Irwin's Journey - The Cardsmith

Irwin slowly woke to a muted conversation. His body felt warm and cozy below the thick blankets, and the sensation of his clean skin against the coarse fabric made him want to stay put. Slowly the memories of the previous day came back.

Right, I was in the bath way too long, he thought as he stretched his body and blinked a bit. The dim pale light in the room showed it was probably early morning, and as he took a deep breath, he smelled something familiar in the air. A crisp, cold and clear scent… The scent of-

Snow!

Irwin clutched the blankets tight as he sat upright and looked around. Daubutim stood near the window with another young man wearing dark green leather armor.

"Ah, your cousin has finally decided to wake," the man said as he grinned. "Orwin, right? Good morning. I'm Pytin It Groudin, son of lord It Groudin. From the capital?"

Irwin blinked twice, then nodded slowly. "Orwin," he said, not sure if he should add Coulwater behind it and deciding not to.

"Yes, so I've heard. I've also heard that you are still injured and won't be joining us today. A shame, but I'm sure after the carded-healers have a look, you can join us tomorrow," Pytin said.

With a slight smile, he turned to Daubutim. "So, as he is awake now, can we go?"

Daubutim stared back, then turned to Irwin. "I'll be training most of the day. Are you going to be alright?"

Irwin stared at him, noting the worry in the others' eyes. He grinned and nodded. "I'll be fine. I'm feeling a lot better. I'll see if I can find a smithy."

"Good. Be careful," Daubutim said before turning to Pytin. "Let's go."

The other noble raised an eyebrow at Irwin but didn't comment, and they walked out.

Irwin watched the door fall shut, then fell back into bed. His back barely ached, and as he tried to reach over his shoulder to where the wound was supposed to be. All he found was a small round scab surrounded by smooth skin.

Heat regeneration is great, he thought as he lay back with a smile. He knew he could have probably trained, but finding a smithy seemed like a better idea right now.

As he began thinking about what he wanted to do, the pleasant joy slowly faded, and after a few minutes, he struggled out of bed. The air in the room felt cold, and he rushed into his new clothes. When he pulled the jerkin over his head, he felt something squirm in one of the pockets, and a second later, Ambraz whisked out.

"I've had about enough of being cooped in your stuffy pockets," the Anvil snapped as he hovered around the room rapidly before landing on the table. "I heard you say we are going to search for a smithy today? I think that's a great idea, but we should discuss something first."

Irwin hesitated, looked at the pristine, thick white carpet covering the city then closed the shutters. A year ago, he'd found the snow beautiful in how clean it made everything look. Now, all he could think was that it meant he'd have to walk through it, and it would probably be painful. He debated for a moment if he should light the fireplace again, then sat down at the table. It wouldn't matter if he was going to go outside soon.

"Yes? Done? Good," Ambraz said, its lips pursed. "So, seeing as you know next to nothing about anything, let's summarize quickly, yes? This world will likely shatter between now and seven years unless something incredible happens. Common and uncommon portals appearing side-by-side? Not a good sign. You have zero knowledge of smithing and zero knowledge of cardforging. Normally it takes a long time for a Cardsmith to get to the point that he can reforge cards up to legendary. It depends on aptitude, cards, and previous knowledge. Even if you somehow, mysteriously managed it, the chances of you stopping the shattering are small. From everything I've seen, the people of this world are not advanced enough. So, my advice would be to stay here for a year and learn the basics of Cardforging if you can. Then enter the first rare portal you find to get to a more civilized planet, earn enough money to trade for a teleporter card, and move as many people from here to another world as possible."

Irwin's mouth hung open as he stared at Ambraz, trying to digest what he'd just said. The Anvil hadn't told him anything new, but hearing it broken down somehow made it worse.

He looked around the room, then at the light filtering through the cracks of the window pane, struggling to clear his head.

"What about finding strong carded here to help clear the portals?" he finally asked, recalling the previously opted plan.

"Let's say there's a few here. What exactly do you think they have been doing up to this point?" Ambraz asked. "No, let me answer that. They would have been trying everything to stop the portals. Look out of that window, and you'll see how well that's been going."

Irwin felt the remainder of his good mood vanish. Depressing memories of the destroyed city filled with Galub's flashed through his mind, and he clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to just abandon his world to shatter. He hadn't even seen any of it besides from some forests! Still... what Ambraz said made sense.

