Good Evening Elyrians.
There are stories, that upon the right stars and the perfect lines, which grow upon the ears and words of others. Sometimes these stories grow into grand tales of Heroism, Valor, Glory, and the Indomitable Will of the Hero. Even fewer of these tales grow into Legend and become solidified by the people as fact.
There are some stories however, that go even further into the reaches of our imagination and become so unbelievable that they fall into myth and the people believe that they are simple metaphors for being a good person, being the best you can be, and inspire others to simply hold their idols in the highest regards and strive to be just like them.
This story, is of a pair of Elyrians who simply wanted to be remembered. A man and his best friend, who believed that by hard work, and cunning tongues, they could become renowned throughout their lands. One, was a blacksmith of named Iryiel. He bore no children, never married, and gave little thought to his own Dynasty. He was already an older gentleman by the time he met his friend. A younger man, a scribe remembered only as Hemberor, wrote his tale.
Hemberor, was a young man when we met the smith. being only in his twenties when he began working as a clerk for Iryiel. He kept his records and helped the man with his finances.
Iryiel had never wanted family. He was always preoccupied inventing new ways to balance, sharpen, and alter the weapons he crafted. Making cleaner cuts, lighter but sturdier weapons, stronger axe heads with better cleaving abilities. He was nearly obsessed with making the "Perfect Weapon" as he called it. His forge was decorated with experiments, trials and errors of previous weapons. In his older age, his sight began to get blurry. This was when he hired Hemberor. To help with his receipts and contracts.
The two of them worked surprisingly seamless. Hemberor kept up with all of the paperwork, which he grew to realize was actually substantial. Ordering materials, paying the caravans and mining expeditions to bring back the ores. Keeping contracts with the men and women of the land who requisitioned weapons and armor from the shop. As the months went on, Iryiel and Hemberor became closer and spoke of plans for the rest of the time Iryiel had. He would talk about how close he was to finding the perfect recipe. The perfect mix of iron, steel, obsidian, and other metals and minerals to create the perfect blade. It was then that Hemberor questioned about his recipe, to which he received the answer that there wasn't one. He simply kept it in his mind. Hemberor then offered to record it for him, and Iryiel, after some convincing, agreed to let him sit in and record the mixtures as he made them. They decided to close the shop for a week and focus on the process of creating the perfect mixture. The week became two, and the two became a month. They became so absorbed in the process they would miss meals, miss appointments made weeks in advance, and even forget to bathe.
It was at the end of a month of research and refining, they reopened the shop. They placed massive orders of material and sold off all the previous versions of the blades and armor they had in the building. They rebuilt the forge and created a new storefront. They had spent nearly all of the shops money and resources on their grand reopening.
To their fortune, the results were incredible. Blades that could cut and rip and rend but stay incredibly sharp for long periods of time. Battleaxes that had weighted heads to increase the cutting force. Spears that had forked and serrated heads to shred flesh.
The weapons were both incredibly strong and immeasurably beautiful.
The weapons gained notoriety among the Noble Houses of Elyria as both instruments of war and of significant quality to be considered an heirloom. Which many became. The Scribe used his ability with words and quill to create beautiful filigree and etchings into the blades, while the blacksmith refined his abilities to create jeweled and metal inlays for the scabbards and hilts. The two had found inspiration in each others work and had used that to create the most beautiful weapons they had seen in many years.
When Nobles would come and offer to pay for their secrets and recipes and even move them to their capitols to be their personal smiths, the old smith would simply clap his arm around the shoulders of the young scribe and say with a laugh, "Now why would we do that? We rebuilt this shop to be ours. Your forge simply wouldn't have the heart in it that we've put in and I don't have the time to fix a new one my lord. We would be cheapening the populace if we only forged weapons for the nobility." They would laugh and the Counts and Mayors would leave with heavy expressions.
Then, the day finally came when the young man stoked the flames of the forge to begin the mornings work, when he found that his friend had passed on. A day he knew would come but had always feared.
A letter was found on Iryiel's desk that had become covered in dust and Hemberor gathered that it had been written some time ago. He prepared the man whom he had grown to admire, for his funeral. There were not many that came, save one Count who's name was never recorded on the manuscript. He offered to house the young man in his Court and be the Lead Researcher for his Castle in the Northern lands. He even offered to pay for his forge to be moved into whatever building he chose.
But, the young scribe refused. He returned to the shop to sit by the fire of the forge he had worked for so long with his friend, and read the letter while he enjoyed a drink of a bottle of wine they had never opened. When he read the letter, he began to weep and fell to the weight of his friends death.
"This is my will to you, Hemberor.
Once you were simply my clerk, but now I consider you my dearest friend. I have left everything to you. I have no sons, nor daughters, no heir to call my own. Save you. You are my friend Hemberor, my colleague second. So to this extent, find a new apprentice and teach him as I did you. Show him the same compassion you gave an old man. Do what you will with the shop. Continue my work and retire it and follow your dreams of being a court scribe that you once spoke about. But, in the end, it is yours. Be merry and live your life as I didn't. Take time to explore and search this world for a true purpose."
Goodbye my dear friend Hemberor,
Iryiel
The words of his friend, mentor, and colleague burdened him.
He continued their work for several years. Further enhancing their design but keeping the original piece they first forged together. A testament to his loyalty and dedication to his friend.
It wasn't until he was in his forties when he found an apprentice and worked with him for many years as well. It wasn't until his apprentice had become an expert when he decided to retire to traveling at the age of sixty. It was then he revealed the precise measurements for their method. Mixtures of ground obsidian, diamonds, steel, and the final ingredient is what shocked his former apprentice.
One spoonful, of the forgemasters own blood.
