Irwin's Journey - The Cardsmith

"Did you really run into Basil?"

Irwin jerked from the sudden question and looked up to see Lamia almost skip towards him. She had a look of reverence, awe, and longing.

"What did it feel like?"

What?

Irwin blinked, not sure he'd heard her right. As she continued staring at him, he looked around, seeing more than a few smiths stare at Lamia with as much surprise as he had.

Guessing it wasn't just him, he shook his head. "Feel like? What do you mean? Hard? He is wearing his armor!"

"Yes, yes- but when you hit him, did it feel like slamming into a wall?" she asked, her face suddenly red as if she had only just realized the weirdness of her question.

Irwin had no idea what she was going on about, but as Lamia was always nice to him, he tried to recall. Replaying the scene and trying to focus on the moment of impact, he shook his head. "No. More like running into a heavy bag of sand that gave a little."

Lamia stared at him with gleaming eyes, making Irwin wonder if he'd said something wrong. She seemed about ready to ask more when Olger moved from between the others.

"Enough of this nonsense. Back to work! We are already behind, and this isn't helping. Orwin, start by bringing us new ingots, please. We are lacking. You can go practice after that."

Irwin jolted at the unveiled annoyance in Olger's voice. He was glad it wasn't directed at him, but he still quickly ripped his jacket and shirt off. As he was putting his leather jerking on, he realized not everyone had left. Someone was watching him. He looked up to see Lamia inspect him with a cocked head, tapping her finger on her lower lip.

"You are definitely not skinny anymore," she said with a smirk. Then she turned away while Irwin felt his cheeks turn red.

By Gelwin's beard, she has to be doing this on purpose, he thought.

As she walked away, he wondered again how old she was. Initially, he had thought she was rather old, then, a few days ago, he'd seen her wash the soot from her face. From beneath the grime and black soot came out a youthful face that probably belonged to someone in the early twenties. Perhaps younger, though he found it hard to tell. It was just that her physique and behavior threw him off.

As his mind spun around with the different things that had happened, he began to fill his basket with iron bars, and as he put in the last one, he stared at it, stunned. The bag was full, but he felt like he could probably carry more! Inspecting his lower arm, still small compared to those of the smiths, he flexed it and looked at the corded muscles. Lamia was right. He wasn't skinny anymore! He suddenly felt a strong urge to see his mother and brother, to show how he'd grown.

As he began moving metal around, occasional shouting and pounding came from Trimdir's office. He caught multiple smiths taking the occasional glimpse at the door, probably wondering the same as him.

How could Trimdir argue on seemingly equal footing with Basil?

At some point, it became quiet, and slowly the usual banter returned to the smithy.

Irwin had barely finished and was standing in front of what he now thought of as his anvil, stuffed in the corner next to his own furnace when the door was shoved open. The doorframe protested against the force while a crack came where it hit the wall.

Basil strode out, a grin on his face, while Trimdir followed him with a worried look. Basil looked around, spotted Irwin, and walked towards him, Trimdir in tow.

"Orwin!" he said, the smile reaching his eyes. "I've heard about your troublesome card, and I've got good news! We are going to see the merchants so you can get another one. It's a good thing that you haven't… that… what? Why are you shaking your head?"

Irwin grimaced as he stopped, then licked his lips as he saw Basil's smile fade. He knew the offer was something normally anyone would have agreed to, but he couldn't. Besides the fact that he liked his first card, it was also more powerful than even the cards Basil had. And most of all… he was used to it.

It was his!

As he thought that, he suddenly wondered if everyone really would have accepted Basil's offer. He felt a strong connection to his card, and it couldn't be that he was the only one, could it?

"I warned you," Trimdir said as he stepped forward. "You think too lightly of these things."

Basil frowned, then shook his head, moving closer and towering over Irwin.

"Kid, do you know what I'm offering? I'd take you to the merchants, and you could have your pick of the cards they have!"

