The Dark Lord of Crafting

I watched Leto playing with one of my coins, trying to make it disappear behind his fingers the way that Fladnag had shown him. He practiced whenever we stopped, and even some on horseback, though he had lost a few coins that way along the road. Gaap and the other demons were marching hours behind us, leading a host of nightmares into the north. The distance allowed us to pretend this was something closer to a family vacation than a military advance.

We had our horses and supplies separate from the army, as well as Fladnag’s wagon. The harpies kept watch overhead, along with Noivern, whom they had accepted as if he were a natural member of the brood.

“You’re getting better,” I said.

“Mhm,” Leto mumbled, rolling the coin over the back of his knuckles. He was as focused on learning the trick as I had ever been on anything.

He’d started the campfire himself, using my flint and steel, and I was constructing a safe house around us as Esmelda readied the evening meal and Gastard questioned Fladnag about the ancient templars. The magician had a wealth of information on nearly every subject. It was as if he had been gathering stories for hundreds of years; which, I assumed, he had.

I wasn’t getting fancy with the safehouse, just a rectangular stone box. I built the walls five blocks high, then topped them with upright logs and a vaulted plank ceiling. With enough torches, we could keep the spawns at bay even if we camped in the open, but I liked building shelters, and no one I was traveling with would have slept well if they could see the monsters or the demon who would come to collect them.

“They did not live happy lives,” Fladnag said, “or long ones.”

“They were heroes,” Gastard said.

“They were,” the magician agreed, “but one cannot wrestle with the forces of Bedlam without being tainted by them. There was a time when monsters were common outside of Dargoth, thankfully gone, as the veil of the world has strengthened from the old days.”

“How did it strengthen,” I asked, setting a plank. The crafting force seemed to recognize certain positions as being more agreeable for locking pieces together than others. Getting the angle right for the first plank had been difficult, but after that, all I had to do was slap a coin against the edge I wanted it to align with.

“Faith in the gods,” Fladnag said. “And monoliths imbued with their will. The taint of Bedlam is destabilizing. The more deeply it roots, the more swiftly it spreads. As the old monsters were slain, it became harder for new ones to slip into the world.”

“But people like me weaken the veil?”

“At first, yes. Though it is written that the heroes of old grew strong enough of will and mind to strengthen the veil around them, rather than cause it to thin. Lord Umber and Lady Nadia were not said to have monsters trailing in their wake, at least not in their later days. Certainly, that was true of David. Koroshai would wither and vanish at a look from him. And even in the beginning, Frodo’s brought the world around him closer to harmony.”

“So there’s a way for me to stop the spawns? What does it mean to be strong enough of will and mind? Do I have to meditate or something? Is there a technique I can learn?”

“I cannot say,” Fladnag sighed, settling closer to the fire. “Some heroes who struggle against the darkness long enough become purifiers, others succumb to the taint, becoming monsters themselves. It was the same for the templars, and it was not as simple as saying that they were good or bad men. All men are flawed. Those who succumbed were not weak, but perhaps they lacked something intangible, or compromised too often.”

Esmelda paused while stirring the stew pot. “Compromised?” She glanced at me. “They didn’t make deals with demons, did they?”

Gastard grunted. It was a fair point. As much as I could argue the practicality of what I was doing, compromise was an excellent way to describe it. My achievements marked me as a purifier, but the last rank I’d gained had included a note about my relationship with the demons. If I kept down this path, I would continue to be a destabilizing force for Plana, even if I didn’t go around destroying monuments.

Fladnag sidestepped the tension. “That isn’t exactly what I meant. Demons existed in those days as well. But the compromise I speak of is more personal. David was pure of heart, without a shadow of darkness within him.” His face fell as if he was recounting something painful. “He came into this world as a child. What he saw and experienced, the fighting, the death, one would have thought it would break his heart. But it never did. The longer he lived, the purer he became. He lost himself to anger more than once, but even that was pure. Righteous. He never forgot what was right.”

“You sound like you knew him,” I said, and Fladnag grew quiet. I was sure that he was more than he claimed, but he would either open up to me or he wouldn’t, in his own time. Trying to force it out of him didn’t seem right.

