The Runic Alchemist

Chapter 120: The Runesmith

Damian stood off to the side as Vidalia and Esme engaged in conversation with the second-ranker in charge. Meanwhile, Damian hurriedly copied the large golden runic circle into his rune collection book. He knew he might never be able to use it in his lifetime, but there was no way he would let the opportunity to collect such a valuable spell pass him by.

He finished just in time, as Esme called for him. From there, they headed towards the central part of the camp, just a bit further than the noble area. The closest they came to, it was a zone bustling with blacksmiths, enchanters, and runesmiths. These craftsmen worked day and night to repair and create weapons and armor for the army, ensuring their equipment were well-maintained.

Surprisingly, even this area, vital to Eldoris's war efforts, was built with wooden structures, showcasing just how essential these craftsmen were for the battle.

As they moved through the area, the various workers lifted their heads, acknowledging Vidalia's presence by bowing respectfully, but none dared interrupt them. Esme led them straight to the largest wooden building, its chimney constantly spewing smoke. Damian could sense a high-level second-ranker inside, though their mana didn't feel as aggressive or intense as other warriors he'd encountered.

This mana was calm and stable, like a mountain at rest, not fiery and volatile like many other second-rankers were.

They entered the building and found several first-ranker craftsmen hard at work. Upon seeing them, the craftsmen paused and hurriedly bowed, but Esme didn't hesitate, leading them deeper into what was likely the personal forge of the second-rank boss of the establishment.

The room was packed with materials of all kinds, weapons, some papers with weird designs on them laying around all over, while bunch of forges burned brightly in the side. A towering man, clad in brown fur, was hammering away at a sword of exceptional quality. When he noticed them, he halted his work, bowed to Vidalia, and smiled at Esme in welcome.

He looked like a bear beastman, though Damian refrained from asking, as it felt rude to inquire about such things.

The beastman, still holding his massive hammer, stepped forward and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

"It's an honor to see you, Commander, and Esme too. What can I do for you today?" he asked, placing his hammer beside his pillar-like legs.

"We need some special weapons for..." Esme trailed off, casting a mischievous glance at Damian before continuing, "Show him."

Understanding that she wanted to surprise the beastman, Damian complied. He summoned his iron golem. The beastman's lazy expression vanished as his eyes widened at the sight. With huge, ground-shaking strides, he approached the golem, examining its iron frame with the utmost care. He touched various parts, tapped in certain spots, and even brought his ear close to listen.

Damian could only guess at what the man was doing. Finally, the beastman finished his inspection and exclaimed:

"This is a masterpiece! Who crafted such a perfect iron golem? They must be a master—I'd love to meet them!"

Esme, smiling smugly, let the moment linger before finally revealing, "Shh! It's a summoned iron golem."

"Impossible! The lost art… it can not be!" the blacksmith gasped, taking a step back. He looked back at the gleaming golem as if seeking an explanation. Nodding as if the golem had spoken, he tapped its shoulder once more in admiration.

"It is perfection... I, for one, couldn't create such a thing. Only a spell could achieve this," he concluded.

The conversation had been going on long enough, and Damian had other matters to attend to. Vidalia seemed to share his sentiments.

"We need weapons for it as soon as possible, and if you can imbue its body and weapons with runes, that would be even better," Vidalia stated, cutting through the excitement.

The beastman straightened and replied, "A longsword and heavy shield would be appropriate, but imbuing runes takes time—at least two days. With the number of orders already in my care, I'm afraid the other lords' equipment would be delayed, my lady." He bowed deeply to Vidalia in apology.

"Focus on the weapons first," she replied. "We don't have the luxury to spend too much time on a single golem, no matter how powerful it may be. We need every advantage in the coming battle."

Damian, sensing the practicality of the situation, added, "Can you make sturdy steel weapons without runes for now? That will suffice."

The beastman seemed surprised that Damian was speaking in front of the Commander and Esme, but neither of them objected. They merely waited for his confirmation. After a moment, the blacksmith nodded.

"What kind of weapons do you want?" he asked.

"A heavy spear, a shield about this big," Damian replied, pulling out his nine-parchment-long runic scroll that was sewed together in 3x3 to demonstrate the size he had in mind for the shield. It was enormous and unconventional, but Damian wasn't just planning to use it for defense; he had other ideas, including using it to launch his runic scrolls.

The blacksmith studied the scroll size before nodding thoughtfully. "I'll craft those first and have them delivered to My Lady's quarters by the evening."

With a nod, Vidalia turned to leave. Damian would've liked to stay and watch the runesmith work, particularly to see the runes being imbued into the steel. However, without Vidalia, he had no reason or authority to remain. Besides, it wouldn't be proper for her to stay in such a place longer than necessary—she had a commanding image to maintain.

Not that it would matter if he asked her to let him stay; she wouldn't listen. Damian also had a subtle concern that if he spent too much time around her, she might eventually discover the secret of his Eyes of Truth and realize that he could copy any runic spell he encountered.

Returning to Vidalia's place, Damian retraced his steps to the same room with parchments and jars of ink, with the two guards joining behind him. Then he quickly became engrossed in his tasks and lost track of time.