Irwin shivered under the intensity of the other's gaze. He couldn't come up with a quick answer, so he asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean, why? Because your other cards are pretty great, and we need more strong people!" Basil exclaimed loudly. "We have only three groups closing uncommon portals right now, and all are undermanned!"

"There are hundreds of people outside that could do that?" Irwin asked, frowning as he suddenly thought of something. "Why don't you just get all the merchant's cards and give them to people so they can help defend?"

Basil snorted, then shook his head in apparent disbelief.

"Dunno why I'm telling you this, but fine! Two reasons. One, if we forcefully take their cards, we will get into major trouble with the merchants guild. If they decide never to return here, we are doomed even if- scratch that, when we close the portals. Uh, and clear out the roaming bands of demons from the surges, of course!"

Basil frowned, then shook his head as he continued.

"Two, and you should know this, just giving someone a card won't make them strong enough to clear rifts! They need to be young enough when they get their first card to bond with it properly, and even then, most cards the merchants have are not combat cards! Let alone the uncommon ones!"

As Basil spoke, his voice began turning more convinced, and at the end, he stared at Irwin hard.

"Your first card isn't a combat card either! Reconsider," he said. "We need more people and-"

Irwin shook his head, then shivered again as Basil's eyes turned cold. He quickly spoke up, scrambling for a good reason or another idea.

"Don't they have a card that lets me resist the cold or draw in heat, or... something like that?"

Basil's eyes widened, and he barked a laugh. "What, as a fourth card, you mean?" he asked.

Irwin nodded slowly. He didn't want to create a full-hand yet, but he was getting the feeling he didn't want to get on Basil's bad side either.

Basil crossed his arms, staring at him for a while. "Say that they do. You think you have the willpower to create a full-hand? You know it hurts? A lot?"

Irwin blinked and couldn't keep the surprise from his face.

"Right," Basil snorted as he laughed again, shaking his head. "Kid, you have no idea. Didn't you ever wonder why there are so many people with three cards that never get a full-hand?"

Irwin shook his head. There were only a few people with three cards in Malorin, and those all had a full-hand. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Well… I'll make you a deal then," Basil said, his eyes gleaming.

“Basil…” Trimdir grunted.

"No. I need more fighters," Basil snapped, not turning around. "I understand you need more smiths, but pick one of the kids that doesn't have an uncommon battle card!"

Irwin gaped at the two men, incredibly uncomfortable.

Trimdir glared at Basil's back before giving a sad shrug to Irwin.

"Fine," he grunted.

Irwin felt like taking a step back as Basil's gaze focused entirely on him again.

"If you can create your full-hand between now and tomorrow evening-"

"Basil! Give the boy a week! Even that is shorter than most," Trimdir snarled, causing Irwin to swallow as the tension rose again.

Basil sniffed, looked at Irwin, then shrugged.

"Fine. One week. If you make your full-hand in a week, I'll let you pick any uncommon card from the merchants as your fourth. If you don't succeed, you will unslot that common and slot a useful card! After that, you will go with a group to close the uncommon portals! "

Irwin swallowed. Basil's glare showed he tolerated no argument. For a short moment, Irwin wondered if he should just tell Basil that he had a special card. Perhaps even about Ambraz.

Then he pushed it away. They would try and take the forge or keep me here to reforge cards forever.

His gaze flitted to Trimdir. If he was going to confide in someone, he'd rather it be the smith who had done nothing but help him out so far. As the thought came, it instantly lodged in his mind. He had to talk with Daubutim, suggest it, and see what the other thought.

Basil grunted, and Irwin looked up to find the guard glaring at him. Shit, he'd zoned out again! He was about to nod when he thought of something else, and he held back. Worrying about Basil's response, he licked his lips but forced the question out.

"Why no rare cards?"

There was a muted outrage from the smiths all around, and he could understand. Asking for a rare was… insane. The problem was that if he was to lock his cards in a full-hand, he wanted to get them rare first. And if he did that, he wouldn't be able to enter uncommon portals anymore. Not to mention that he didn't have any idea how he was going to hide such a thing.

