“You have to know what

  you are working with,” Rosaria said. They were walking down a busy road. He

  spied someone pushing a heap of fabrics in a weird makeshift carriage pulled by

  a many-legged automaton. This was another part of the Trade sector, one of the

  core parts of the city. He saw dark smoke floating up to the sky from many

  venting points. Rosaria had set to show him the different floors of the trade

  sector. Now they walked toward the actual forgers. She was quite popular, known

  by both crafters and buyers. She waved at friends while explaining the

  principles to Sam.

  “Not just its name or

  what you can craft with it, but also you have to know its composition ratio.

  Updating your knowledge of these materials helps your appraisal skill to

  understand the materials you want to use.”

  She pulled him into an

  alley, through which they came out to a different street with a large

  blacksmith forge. Rosaria walked gingerly in front, leading Sam as she gave him

  a more detailed understanding of the different metals she knew or had worked

  with. She was a fountain of insight. Wexi had been right about her and now Sam

  could see why she was so successful. He had seen her work on a part of a long

  coat. She’d strip the metal of impurities, using a harsh brew since she didn’t

  have Wexi’s skill. They came out in shiny, thin plates of gold that she used

  her skill to refine into strands, thin enough to weave into fabrics.

  Sam winced at the heat in

  the forge. It pressed against his skin mildly. But Rosaria looked perfectly

  fine. Her face split into a small knowing smile. Sam followed her quietly

  scanning the place. It was magnificent.

  “This is Jelo's Hall,”

  Rosaria said. “His family was one of the original settlers and they have made

  Smithing their profession for hundreds of years. This has let them refine their

  skills. They have gained almost all the skills in the technology domain through

  the years. They have records of every skill. But they have no idea about

  yours.” She grinned, waving at a large man in the heart of the blistering hall.

  When they got closer, Sam realized he was younger, his eyes moving from Rosaria

  to Sam suspiciously. He wiped his face with a sheet of fabric that vanished

  immediately after he was done. He gave a nod to Rosaria and eyed Sam. Sam

  grinned at him.

  “Kel,” Rosaria called,

  taking the man’s attention from Sam. “Wexi would like you to show Samuel Ayer

  here how you use your Identification

  skill. He has something similar.” She smiled again.

  Sam had the distinct

  feeling that Rosaria was a woman who knew how beautiful she was and used it

  effectively.

  The large man nodded. He

  looked carved from a fantasy book about heroes and magic swords. His hair was a

  gleaming dark stream falling down slightly past his perfect shoulders. His skin

  glowed or seemed to gather heat from the flames in his forge. Or perhaps he was

  using a skill for that. Sam looked away from him, searching for anyone of a

  different build in Jelo’s Hall. But they were all built like chiseled stones,

  their hammers ringing as they worked away. They seemed held in the trance of

  their works---the sound making harmonious rhythms. Sam felt both envy and joy.

  He would like to be here, working like this. But there was a sophistication in

  doing the kind of crafting he did too.

  “You will have to pay

  attention to me,” Kel said, his face stretched in a frown. Sam nodded. “I don’t

  know what your skill does, but mine identifies materials. It gives a detailed

  understanding of what I am working with, balancing my own knowledge. For instance,

  the block of Villantine can melt really fast and it has a low threshold for

  enchantment. Some runes will destroy, no matter how you adjust the refinement.”

  He tossed it on the table and picked a flat thong. The iron was dark and old.

  Bits of it had peeled off through years of use. He tossed it to Sam. Sam

  plucked it from the air, shocked by the weight of it. Even with his high

  strength attribute, he still felt it weighing his hands down. The iron itself

  was marked on each of the handles. Circles, with lines splitting them into

  unequal crescents. The rune had been carved into them. He looked at Kel.

  “Most blacksmithing tools

  are created from Mountain iron. They are mined down south. Not much of it is

  seen anymore though. Blacksmiths have moved from using good materials to using

  magic. Skill forging is good, but sometimes highly unreliable.”

  Rosaria chuckled, getting

  a wince from Kel who looked almost as if he was about to get a whipping.

  “Of course, there are

  exceptions, Ro,” Kel said with an apologetic grin. “My Identification skill only

  gave me basic detail before until I learned more of the materials I’ll be

  using. The more I learned, the faster my skill improved. That is essentially

  how it works. My grandfather had a craft

  skill that could smelt and reform many kinds of materials. He could make fabric

  harden into armor, something of the opposite of Ro here. But he couldn’t work

  with materials he knew nothing about. Because the results were unreliable, or

  too unstable.”