"How would we even get to another world?" he asked.

"Roughly a year after uncommon portals start appearing, which is now it seems, rare portals will begin popping up," Ambraz said. "These natural connections will be connected to shard worlds that will lead to farming worlds which link to hubs from which we can go almost anywhere. Well, we would need some cards to bargain, of course, but you can get those here."

"Farming worlds? Hubs?" Irwin asked, trying to keep track of what Ambraz had said. He imagined a world filled with fields and crops and wondered what that had to do with anything.

"Yes, yes, I'll explain," Ambraz said, letting out an over-the-top sigh. "Hubs are largely uninhabited worlds kept at the brink of shattering. Each has thousands of portals, some of which lead to special shard-worlds, which are called portal hubs or just hubs. The uninhabited worlds are kept in that state by- Never mind that. Anyway, people can pay to get entry and delve resources from them. Special minerals, spices, woods, and, of course, cards. Now, as I said, these farming shardworlds have thousands of portals, and we should be able to find one here that leads to a farming shardworld. Once there, all you have to do is find some resource hunters or Farmers. They can point you to a portal leading back to a Hub."

Irwin's mind was overflowing as he tried to keep a hold of all the new things Ambraz was telling him.

"There are already some rare portals beyond the wall," he said, sounding uncertain. "And I've never heard of one that has thousands of portals..."

Ambraz was quiet, then snorted. "First off, why would you know? These things are probably not shared around. Besides that, what do you mean behind the wall? What wall?"

Right, of course, he wouldn't know about this, Irwin thought as he stared at the Anvil. He tried to organize his mind, then began telling a story everyone on the Clour peninsula had been told from a young age.

"Two hundred years ago, the first portals appeared. Curious, the kings and queens of old sent their best fighters inside. Most never returned, but those that did brought back the first cards. Amazed by their power, the leaders continued sending in their warriors. Eventually, they found out they could close the portals, but instead of doing so, they told the warriors to leave the portals so they could gather more ca-"

Ambraz let out a loud snort, interrupting him. "Yes, yes. A story about history and the greedy nature of people. I'm not interested in that! What I mean is, what do you mean about a wall? And don't give me the entire history of this world, please."

Irwin sniffed, annoyed that the Anvil had stopped his storytelling.

"Well, surges began happening as the first portals evolved to uncommon and even rare. The monsters ran rampant, and by the time they attempted to close them, it was too late. Portals had appeared in remote areas, and entire kingdoms were overrun," he began, noting Ambraz's steel lips growing thin in annoyance.

"Right, well! The king of Caldangen pulled back his armies and saved his people by bringing us to the peninsula of Clour, where we are now. Then he built a massive wall on the landbridge, blocking Clour from the rest of the world. That was over a hundred and sixty years ago," Irwin said.

He was about to add that the other kingdoms had been killed in the massive surge that happened but hesitated. With all he'd learned over the last few months, he suddenly hesitated. The stories said all the other kingdoms had been wiped out, and the world beyond the wall was a wasteland. But there were also rumors about portals opening beyond the gate. Where did those rumors come from if nobody left beyond the wall?

"And they let the portals behind this wall run rampant?" Ambraz said, incredulous. "They didn't go out to close them?"

"I… I don't know. I don't think so," Irwin said.

"Bah," Ambraz snorted. "Well, it doesn't matter. Gradually evolved portals don't ever link to farming shards. They are too small and weak. Still, there's something…" the Anvil hummed oddly.

Irwin waited, wondering what Ambraz was thinking about. The Anvil was quiet for a long few minutes before humming again.

"Two hundred years, you say," he mused. "Well, I can guarantee you that there are people closing portals beyond the wall. If you leave portals to open willy nilly, a world won't even last for a hundred years. Most perhaps not even half of that."

Irwin stared at him, nodding slowly. He'd always wondered about what was beyond the wall, and it made sense. He wondered what the world beyond the wall would look like, who would live there.

"Maybe we can find people to help close more portals faster? Move them around as you suggested?" he asked, suddenly feeling slightly more optimistic.

"No," Ambraz said with a snort. "If there were strong enough warriors or kingdoms, they would have long since come over here to close the portals you have."

"How can you be sure?"

Ambraz was quiet, then snorted again, sounding even more derisive than the first time. "I can't be, but even if I'm wrong, how do you plan on finding them?"

