Chapter 3 – Part 2 – The Armory
“Those of you with black admission cards, to me,” he called. “There should be thirty of you. You’re mine for the next three months.”
Anrui had called for thirty, but a meagre eight sifted out through the Riptide’s passengers and made their way toward him. Most shuffled off toward Grale Hammerhand the squat Moorish instructor, or Caspiain Mercer, far off to one side, black-cowled and holding up his red token.
Rhayd and his party were in the forefront of the eight new Blackcards. Flanked by Kintere and Mireya, the young martinet thrust out his black-rimmed admission chit almost violently.
Distracted by the distinct lack of Blackcards, Anrui took the chit from his first student and glanced over it, before tucking it in his small scrip. His brows furrowed. Shoulders tightening, Frost drew the card from his bag again and took a long look at it before tilting his head toward the stone-faced man before him.
“Khalenn? Where are you from, man? Not Keen Rimmor, surely? I knew a Jayce Khalenn from there. No relation, I’d expect?”
The young noble looked startled for a moment, before screwing his eyes up and pursing his lips in visible annoyance.
“Likely a cousin,” the young man grumbles, trying his best not to elaborate. “My father’s branch of House Khalenn left Keen Rimmor during the War, fifteen years ago.” Somehow, he felt that this brash young teacher would either not care, or worse, think little of him as a braggart noble. Everything about Anrui Frost screamed common-born, forcing Rhayd to the edge of his diplomatic skill to play the subordinate.
“Mm,” the Regulator hummed, tapping the black wood card against his fingers. His eyes, staring far off into the distance over the water unfocused for a moment, gaining a subtle glow.
Magic.
The effect of which was not apparent, however, when the focus came back to the mage’s eyes and he looked Rhayd over once more.
“It looks like the ship carrying the rest of my little minions has been delayed out of East Yeun by a rather thick storm and a drunken captain. Looks like we, and possibly one more, are it for the interim.”
The mage pointed behind him toward the barracks, tucking the card back into his pouch.
“That’s barracks,” he said, stating the obvious and pointing in succession to a set of low-lying black stone buildings. “That’s mess, the Admin building, and the Armoury. We’ll he heading there first. And there,” he said a little more quietly, indicating a sprawling wall butting up against the bay on the cliffs to the north. “There lies Lockwood Manor. The Baron’s men, as well as the Accord Council – Firehand, who spoke earlier – all reside there. It’s mostly off limits.”
The Regulator paused, as if to say something more, then checked himself, folded his hands behind his back under his heavy black Shaper’s cloak, and smiled at Rhayd.
“Let’s head off to the armoury. Might as well find your Athama while we can, hm?”
Anrui stopped in front of the long, low armoury building, turning back to Rhayd and the group.
“This,” he said softly, tugging one of the long crystal knives from his hip sheath, “is an Athama. It’s the most commonly used Focus for Dweomercrafting, and what you’ll be training with first. They aren’t always knives, that was the personal affinity I had. They aren’t always crystalline either. Stones, minerals, many crystals, gems if you can find them large enough – mine are blue diamond as you can see. Objects, metals, carved wood in some cases. Everyone has a differing affinity.”
The Regulator slid the shimmering knife home.
“In the armoury, there are stocks of metals and stone from Keen Rimmor. Minerals from Tan Maevin and Lorn by the Sea, and even some more exotic crystals from the markets in Absolution that our agents have found and brought back here. Your first task, as with all students, is to sift through the static and find something that calls out to you. Now, they’re all raw in there, so hope for something large, as it can be carved into more than one Focus. Both of my knives are made from the same diamond. One of the others has a wand, two wristlets and a pendant chipped out from the same piece of ruby. Don’t worry, though, if the thing seems of less quality. All worth a Focus has is created by its owner, as you’ll find out.”
The Regulator stepped aside and pushed the door open into the hot furnace blow of the armoury’s forging floor.
“Any questions,” he said with a short smile, “just come root me out. I’ll be in here, speaking with the forge master.”
“I have one,” Kintere volunteered, raising his hand. “What should we be looking for, really? Are knives better than, say, wands or wristlets? Edv… I mean, I met a Regulator who had all three, never thought to ask.”
“Good question. I have no idea.”
The Regulator seems to ponder this for a few moments before lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
“In addition to Athama, Foci can be many things. Few non-military Dweomercrafters use Athama, most use bangles or wristlets as their Foci. I’ve got but one,” he holds up his left wrist, where rests a bracelet cut circular from a single rutilated quartz, “And I barely use it to tell the truth. We’ll see what happens.”