“I can understand your compromise,” Gastard said to me, “even if I do not agree with it. If you require it of me, I can swear not to take action against those demons who swear to you. But if I am to be a templar in truth, and defend you and your family to the best of my ability, I need more than what I have. The armor you made for your wife and son is enchanted, is it not? Can you do the same for my own?”

“I can,” I said. The phrasing of his request was so perfect that I had to wonder if he had talked it out with Esmelda. Arming him to kill demons would run the risk of triggering my geas with Bojack, but he was our guardian, and Bojack hadn’t specifically ordered me not to arm him, regardless of what he might do with a Shadowbane sword in the future.

“Would you prefer I made you new equipment, or enhance what you already have?”

“I won my armor in a tourney,” Gastard said, “and it would not hurt me to replace it. But my sword was my father’s.”

“I understand,” I said. “I can draw up the diagrams to enchant your sword, and I brought more than enough material with me to cook you up some plate mail if you’re interested.”

“I would be in your debt,” he said, lowering his head in a gesture of respect.

“No, you wouldn’t,” I had to laugh. “And I’m happy to do it. I can get started working tonight. Do you want a full suit or just a breastplate? What about a shield?” I’d made him a shield once before, but he never seemed to use it.

“I would be honored to carry whatever you craft.”

“Full set it is then.”

Dinner was quiet, but Fladnag filled the silence with a story.

“Three hundred years ago, demons set out from Dargoth to assault the great temple in Eisenhall. The dark lands had been quiet for as long as anyone could remember, and the armies of men were not prepared for the monsters that rose out of the shadows to threaten Drom and its people. The king in those days was a proud man, as kings often are, and he set out to face them with his men at arms. The Dark Lord had not stirred himself since long before, but it was not uncommon for demons or other creatures of Bedlam to strike out on their own. There were still templars in those days, the last of the order.”

“What about the heroes?” Leto asked. “Where were they?”

Fladnag sipped his soup before answering. “You mean the four who led the lillits into the Free Kingdoms? Frodo, by all accounts, led a normal life after that adventure. He lived and died as any man would, and left children behind him. This period was well after the events I told you of before. Lady Nadia was already lost, and Lord Umber may have been alive or dead, but he no longer played a role in the kingdom he had founded. As for David, I will come to that.”

“In the Shui,” Esmelda said, “Frodo is spoken of as a lillit like any other. He helped to rally our people and assisted Mizu’s chosen, but he was not one of her heroes himself.”

Given his name, it was hard for me to imagine that Frodo had been anything other than another isekai, but that wouldn’t have been as obvious to someone who didn’t know about the Lord of the Rings.

“Frodo was far from an ordinary lillit,” Fladnag said. “He was the heart of the party of heroes, a natural purifier. The others were subject to the same curse as your William, but as long as Frodo was near, the horrors of Bedlam could not slip into this world around them.”

“Could he do anything else?” Leto asked.

“That was enough,” Fladnag said firmly. “Now, as to the king, he lost his life in the pursuit of the demons, and he was succeeded by a young son who lacked the experience to defend his kingdom. Eisenhall was breached, and the templars made their last stand before the doors of its temple. The demons commanded the elements, as well as koroshai and koloss and a host of other evils, and it seemed that the strength of men alone would not be enough to oppose them.”

“Swords and spears and courage,” Gastard said. “What else is there?”

“There was one among them,” Fladnag said, “who had something more. Yusef was a templar among templars. His blade was blessed by the goddess, and he carried the marks of a lifetime spent in contest with the shadows. As other warriors fell, he remained, until there were no monsters left but the demons themselves. They feared approaching him, and their magic failed before his blade, but he could not defend the temple alone. They nearly brought it down.”

“Nearly?” Leto said, caught up in the tale.

“Nearly.” Fladnag scratched at his beard. “The battle lasted through the night, and with the sun came a new beast, one more terrible than all that had come before. The men of Eisenhall despaired as they beheld wings great enough to blot the sun. Claws as long as swords, and a maw that spewed black fire. Even Yusef lost hope, believing the demons had summoned a horror from the deepest pits of Bedlam to finish what they could not.”

