The city of Traipus is a place of stone. From the construction of the dwellings to even the port, everything is made from rock. The port, though, does seem to have been reinforced with metal- otherwise it probably wouldn’t hold being extended so far from the city. As the Timbergrove gets closer and closer to the city, the weather gets progressively more violent.

  “Seems we’re arriving during a particularly potent storm.”

  I turn my head to the old man. When I do, I’m met with a beard frozen white from snow. Icicles have formed under the man's nostrils while his coat is completely smothered in snow.

  “Do you want me to take over? You seem a bit inconvenienced.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He says resolutely. “What about you? Your fur seems puffier.”

  I glance at my fur to find it somehow not only more white, but denser and fluffier.

  “I’m perfectly warm, actually. Are you sure you’ll be fine? I don’t want you freezing or getting sick.”

  Myers chuckles. “I haven't been sick in a very long time and my Vitality is too high for me to freeze. I’ll be fine.”

  “Comrade Fluffy,” Boriss’s voice rings out. “Is great weather!”

  I turn around to find Boriss grinning like a child about to build a snowman.

  Of course the Russian would be at home in a hailstorm.

  “Boriss, are you sure your coat is thick enough?”

  He stop by the throne and rests his hand, constantly smiling and glancing at the wonderland of snow. “Is fine. Vhen I was little Russian, mother make me play outside when storm. She say it make strong Russian man.”

  I snort. “I’m genuinely surprised you’ve survived to adulthood. Are you the only child?”

  “No. I have little brother Artyom-”

  “The storm’s getting worse.” Myers interrupts. “I recommend you grab hold of something.”

  I hop on Boriss shoulder a moment before the wind really picks up. The Timbergrove shakes violently, but Myers adjusts to counter. Eventually, we arrive at the port- wherein the winds lessen considerably. It’s still snowing, but the ship is no longer shaking.

  Myers positions the ship next to the dock anchorage area. Immediately, men of Boriss’s stature with the [Stevedores] job tie the down.

  As soon as the ship is secured, Myers stands up, the snow falling off his coat. “I’m heading inside to warm up.” He says.

  I nod to the old man. “You do that. Tell Cillian to depart when ready.”

  He nods and enters the ship.

  I glance at Boriss. The man's beard now mimics Myers- except for the smile.

  “Vhat is plan now?”

  “For me? I have to find a forge- or rent one.”

  “Vhant me to help?”

  “Mmmm, maybe? Your jackets is a bit thin. Are you sure you won't freeze?”

  “I am Russian,” He says like that's all the answer I need.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Fine, you can search with me."

  Exiting my ship, I notify the port authorities that either my [First Mate] or [Quartermaster] will pay any docking fees. They delightfully inform me to take my time and warn me to avoid leaving the premises of the city until the storm subsides. They then direct me to where I can find the best forge.

  As me and my mount leave the port, the wind picks up once again, but not anywhere as bad from when we’d been on the ship. The temperature, though, stays above freezing- growing warmer as I near any runed walls.

  Even as the storm rages, civilians are on the move, not even acknowledging the weather. They are dressed warmly, but not extensively so as you’d expect. They are clearly a people adapted to the weather similar to Boriss.

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  Boriss waves and grins to a gaggle of young women. The girls blush and wave back- their eyes focused upon the man’s muscles bulging under his generally thinner coat. Even the [Guards] we pass by give respectful nods of their head to the Russian.

  Eventually, we near the Forge at the edge of the city. It is here where the weather grows more and more violent.

  “Is no glow.” Boriss points at the inert runes.

  The closer we get to the forge, the stronger the storm grows. Eventually, I hear the clank of metal on metal and see the light of fire burning brightly past the wind and snow.

  Upon our arrival to the forge, we pass through something of a barrier. The wind slows and the snow disappears. Two heads turn towards us. One is of a man who looks like the spitting image of Boriss while the woman is curvy under a thick robe. She holds a glowing staff, no doubt the reason why the wind and snow is absent.

  Though their jobs aren't at the level of Expert, the feel these two give me say otherwise. They have the same, odd feel of veterans firmly acquainted with combat.

  “You should not be here.” Gunnar says resolutely to Boriss. “Leave.”

  “Why?” I ask, surprising both the man and woman freeze.

  Gunnar glances at Anna. The woman twists a ring on her finger.

  I stare at the ring.

  “The cat is an [Armament Shifter]. The man is an [Adaptive Skirmisher]. Both are low level experts.” She explains.

