Mor Adelina's ethereal doppelganger looked at Jopp, her eyes narrowing slightly, and her voice was soft but demanding.
—Jopp, can you show your skills now?
The red-haired fairy raised the corners of his lips in a slight smirk, and his eyes sparkled with green reflections from the blazing forges.
Without saying a word, he nodded once, then again with confidence, as if he had been waiting for this request for a long time.
With a soft jingle of his bells, still hanging from his wrists, he headed for the far wall of the forge, where the tools were hung.
Each one was accompanied by a delicate jingle, as if he were speaking to the metal in his own, fae language.
As he gathered his tools, including hammers, tongs, and what looked like a glowing crystal, Mor Adeline noticed my intense gaze on him. I tilted my head slightly, my eyes shining with curiosity.
—You're wondering why he doesn't speak, aren't you?
Adeline asked calmly, her eyes fixed on Jopp.
I blinked as if taken aback, but I didn't deny it.
—Yes... He looks... so different from the other fairies. He has a look... as if he can hear something you can't.
Mor Adeline spoke softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the past that lay dormant beneath the layers of her memories.
—Once upon a time, long ago, Jopp was not just a blacksmith... he was a wanderer. A traveler who forged swords under the light of different moons, in lands where even fairies dared not fly. He sought out metals that could sound, breathe, and remember the warmth of their owner. He said he wanted to create 'living iron.'
I listened, captivated. Every time Mor Adelina mentioned something from the old days, a special tint seemed to appear in the air like light refracted through tears.
—But one day, – Mor Adelina continued, —he crossed paths with someone called the Metal Lord.
She said the name almost in a whisper, as if she were afraid that even its echo might call forth the ancient beast.
—Barnadat, – she added quietly. — A lizard from an era when the earth still breathed with magma. He was the master of all the mines, the father of alloys, a spirit whose scales were metal themselves.
I frowned.
—And he... attacked Jopp?
More Adeline shook her head no.
—Not quite. They clashed in an argument. Jopp tried to forge metal from his bone, a rare material that could store the power of life. Barnadat considered this blasphemous, and they fought. Jopp survived... but he paid for it.
Her gaze turned sad, almost motherly.
— The lizard's mark burned his tongue, turning it into a seal. Since then, he can't utter a single word, and only his bells can convey what remains of his voice.
At that moment, a muffled ringing sound came from the smithy Jopp was returning.
A fae appeared from the dark passage, holding tools that seemed to be made of light and metal.
Over his shoulders, huge orange luminescent hands floated, transparent and powerful, like spirits, subdued to his will. They held hammers, anvils, and whole bunches of hot ores, like weightless feathers.
I involuntarily took a step back in admiration and slight fear.
Mor Adeline raised her palm, calling for silence.
—Don't ask him about it again. For him, the story still breathes pain.
Jopp's bells chimed a short melody, light but confident.
Fritte immediately raised his head, his tiny wings buzzing with excitement:
—He says he's going to light the fire... and then we'll start.
Fritte translated, almost singing.
At that moment, flames burst out in the center of the forge. Not ordinary fire, but thick as liquid, golden-orange, with hints of copper and amber. It seemed not just to burn, but to breathe.
The air became heavy, smelling of molten iron and some ancient magic, which made the walls hum softly, as if absorbing the heat.
Jopp stepped closer to the fire. The luminescent hands behind him flared brighter, now four in number. Each one moved with precision and grace, as if leading its own dance.
He made another short call, and Fritte's ears perked up:
—Um... he says you should give him all your weapons, Disava.
Fritte said uncertainly, flying closer.
—Every last one.
I asked, frowning.
—… Even that?
Jopp nodded, and his bells chimed softly in unison as if in confirmation.
I slowly removed the [Blood Rose Knuckles] from my belt, their blades pulsing with a dark red light as they responded to my touch.
Then I took out the [Crimson Budding] dagger, which was as delicate and slender as a stem, but as dangerous as a thorn.
Finally, I pulled the [Mist Leaf] blade from the dispenser, which was so thin that it seemed to dissolve into the air like smoke.
When all the weapons were laid out before Jopp, the forge seemed to come to a standstill. The bells around his neck chimed a long, melodious, slightly sad tune, like an old smith's song.
Fritte translated:
—He says... that he'll improve all of this. But he needs materials. Special materials. Materials that don't know fatigue or fear of fire.
I thought about it. There was a hint of determination and excitement in my eyes.
—Materials... let's see what I have left.
The first item to emerge from the inventory portal was the [Flower of Mist] a fragile, translucent bud resembling a crystal, crafted from frost and moonlight. Its petals shimmered in the air, leaving a trail of misty threads, like the breath of Morna Lunn herself, defeated in battle.
The forge's fire dimmed gently, as if bowing respectfully to the rarity of the artifact.
Next, I took out the [Green Poison Ant Salt Crystal]. The stone emitted a faint glow and had a subtle scent of bitter salt and herbs.
When the light of the flame fell upon it, something alive seemed to stir within, like a tiny spark trapped within a mineral.
Then [The Charred Wings of the Winged Poison Ant]. They looked like ashes clumped together into fragile plates, but as soon as I let go, they began to flutter, emitting a barely audible buzz as a reminder of who they once were.
The [ Chitinous Carapace ] and the [ Poisonous Resonance Sting ] were much more menacing. The Carapace shimmered with a greenish sheen, like metal, but it felt alive to the touch, with a dull heartbeat that resembled a heart. The Sting vibrated, creating an invisible wave that sent chills down the skin.
The [Chitinous Sword Fragment] appeared last. Uneven, with veins of darkness inside, it seemed like a fragment of something ancient. On its surface, there were signs that were not just scratches, but symbols that looked as if they had been burned in battle.