“The Dragon of the End,” Esmelda said, her voice soft.

“The same.”

That was a bit much, I wanted to complain. But who was to blame, Mizu? What were the chances that one of the most powerful monsters they knew of in Plana also happened to be the final boss of Maincraft? The Ender Dragon wasn’t that hard to beat in the game, you could do it barehanded if you were patient, but I doubted this version would share the weakness of exploitable programming.

“It appeared that the doom of the city had come with those black wings,” Fladnag said, "but it was not so. The dragon turned upon the demons and devoured them, leaving the temple intact. It left the city, and Yusef went in pursuit of it. Whether to offer thanks or to slay it, he did not say.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Esmelda said. “I had not heard this story, but the Shui speaks of the Dragon of the End as an agent of chaos. It heralds the end of the world, and can only appear when the taint of Bedlam has all but overwhelmed the world.”

“Why did it help them?” Leto asked.

“Ah, well,” Fladnag said. “That is the mystery. It did not speak for itself, but I do not believe it was the Dragon of the End itself that day, but an imitation.”

“How does that work?” I said.

“David.” Fladnag looked into the fire. The structure was better ventilated than my original shelters had been, but the smell of its smoke was still strong. “It was his gift to steal the strengths of beasts and monsters, and even take their forms.”

“But how would he take that shape,” I said, “if a dragon like that had never been able to enter Plana before?”

“The creatures of Bedlam move back and forth between worlds,” Fladnag said. “And the Dark Lord was said to have built a portal that allowed him to visit Bedlam, is that not so?”

There were two portals like that I knew of. Kevin’s, and the one under the mine in Williamsburg.

“Are you saying that Captain Murderface went to Bedlam, fought one of those dragons, and came back to save the day?”

“Little is recorded of David’s whereabouts after the founding of Drom,” Fladnag said, “but I have no reason to believe he was truly gone. Mizu’s chosen have many gifts, and they are said to return to life if they are slain in battle if their spirits are not broken with their flesh. David would not break. I do not pretend to know why he would have hidden himself, but I believe he is with us still, somewhere, in some guise.”

I half expected Fladnag to change shape right then and reveal that he’d been Captain Murderface the whole time, but the old man stayed an old man, and he looked tired.

“Thank you for the story,” I said, setting down my unfinished bowl of soup. The harpies could be heard crying in the sky above the shelter, signaling the appearance of the first phantoms of the night. “I think I should get to work.”

I touched Esmelda on the shoulder, and she wished me luck. Outside, Astaroth was already standing beyond the edge of the torchlight, waiting for more monsters to appear. I gave him a wave. The peacock demon might have been the most agreeable of the lot. He’d sworn to serve me without asking anything in return, and he did whatever he was asked without complaint. I could have used more demons like that.

Orichalcum armor would be too heavy for Gastard. He was a strong man, but without the enhancements the System had made to my body, I wouldn’t have been able to walk around in the set I wore.

So Gastard was getting diamond.

I’d never crafted anything out of diamond before. It shouldn’t have worked, but it was true to the game, and the System obliged. Diamond armor had the same defense ratings as orichalcum, but the crafting logs noted that it was less durable and didn’t protect you from Knockback effects. Falling from a great height would be more dangerous for him, but it was almost as good.

Gastard came out to see the result. He stared at my creation for what felt like a long time.

“It is…ostentatious,” he said.

The diamonds weren’t perfectly translucent, they had a bluish cast, and countless facets that glittered in the torchlight. If anything, it was more ridiculous than the set I wore, which was at least recognizably made of metal.

“I’ll throw on some enchantments,” I said. “You won’t regret it.”

“I am grateful,” he cleared his throat. “Truly.”

It looked like stained glass, costume pieces that would shatter under the first solid blow. This was the same material that I trusted to keep Kevin confined. Gastard could think whatever he wanted about the aesthetics, but when we went into battle, he would see what it could do.