  Gunnar quickly seems to relax at the explanation.

  “Because it’s dangerous.” He explains. “If you need Alvar, come another day.”

  Staring past the man, I see the form of the smith near the fire, one hand holding pliers, the other striking his hammer on metal.

  “Is he working in the storm? That doesn’t seem safe.” I ask

  “Is proper Russian way,” Boriss comments.

  Gunnar nods approvingly at Boriss before returning his ire to me. “Safety is for the weak. Now leave.”

  I frown.

  Now, the smart thing to do here is to follow directions and return later. The man is powerful, as is the woman next to him. Avoiding confrontation is the proper action.

  If only his tone was more respectful.

  “You’re right. Safety is indeed for the weak. I’ll stay here with the smith and storm. You should run off to somewhere warmer.”

  Gunnar smiles with mirth. He reaches to the side of his hips for his axes, only for Anna to grab his arm. “Must you always move to violence? Do you think Alvar can concentrate if you're fighting nearby?”

  “I’ll be quick,” he pushes her hand away, but she placed her staff in front of him.

  “Is it worth the risk? Do you think Alvar is going to forgive you if he fails because your pride gets the better of you?”

  Gunnar growls and glares at me for a moment. He crosses his arms. “Fine, you can watch, but don’t interfere.”

  I pout at the grudging tone shift.

  “What am I not interfering with?”

  “None of your business!”

  “Gunnar!” Anna warns. “Just explain the situation.

  The man sighs. It’s clear he’s agitated, maybe even worried.

  “[Rune Smith] Alvar is smithing my axes right now. The Hailstorm will allow him to exceed his capability and create something worthy for the future ruler of this city.”

  Oh, Yeah. Emma did mention that the best items are created during the most mana-rich environments. A hailstorm is one such environment, albeit a very dangerous one.

  “Oh. Why didn’t you just say so instead of being a dick about it? If Alvar is making something amazing, I’m happy to wait and watch.”

  “He doesn’t need distractions.” Gunnar says.

  “Agreed.” I hop off Boriss shoulder and take a seat on a closed barrel with the smell of coal. “I shall assist you in keeping such distraction from interfering.”

  “I don’t nee-”

  “-I insist,” I interrupt. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to take such an important task on your lonesome. I’d be a poor kitten if I didn't assist you.”

  Anna snorts while Gunnar shakes his head. Before he can answer, the banging of metal stops. Eyes turn as the figure lifts two axes. He walks to a table away from the warmth of the forge. He sits down, pulls out a runeing pen and begins working. Every flick of the man's wrist on the metal releases brilliant sparks of light and fire.

  ___________________________________________________

  “So, Gunnar is the son of, what, the [king]?”

  “[Duke]. Traipus isn’t large enough to support a [King].” Anna explains helpfully without shifting her attention from the Bare-chested men doing pull ups.

  Indeed, sometime during our wait, Boriss removed his shirt and started working out. Anna became very interested, so much so that Gunnar actually got jealous. Ten minutes later, and now the two are trying to outperform the other. Both are muscular and shredded, but it’s clear that Boriss’s muscles are of superior quality. The Russian has strategically created a large number of fast-twitch muscle fibers, whereas Gunnar’s are more standard.

  Regardless, both are extremely physically fit and clearly attractive to the sole female.

  “Is that because the city is hard to expand?”

  She nods. “Traipus requires vast resources to expand a little. In time, the city will support a [King], but that will take generations.”

  “Is that because of all the runes throughout the city? Are they that expensive?”

  Her gaze shifts from the two men to me. “No. They are costly, but not so much the city can’t afford them. Our limitation is in population. Traipus is a culture of warriors that promote the strong and shun the weak. Many youths will strive to prove themselves outside of the city, many perishing either from the cold or the beasts.”

  “Yeah, you can’t make babies if you’re dead. Speaking of which, how dangerous is it outside the city? I plan to visit the tower.”

  She seems to perk up. “It’s extraordinarily dangerous without a guide. The weather, terrain, and monsters make exploration difficult and dangerous.”

  “I don’t suppose you know where I can get a guide?”

  Anna smiles slightly and returns her gaze to the [Duke's] Son.

  “Gunnar is going to want to test out his new axes when they are completed. Escorting you to the tower would be a good opportunity.”

  “Will he accept? He doesn’t seem to have a favorable outlook of me.”

  “Not to worry.” She smiles. “He can be easily convinced.”