Irwin sighed as he stared at the table beneath Ambraz. He had no answer, and he wondered if anyone did. He thought about everything Ambraz had told him, and he tried to imagine leaving and finding a world to bring his friends and family. Each time he did, all he could think of was the broken world of the Galubs, with the shattered moon.

There is still time, he thought. They had years left!

"I want to learn Cardsmithing first and see how that goes," he said. "We can decide these things months from now."

Ambraz whisked up and made a spin around him. "Good, good! You are right. Cardsmithing is more important than anything!" he said.

The Anvil seemed to easily dismiss their previous conversation as he continued upbeat and happy. "Now, normally, you would need to learn the fine, nitty-gritty details of smithing before even contemplating forging cards, but as we are short in time, we will use another approach."

Irwin felt his anticipation grow as he glanced at his first card, his special card. If he could reforge that, it'd become legendary!

"How do we start?"

"Finally, finally! First, I need to teach you the basics of removing impurities," Ambraz said, sounding happy. "The magic of normal smithing is changing something raw into something refined. The same applies to reforging cards. As with normal smithing, the magic of cards needs to be hammered and refined, worked and shaped into something better or purer than before. To start, you will need to get an intuitive sense of when metal is pure!"

"And how do I get that?" Irwin asked, staring at the Anvil that seemed ready to explode for joy while wondering what metal had to do with cards.

"Stop interrupting me. I'm getting to that," Ambraz said. "You need to find that local smith and get him to let you work on his raw metals, ironing out the impurities."

"How?"

"Well... by hitting it mostly. Purification, they call it, though it's actually more like homogenization, and- Agh, never mind. Just go and find one!"

Irwin stared at the Anvil in disbelief. "Wait, you want me to hit normal metal? I thought you said-"

"I know what I said!" Ambraz said. "You won't need to learn the details of every metal, nor the best way to create the perfect alloys for different situations, or any of the other things I'd normally expect any smith to know. However, there is no way around this point. Without the ability to sense impurities in metal, you can't learn to find the impurities in the cards. It will also determine how much affinity you will have with Cardsmithing."

But what does smithing metal have to do with cards? Irwin thought angrily as he stared at the Anvil.

Ambraz seemed to read his thoughts as he sniggered. "Why do you think we call it card reforging or those who do so Cardsmiths? It's because working with cards is like working with metal. The magic of the cards is strong, tough, and unyielding. Only diamond, err, legendary cards as you call them or higher, are not filled with large amounts of impurities."

But what does that mean? Do I need to hammer the cards? Irwin thought as he opened his mouth.

"No more questions! I'll explain more after I've seen if- how fast you can learn," Ambraz said.

Irwin tried to get some more information, but after a few seconds, he realized Ambraz was serious and wouldn't tell him anymore. He took a look around the room, then sighed, got up, and headed to the door.

It took him a while of searching and requesting directions before he found his way back to the base of the tower. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, but he was glad to see it was already melting in the sun.

Still, an intense cold wrapped around him, and he shivered, wishing he had better clothing. It's not the clothing, he corrected himself as he saw two guards nearby wearing similar tunics with merely some leather chest parts covering it. It wouldn't make them much warmer, and they seemed fine. No, it was his heat-sensitive body.

Deciding he needed to get a thick cloak, he walked up to one of the guards beside the entrance. Two piercing gray eyes looked at him above a ragged brown beard.

"Lording Orwin?"

Irwin barely managed to hold back his surprise as he stared at the guard. How had he known his name?

"Could you tell me the fastest way to the smithies?" he asked.

The guard raised an eyebrow but nodded.

A minute later, Irwin was walking away from the tower, trying to make sure he wouldn't forget the directions.

As he walked towards the nearby roads leading deeper into the town, he saw ragged tents and huts lining the walls of the other buildings. Campfires crackled atop the cobblestones, and gray and white-haired refugees, women, and a few children sat around them, shivering visibly. Thinking back to his hot bath and warm bed, Irwin shook his head at the disparity.

If I hadn't met Daubutim, I would have been like these people, he thought as he saw a few single-carded amongst the people. They likely only had utility cards, which would help them survive longer, but wouldn't be useful in the current situation.

I hope the rangers and guards at Malorin can keep the surges out, he thought. His desire to help his family made him increase his pace.

