbed a larger hammer with his right arm, cocking his head at the nearly finished sword and deciding how he should proceed.

by **Aedifalse** on March 25th, 2015, 9:24 am

The Isur crinkled his nose as he judged the maturing piece, deciding the next step he should proceed on. While Markwell had given vague instructions, the only other things he had was understanding the final shape of the piece - that of a short sword - and based on the patterns of Markwell's prodding prior to handing it over.

Fortunately, he had the benefit of greater allowance in manipulation due to his impervious left arm, and he used it to turn the blade over, hammering it at the sides. The rhythm of clangs began slowly, but gradually and surely as he gained confidence in his decisions, the metallic clashes increased in frequency, rising proportionately to his surety. He had a rough idea of what Markwell intended to do, based on the aggregate locations of his various blows, and he followed that pattern intelligently, though to be honest he did not feel intelligent at all.

Why give me such a monumental task without testing my skills? The young Isur wondered, even as he continued striking the metal while turning it about to give it an even width.

Unbeknownst to the Zeltivan fresh arrival, Garath Markwell did not have anything to do. Rather, he took the opportunity to stand at a corner, partially hidden by the steel clutter, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he observed his impromptu student figuring things out. While technique and experience played a huge part in forging, the other side of the coin contained talent, intuition and creativity, and that was sorely needed in the prominence of rote-based learning.

Aedi focused his attention on the gradually forming piece before him, making sure not to fumble the molten steel. His fingers clumsily handled the nearly-sword, pressing the sides of the flat edge in order to create an oval-like cross-section. More material towards the center, then tapering off into a cutting edge at the sides. While he did cheat by using his obsidian gift, it was merely to more easily distribute the material in a more convenient way, before he struck it with the greater hammer held on his right to cement its shape.

It was annoying because sometimes he pressed too hardly or too softly with his left arm, and the soft steel get indented out of shape. Then he would have to press the surroundings of the dents in order to make up for the shape, and when he strikes it with his hammer the depth of the sword becomes uneven. Aedi was far from the dream-smith that he wanted to be, but he did not let that bring him down.

Meanwhile, the giant blacksmith continued his observation, mentally taking notes as his keen eyes noticed the various mistakes the Isur was making.

An eye for detail, yet no finesse in varying his strength.

There was a hiss and an audibly loud swear over the noise. Aedi had missed and struck the anvil in his impatience in trying to get the blade in shape. It was simply a normal short sword, why was it so difficult to get it shaped like how he had seen it in shops?

by **Aedifalse** on March 25th, 2015, 9:53 am

Garath Markwell's eyes narrowed as the Isur made avoidable mistake after another. It seemed that he was on tilt, and losing his patience was a direct consequence of that. Unfortunately, that was the one thing a blacksmith would want to avoid. There was a reason why the God of Industry who gifted smithing to the mortals was also the God of Patience. The two came hand-in-hand. However, he chose not to step in yet.

Aedi was seemingly lost in the moment, the flush in his face getting redder as he tried his best to fix his mistake. Try as he may, his harried fingers could not repair his previous folly. It seemed as though he had a curse upon his hands, greatly amplifying the flaws with every touch.

In the heat of the moment, the Isur impulsively struck the blade even after an imperfect shaping, and the even the resounding clang seemed to admonish him for his impatience. The shape of the blade was beginning to look like that of the favored curved blades of pirates. It did not take a genius to notice that it was evidently not a short sword.

The budding smith panicked. There was no other way to describe it but pure panic. Flashes of failure and embarrassment flooded through his mind as his heart doubled in tempo. His forearms shivered in nervousness as he flipped the blade over, striking it in an attempt to right the shape back into a straight one. However, his uncertain hands wavered and with each strike the blade was beginning to look less like the crescent shape it was from the previous mistake, but the numerous curvy edge like the waves battering down on the shores of Zeltiva.

It was, quite frankly, a disaster. Aedi's mind was blank, and he stood still for a brief moment, freezing. Fortunately, that was exactly what he needed, for continuing in haste would only further the flaws that he was introducing into the simple weapon. The brief moment of clarity allowed him the presence of mind to realize what he was doing wrong, and he took a deep breath, calming his jittering nerves.

Unfortunately, the damage was done, and despite the attempts that the Isur made to strike the wavy blade into shape, the original straight edge could not be obtained. It was sufficiently noticeable that he was sure Markwell would have something to say about it when he returned.

The novice's shoulders slumped in defeat, and it was at this moment that Markwell chose to make his reappearance. Striding directly to the anvil, he gently separated the tools that Aedi was holding and placed them on the table, preventing further damage to his unfinished sword.

"Come back tomorrow," Markwell stated brusquely. He paused, then added, "No wait, I am giving a lecture tomorrow. Come back to this workroom the day after."

Aedi's ears were red hot, and he opened his mouth in order to justify himself.

"I don't need to hear anything. Just come back and fix your mistake the day after," Markwell concluded with a tone of finality.

The Isur turned around, unsure what to make of the atmosphere. He certainly did not expect this to happen.

"West Wing, Level Two, room furthest away from the stairs," The blacksmith called out gruffly after the Isur's departing figure. "If you want to know why."

Aedi left the enclosure, his face burning with shame, his mind awash with questions, and his arms aching from the repetitive actions. While he had more questions than answers, he did fully intend to get his answers.

And he most definitely would.

Next episode here.