Basil gawked at him. Then he roared with laughter.

"I like you, kid! You've got some balls on you! Fine. If you can do it before tomorrow night, I'll let you pick a rare!" he said in between bursts of laughter.

He turned and stomped past Trimdir, stopped, and looked up at the smith.

"I'm sorry about this, but you know I need every able hand!" he said softly, but for all to hear.

Trimdir didn't respond, and Basil shrugged, put his helmet back on, and walked out of the smithy. As the door slammed shut, Trimdir looked at Irwin.

"Orwin, come with me."

Irwin swallowed as he looked around to see the smiths looking at him. There were looks of envy and sympathy, while Lamia looked worried. Not sure why, Irwin gave her a reassuring smile, which didn't at all match with how he was feeling, then turned and jogged after Trimdir.

The smith closed the door behind him before walking around his massive desk. He sat down, stared at the surface, then struck it.

Irwin froze as he saw the smith's face go through a range of emotions, rage, disbelief, hurt, and sadness, before landing on resignation.

"There's nothing I can do about this," he stated as he looked up. "Normally, my advice would have been to accept the uncommon and replace your first card, but…" the smith frowned before raising an eyebrow.

Seconds ticked by, and Irwin swallowed.

What was Trimdir implying? He couldn't have found out about his first card, could he? Irwin hesitated, then kept quiet. He wanted to talk to Daubutim first before deciding on anything. If he misread Trimdir and he wanted to harm him, he wasn't strong enough to stop the other.

"Well, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Trimdir said with a snort.

Irwin suddenly felt bad, and he decided he'd definitely talk to Daubutim when he got back. The chances that they would reach Daubutim's city were getting smaller and smaller, and they needed to do something. He quickly focused back on Trimdir, who was still talking.

"-but I think I understand why you want to keep your first card. So, then my advice would be. Don't rush it. Take your time to prepare before combining your cards. Basil wasn't wrong when he said it hurts. Because it does. Don't attempt it before tomorrow, either! That's a fool's gambit and will only result in so much pain that you might never dare again."

The smith sighed as he leaned back, and Irwin felt uncomfortable from his intense stare.

"How do I prepare?" Irwin asked.

"Sleep, eat, rest. Make sure you have no tension or stress. Know all your cards. Feel them. Decide which card will be the central one. Usually, that's someone's first card, but not always. Also, decide beforehand which parts of each card you want to use as the combining factors." Trimdir cocked his head, then snorted. "I'd suggest you do not pick the one that makes you weak to cold because it will only make it worse."

Irwin nodded weakly. He'd never heard anybody explain these things, and he wondered why that was. Then he wondered why Trimdir didn't mention the card that would make him stronger if he learned more about purification. Had he figured out that was a lie?

"Alright. Now, head out and practice for a bit. Leave before you are too tired, and do the same for the next few days. If you have any questions, come and see me."

Irwin looked at the smith, and the same question he'd asked Basil kept popping up in his head. Why? Why was Trimdir so nice to him, helping him with all these things? They only knew each other for a few weeks, and it couldn't just be because Irwin wanted to learn purifying metal, could it?

Trimdir must have seen something in his face because the smith snorted again.

"You're wondering why I'm helping you? It's because you remind me of myself when I was young," the smith said with a weary grin. His gaze drifted off, getting a faraway look.

"I got my first card late in life, and when I came here, I had nothing. One of the smiths took me in, don't ask me why, he never told me. But he taught me, helped me, and guided me. It was... exactly what I needed at the time."

Trimdir was quiet as he gazed off into the distance.

"Thank you," Irwin said, meaning it.

Trimdir jolted out of his memories.

"Don't mention it," the smith said. "I just hope you survive these horrifying times we are in. But, Orwin, if we do, promise me something?"