  They stayed to watch him

  work some more while Kel talked to Rosaria. Kel would show him a metal he

  hadn’t seen before, and tell him their properties. Sam learned voraciously.

  When he was done with Kel, he walked around the Forge, the heat forgotten. Most

  of the workers had one or two basic skills that helped with their work, but

  none of them had the crafting

  ability. Sam felt a little pride in that. He asked questions and got some

  sneers from the younger forgers. The older ones were more accommodating. They

  taught him about temperature and pressure. They gave him a broad scope of ideas

  on how to work on forging specific tools.

  “Rune stones are

  expensive,” Varay said, sweat traveling the age lines on his face. He looked to

  be in his sixties, but he was built tough. His arms were larger than Sam’s, and

  they looked powerful. He swung his hammer with force and grace, sparks flew from

  contact, lighting up his face briefly. Sam waited quietly.

  “Yet, they are cheaper

  than enchanters. You need one of those to give your weapon some kind of magic

  properties. Also, you have to know the specific properties you want and how

  they will mix up with your construct.” Sam nodded, seeing the wisdom in that.

  He hadn’t even thought about the possibility of getting something different

  from what he wanted. Now he wondered what made his launcher defective.

  “Most people don’t know

  this, but crafting

  is a union,” the old man said. “It is marrying two individual materials

  together. They both have their own temperaments. You have to make it so the

  union is harmonious.” Varay grinned. “I have seen blasters that were supposed

  to shoot out small blasts of fire release a stream of liquid flame that eroded

  the rune stone in one use.” Varay shook his head, grinning.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Does this have anything

  to do with the composition of the material?” Sam asked, eager to learn. Varay

  scratched his chin, thinking. Then he walked over to his table of tools. His

  was smaller than Kel’s but that was to be expected. Varay was not part of the

  Jelo family.

  The old man picked a

  hammer, one side of it flat while the other seemed like a chiseled end. He

  brought it up for Sam to see. There was a glowing mark on it. This one was a

  lot more intricate than what Sam had seen in Kel’s. It gave off a quiet push of

  power. Nothing intimidating though. Sam peered at it, wondering what exactly it

  meant. The longer he stared, the less he knew. The pattern was complex. Lines

  wove into each other, forming shapes within shapes. He looked from the hammer

  to Varay, the old man’s face was alight with excitement. Sam chuckled, taking a

  step back away so the man would explain. Varay tossed it on the table.

  “There are different

  runes for different purposes,” he said, looking past Sam. When Sam followed his

  gaze, he saw that Rosaria was approaching them. Sam nodded for Varay to

  continue. The old man grinned.

  “It is the same with

  enchanters,” Varay said, eyes still on Rosaria. “Some runes are to keep

  materials together for a long time, increasing their sturdiness. Other runes

  can give an extra quality to your tool, making it something of an enchanter

  itself. It boosts attributes…nothing extraordinary, but just enough to help you

  in a pinch.” He gave Rosaria a low bow and then turned a brightened face to

  Sam. Sam was caught in a thought.

  “Your hammer is one of

  such?” he asked, looking at the short hammer. Varay nodded and shrugged as if

  it was nothing. Sam felt like holding it. Perhaps his appraisal would give him

  an idea of what buffs the hammer gave.

  “It reduces the weight of

  whatever I build. Not by much, but enough to increase the speed of use,” Varay

  said as though he could read Sam’s thoughts on his face. “Cam over there has

  the sharpness boost. It keeps the blades he makes sharp for as long as they are

  in use. Sharp enough to split a man in one swing. But most of us work with Fin

  or Orlas, the rune makers. They work for cheap and they are pretty good. But

  their rune works are low-rank, so most of the constructs we make are low-rank.

  The weapons the city’s squad uses are made from Zanther’s Hall. They work with

  higher ranking rune makers.” Now he sounded wistful, almost as if he was caught

  in a memory he wished to return to. Sam was about to ask but the old man

  snapped out of it, giving them a small, forced smile. Then he went to hammering

  and forging. Sam watched him work for a moment until Rosaria tugged at his

  shirt for them to leave.

  Sam was soaked in sweat.

  The clear breeze outside the forge made him shiver as it dried it off him. He

  wanted to go back in there. There was so much to learn and he was hungry to

  learn all of it. He caught Rosaria staring and his brows perked up. She chuckled,

  shaking her head. Her hair bounced delicately and once again he was reminded of

  how near-perfect she was. Unlike him, she looked pristine, as though they

  hadn’t walked into the bowels of unbelievable heat.