Walking into a wide road that would lead to the crafter quarters, he noticed only a few curious glances. The other refugees he passed just gazed dully into the flames or focused on their muted conversations.

Gray walls, wooden beams, and dark roofs dominated this part of the Merchants outpost, but he knew from his view from above that it wouldn't stay like this for long.

He wasn't at all surprised when a few streets further, he came across dozens of workers, cursing as they lifted freshly split planks and beams up a rickety wooden stare. Higher, he saw the start of another story atop the existing stone building.

He didn't stop to look, and for a while, all he heard was hammering, grunted shouts, and curses as he passed through the streets. But as he neared the direction he'd been given, the buildings became taller and had fewer space for another story. There were also fewer refugees sitting around. Instead, better-clothed and fed people walked around with purpose.

Two streets from his goal, strong, foul smells began wafting his way.

That smells horrible, Irwin thought as he crumpled his nose.

When he finally reached the small oval square he'd been told to find, he was glad to see workplaces and shops circling it.

A group of young men, all refugees from the looks of them, stood in the center. They had their left hands raised, showing off one, or to Irwin's surprise, sometimes two cards. Still, most were underfed, ragged, and in some cases, sported scabs and wounds.

Wondering what was going on, Irwin looked at what they were staring at. A couple of older men were talking softly, inspecting the group. Behind them was a building with a tanner's sign and hides hanging on racks outside. A plume of yellowish smoke came from a window in the side of the building, and as a gust of wind blew some towards Irwin, he realized the horrible smell came from there.

A sudden crash from the side made him turn in shock. A wide double door of a workspace dominated the building to his left. He couldn't see the sign from the angle he stood, but there was little else it could be. The moldy scent of wood dust flowed out from it as dozens of people inside busied themselves, sawing fresh logs told him all he needed. This was a woodworker's place.

"Three cards? Not bad for such a youngster! Listen, I need more hands! If you're willing to, I can offer food and lodging for at least a week if you work hard!" a gritty voice said from behind him.

Irwin turned around in surprise to see a thin, wrinkled man wearing a long leather skirt atop a burgundy vest stare at him. To his surprise, the man was almost the same size as him, making him one of the smallest people he'd ever seen.

"Sorry, what?" Irwin asked.

"Come now, don't make me beg, boy! As skinny as you are, with three cards, you should be strong enough, and you don't look as underfed as the others here, so-"

"Hamir, don't insult this strapping lad," another voice called.

Irwin looked up to see that one of the two men that had been examining the refugees was walking toward them.

A pudgy man with gray hair bound in a knot, he dragged with his right leg as he walked. Behind him, Irwin saw the refugees stare after him in consternation, then he saw a few glare at him.

What did I do?

"Listen here, lad. If you work at my tannery, I can offer what that old crouch can, plus two copper a week," the man said, smiling at Irwin. "We need clothing and armor for hundreds if not thousands of people, so I don't even have to bother with the one bothersome one-week thing."

The wrinkled woodworker called Hamir snorted and shook his head, but didn't make a counteroffer. Not that Irwin cared.

"I'm not looking for work," he quickly said before realizing that wasn't entirely true. "I'm looking for a smith," he added.

"A smith? Bah, another one of those that hopes to forge swords to start hunting demons?" the tanner said with a suddenly exhausted look. "Well, Uldor isn't taking anymore, says he's out of hammers and patience. Trimdir might have room for a few more, but I'm not sure he'll take you with how scrawny you look. Besides, he's already had his pick of the litter," the man added with a sad sigh, pointing at the opposite side of the square and a wide street flanked by shops. "Its that way."

He looked at Irwin for a few more moments, then turned. "If you change your mind, come find me," he said as he walked back to the youths that were staring at him hopefully again.

Irwin watched him leave, then saw the woodworker also walking towards the youths.

I hope mum and Bronwyn are fine, he thought for the second time that day as he imagined his ma standing in such a line.

Bronwyn would never let anything happen to her, he thought, shoving his depressing worries away as best he could.

He walked across the square quickly, entering the street the tanner had pointed out. At the back, he saw a sign with a hammer and an anvil. A single door in the center of the building stood open, and he heard the dull striking of hammers.

Stepping forward, Irwin wondered if the man, Trimdir, was going to allow him to work there.

I can always offer to work without pay, he decided. He would get food at the tower… hopefully.