Irwin nodded, then realized he should have probably asked what he was promising.

"Remember this, and if you get the chance, help those you can," Trimdir said, staring at him intently. Irwin noticed that the smith's gaze flickered to his left hand.

He either knows or suspects, Irwin thought. He managed to stop licking his lips and nodded. "I will!"

"Good boy," Trimdir said, grinning. Then his face returned to its passive mode, and he pointed at the door. "Now, go practice!"

Irwin jumped up and back, nodding. "I will!" He was about to leave, then hesitated and turned back. "And I'll try not to rush anything and do what you told me."

Trimdir smiled and nodded. Then he picked up a stack of what looked like smithing orders from a stack and bent his head over them.

Irwin left quietly, and as he walked towards his anvil, he saw dozens of curious eyes stare at him. He ignored them, just nodding at Lamia.

It took him more effort than usual to focus on his cards and refine the iron, but as time passed and the usual sounds returned to the smithy, he slowly got into a mechanical flow. Part of his mind was thinking about what had happened and what he should do with Ambraz. How he should go about reforging his cards and making sure nobody found out. If he should tell Trimdir.

His mind a churning mess, he didn't pay much attention to what he did and slowly got into a rhythm. His thoughts circled around and around, almost seeming to follow the beats of his hammer.

He had no idea how long he was working, but at some point, he reached for a lump of raw ore to find the massive stack he had prepared gone. Hand still, his body was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his muscles sore but not painfully so. Next to his anvil lay a massive pile of purified metal bars.

"When you get going, you really pull out all the stops, don't you?"

Irwin looked up to see Lamia leaning against a nearby wall. Then he realized it was really, really quiet. Surprised, he turned around to find that they were the only two that remained.

"Trimdir told us to leave you to it. Said something about you needing to work through something. I've got no idea what he meant, but…" Lamia shrugged. "You look like you could use a bit of relaxation. Wanna eat at Greggor's? I hear he somehow managed to get some fresh meat for his stew!"

Irwin blinked, then blinked again. As he stared at Lamia, he saw her face turn pink, but she didn't back down.

She is asking me out? Irwin thought.

He felt his own face heat up. He was about to say that he needed to go back and practice when he recalled what Trimdir had said. He needed to be relaxed and free of tension. Even if he didn't want to permanently lock his uncommon cards with his special… he might not have a choice. Which meant he needed to be prepared. Going out with Lamia actually sounded like it could be fun.

"I- Alright," he said.

"Good! Go get a bath, get dressed, and I'll pick you up near Diamo square."

"Where?" Irwin said, surprised.

"The square in front of the tower you sleep in every night?" Lamia said, suddenly grinning. "It's too bad you don't like the cold, or I could have given you a proper tour of Degonda."

Irwin grinned back, not sure what to say.

Lamia rolled her shoulders, then headed towards the door, picking up her stuff on the way.

"Don't make me wait!" she shouted.

"I won't!"

As the door closed, Irwin stared stupidly at it. Had that just happened? Wait… did that mean she liked him? He barely caught himself from licking his lips, instead biting his lower one as he looked around for the nearest jug of water.

As his mind was fighting over which of all the things that had happened was most important, he chucked down the water, draining the jug to the bottom.

I guess I have to hurry, he thought as he looked around. He'd not been here without the others before, and it felt weird.

Ten minutes later, he was sprinting through the darkening city, glad it wasn't snowing and the wind had died down. His Coperion Body skill barely got him back to the tower, but as he opened the door, just when his body returned to normal, he couldn't stop grinning. He'd made it! As small as a victory as it might seem, it somehow felt great.

Voices came from all over, and he heard a hubbub from the common room. He looked at it, then at the stair. Should he check?

Bath first, he decided.

Running up the tower and winding through the hallways, he reached his room, pulled open the door, and froze.

Daubutim sat at the table, face filthy, bags under his eyes, and a large mug in front of him, but alive and well.

"You're back!"