  “Is that a skill?” Sam

  asked. Rosaria gave him a confused stare. “Or you just don’t sweat or feel

  heat?”

  “Not a skill,” she said,

  grinning. She gestured to her loose pants and shirt. “The hems have runes that

  cast a cool-off spell on me continuously. Expensive, but useful in a place like

  this. “What did you think about Kel?”

  “Not so friendly, but he

  knows his stuff,” Sam said, then winced when he saw the confusion on her face.

  “He knows what he’s doing, I guess. But he didn’t have the rune tool Varay has,

  why?”

  “Time,” Rosaria said.

  “Cragforge is a hidden city, it takes time for things like that to turn up

  here. Sometimes people like Varay have encounters with other people who can do

  things like that. But it takes time. No rune made in the Forge can make a hammer

  like that. Boosts are inherently magical, and storing that much magic takes

  someone who has passed the initiate rank.”

  “Initiate?” Sam said. He

  could vaguely remember hearing that before, but he couldn’t remember who had

  said it. He turned sharply to Rosaria when he heard her whisper a curse. She

  smiled shyly, as though she’d been caught doing something wrong.

  “I guess it is time for

  you to go,” she said. They had just walked down iron stairs to another part of

  the floor. “I was hoping to treat you to a meal while you tell me about this

  other magicless world you are from.”

  She nodded to a man

  leaning against the pockmarked wall. He wore combat gear, which was mostly

  leather, and a sheet of steel plate wrapped tight over his inner shirt. He wore

  a plain cloak with the hood down. Sam saw as the look of disdain he got from the

  man switched into a fawning smile when he stared at Rosaria. There was

  something there. A crush? Sam couldn’t blame him. There was something generally

  compelling about Rosaria. It was not just her beauty. It was tangible and

  tempting.

  “Callen,” Rosaria said,

  her voice flat. A thin smile spread on her face and she gave him a curt, polite

  nod.

  Callen smiled boyishly,

  shuffling on his feet. “You, Samuel Ayer?” he asked, the smile slipping away as

  he pronounced Sam’s name. Even with the intensity of his gaze, Sam still

  couldn’t take him seriously. But he nodded to the question, brows lifting.

  “Wexi said you need to

  earn your keep,” Callen said and Sam groaned. Knowing Wexi, she had pulled him

  into something he wasn’t ready for. “You have to follow the Zel for their hunt

  and I am to act the guardian role.”

  “Callen,” Rosaria called,

  her voice gathering steel. Callen deflated. He murmured something under his

  breath that Sam couldn’t catch and then turned away from them, walking into the

  main street. Sam hesitated. He would have liked to talk to Wexi before he did

  anything, but he could see that wasn’t an option at the moment.

  “Callen is part of Crow’s

  squad. He is not a terrible person, but he has a problem trusting people,”

  Rosaria said, smiling. Sam nodded.

  “It looks like everyone

  in the city has that in common.”

  “No!” Rosaria said too

  quickly. She grinned. “I mean, that’s not it. You came after one of the only

  D’Arak attacks since anyone knows and you are—no offense—pretty weak. And you

  seem to have of most of the higher ranks in the city.”

  “And a bodyguard who

  might want to blast my head himself,” Sam said, watching Callen glare at him

  from where he stood waiting. “Although, that might have more to do with you

  than it is with me.”

  Rosaria smacked his arm

  playfully, grinning shyly. Sam chuckled, leaving to join Callen. “I hope I come

  back alive,” he called without turning away.

  “You will! And you will

  tell me those stories!”

  Sam laughed. He met

  Callen’s glowering stare and smiled. “Shall we leave?” He caught something

  brown slip from under the cloak, but Callen pulled it in quickly. Sam was still

  wondering if he’d seen a finger when Callen gestured for him to follow him. They

  walked toward a steel bridge that had just shifted, connecting with the primary

  residential sector of the city. It was filled with homes of all sizes and

  colors squished together in a soup of mundane life. There were no floors in

  this sector, just a network of homes and small businesses—but it was clear to

  Sam where the wealthier population lived.

  It was a wide spread, and

  they walked for a while, using two metal buckets pulled up and sideways before

  they reached their destination—a tavern in a rundown part of the city. Inside,

  Callen shoved him to a bald woman with pale skin and a luminous tattoo on her

  arm.

  “So this is the

  Outworlder,” she asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Not much to look

  at.”