Mythshaper-Chapter 48: Legionaries

Chapter 48: Legionaries

The moment I finished molding the runes on the shield, I dashed out of the workshop to find Eran. The sun was at the horizon, painting the sky a pale golden red. It was late, yet still early enough for Eran to finish his evening practice.

Just as I had imagined, I found him next to the empty field near the one where we had been cultivating lettuce.

There was no way for me to hide the octagonal shield, so I did not bother. With a big grin on my lips, I approached him.

While he was doing push-ups, Eran lifted his head and shot me a questioning look. "Is that what you have been crafting?"

“Took me a whole week.” My grin did not disappear as I handed it to him.

He lifted the shield, brushing his palm over the solid metallic surface of the refined hardwood. "It's heavier than I thought ... solid too." He executed a couple of quick manoeuvres with it. "Hmm, isn’t it too polished to be wood? You could hurt someone with the sharp edges."

I had made it with exactly that idea in mind when I designed it. "If you want," I said, "I could file down the edges to make it more circular."

Eran's gaze returned as he blinked. "If I want?"

"Well, I made this for you."

His expression froze, and for a long moment, he did not know how to reply.

"For me? Truly?"

"Well, I am too busy with all my practice to carry a shield," I said. Not to mention, the bracelet Mum gifted me had a similar effect, without forcing me to carry a shield everywhere. And the Band of Protection was by no means inferior in defence. It was actually Elite Grade compared to the octagonal shield’s Uncommon rank.

On that note, I was quite surprised when it came to Uncommon rank. It was my first Uncommon rank after a series of common utility projects and charms. I did invest a whole week into it, from refining the material to designing it to be something better instead of rushing into the crafting as soon as the first idea struck me.

A conflicted look crossed his youthful face. I could tell he liked the weight and feel of the shield, yet it looked so lavish that he felt it wrong to just take it—even before he had seen what it could do.

"I made this with you in mind," I told him. "It would sadden me a lot if you did not take it."

"But this looks so expensive."

I snorted. "It’s merely made out of hardwood."

True, I refined it for at least eight hours in total, elevating its material to Tier 2, but Eran didn't need to know that. The only expensive component was the essence mould, which cost a few silver leaves. I could have done without it, but then it would not have looked as impressive. My main concern was the erosion of the runes. The rune formations were common enough that I did not bother concealing them, which cut down the cost a bit.

"And of course my handiwork," I grinned at him, "but you cannot put a price on that."

"What do you think it would sell for?"

I did not want to give him the correct answer, which would likely discourage him from taking it, as the price of this piece could go up to sixty to a hundred silver leaves. While the Stonecutters were by no means poor, they would still have to discuss before making a financial decision like this.

Even if I did not give him the number, Eran was going to find out by other means. As I struggled for a response, a couple of figures strode from the narrow path and hesitated upon finding us.

"Hey, kids," one of them said. "Is this the correct direction to the Sentry outpost?"

The speaker was about five and a half feet tall; although not tall, his build was similar to my father's. What else caught my attention was the silver-and-red legionary uniforms they wore. The one who had spoken even had three stars on his chest, along with a short red cape over his shoulder, marking him as a centurion. Although a commander of a century of legionaries, he was accompanied only by a single Immunis.

The dual hammer cross insignia on the other legionary’s chest suggested a craftsman's profession, although he had a sword strapped to his hip in contrast to the shorter man's long spear. The Immunis was taller, though not as tall as my father, and had sharp features like any common denizen. A spark of interest lit his eyes as he noted the shield in Eran's hand.

"That is a fine shield you have there," said the Immunis. "May I take a look?"

Eran glanced at me. Only when I nodded did he step forward to hand over the shield.

"Not the first time I have seen a shield made in this shape," murmured the artisan as he held it up to examine it, a sheen of yellow flickering in his eyes.

"Uncommon rank ... not bad," he muttered. "I did not think this little valley had someone making uncommon-rank gear for children. This is honestly too good for kids to have."

The shorter legionary, the centurion, did not seem to share the Immunis’s interest.

"And what is this feature?" asked the taller legionary. "Kinetic Punch?"

As if testing it, he thrust the shield toward his companion, channelling energy through it. A kinetic force burst out, lashing at the shorter man. But before the attack could knock him back, he lifted an arm and absorbed the force without even flinching. Only his clothes and cape fluttered from the impact.

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"Stop playing around on duty, Lucien," scolded the centurion.

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I considered glimpsing at their inner weave with Fractal Sight, raising the progression by a couple of points, but I stopped myself at the last moment. The shield had already caught their attention, and only the Oracle knew what they would see once they noticed the green shimmer in my eyes.

"Good design," Immunis Lucien replied, waving off his superior. "Perhaps too good for you kids to be playing around with. Even our recruits do not get anything as good as this."

A look of panic crossed Eran's face, and I, too, became pensive, thinking the soldiers wanted to claim the fabricator for themselves. There were plenty of examples in the stories of soldiers pillaging and robbing good folks in the name of the empire. Thankfully, it merely looked like professional curiosity as he stooped to return the shield to Eran.

"Curious," he said, before giving up, "who made you this?"

"I made this," I said, and remembering common courtesy, added a late "sir."

The soldier cocked an eyebrow at me, as if trying to detect any falsehood in my words. He exchanged a look between my stature and the shield before shaking his head.

“If a kid your age can craft a piece like this... I might as well just give up," Immunis Lucien snorted. “You shouldn’t lie about things like this. Especially to soldiers.”

"Truly, Arilyn made this," Eran vouched. Although he hadn’t seen any of the creation, he had full faith in me. “His mother is a craftsman. She has been training him for over a year.”

"So it was your mother who crafted this." The soldier jumped to that conclusion.

I considered explaining myself to him, but the man already had his opinions settled. There was no point in trying to explain.

“We’re already late, Lucien,” said the centurion, facepalming.

“Late? Not at all,” grinned the man. “I see no blighted swarms of demons or the village in unrest. If you ask me, we are a little too early.”

“You Imperials and your freakish...” the shorter man froze, noting a figure creeping toward us. His posture stiffened in disbelief, though his gaze did not flicker from the figure approaching from the distance.

It was, of course, my father.

"Jinn?" he asked. "Brother, is that you?"

The Immunis looked between them and showed no sign of knowing my father.

"Arata," Father muttered. "Didn’t think I’d see you again. Not here. And not in that uniform either."

"Well, many things happened when we were far apart," the centurion Arata replied. "The empire doesn’t shy away from taking someone foreign if they are useful, even though they still put me through all the circles before advancing me to the centurion. Ahh... how many years has it been? Four? Five? The calendar here always confuses me."

Father said nothing, shifting slightly to stand beside me.

"So all these years, you’ve been here?" Arata asked, a trace of accusation in his tone.

Actually, Father hadn’t been here all these years, but he didn’t bother to explain himself. I guessed I got that trait from him.

The centurion’s gaze dropped to me. "Is this your cub?" He had already guessed the answer. "He looks a bit green, but I guess he's at that age. Need any help training him? I’m sure I can make a fine warrior out of him in a year or two. We are still short on those."

My father’s gaze narrowed. The air around him seemed to shift, and a thin aura of red mist wafted from him. Lucien, already uneasy, took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for the pendant at his neck.

"Aha, I’m merely joking," Centurion Arata said, unfazed by the blatant aura my father directed at him. "You know how to train your cub better than I or anyone else ever could, don’t you?"

"Why are you here, Arata?" my father asked.

The centurion gave him a look and smiled. "It's good to find you here, Jinn. Truly," he said, "but it is merely a coincidence. I’m here on behalf of the Legionary. I heard about some nasty rift breaking out here in the middle of nowhere. Nobody wanted to come, but since I don’t have as much connection as other centurions, they thought it fitting to throw the duty my way."

"Why? Not glad to see an old friend?"

"Do you want me to lie?" my father replied, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

"After all the battles we fought together," said the man, shaking his head. "I guess I should have known when you left."

"You're on duty," my father cut him off. "Then be on your way."

He locked eyes with Father, a similar red mist of aura simmering around his form. In reply, Father’s aura held me and Eran protectively, dismissing any effect the centurion might have on us.

"And one more thing," my father added. "Think twice before showing your face around here. Ashlyn will tear you apart if she sees you."

Finally, for the first time, a look of horror flickered across Arata’s face. He quickly masked it with a stoic expression. He glanced at me briefly, then turned away, motioning for Lucien to follow him as they made their way toward the foothills.

"Who was that man?" I asked as their figures faded into the dimming light.

"An old colleague," my father answered curtly.

From his tone and the conversation they had, it was easy to assume they were not exactly on friendly terms. Eran was somewhat shocked by the encounter, though he was also strangely impressed. He probably hadn’t caught the sting in Arata’s voice, nor had he detected the subtle aura manipulation.

"You remember how I told you your mother and I worked in a specialized military corps?" my father asked.

I nodded.

"Well, Arata was in a corps similar to ours. Sometimes we had to work together. Let’s just say our opinions rarely matched, though our end goal was the same. We aimed to clear out as many rifts as we could," Father sighed, looking toward the direction in which the men had disappeared. "All in all, he means well."

"So, the aura," I asked, my curiosity piqued, "how do auras work? I saw how you used yours against the centurion."

Augmenters could not draw their essence threads from their body, but was it different for aura? What was even aura?

Father blinked at me and then gave a look that said he was not surprised at all.

"I don’t think you’re in any position for me to give you that lesson yet," he said. "Auras work somewhat differently from person to person and from path to path. Shapers have it a bit easier sometimes, but essentially it is about manifesting one’s will, something nearly impossible at Common and Noble class."

I had so many questions about it, but before I could even voice my interest, my friend returned the shield to me.

"Arilyn," he said, his lips pressed to a thin line, "I don’t think I can take it."

"Why?"

"This is too good," my friend said, not meeting my eyes.

"Isn’t that better?"

He shook his head. "I cannot accept something like this."

I turned toward Father, hoping he would be able to convince Eran, since my friend respected him as much as his own father. But Father showed no interest in involving himself in the conversation.

"Are you worried your parents wouldn’t approve of it?" I asked.

He did not answer.

"Fine then," I said, clenching my jaw. "I’ll stop practising in your fields and will not even complete the Way of Cultivation."

"What? Why?" Eran cocked his head. "Aren’t you halfway toward completing the first layer?"

"So what?"

"You’ll be missing out on two points," Eran cried. "Two easy points."

"So what?" I said, biting my lips. "Since you are taking my help, why would I take yours?"

"But that’s so different."

"How is it different?"

"An uncommon rank artifact costs hundreds of silver leaves," Eran reasoned. "This is too extravagant for me."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "You know I trained most of my Archery with your bow and arrow?"

"That was different!" he insisted.

"Oh, I get it." I shot him a scathing gaze, palming a fist. "So whenever it's my turn to take, it's fine, but when I finally decide to give some in return, you refuse?"

Eran had no answer this time, much to my relief. Still, we brought the gift to his parents and helped to have them make the final decision.

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