Whoami
High Moon
TaintedMushroom
TokyoPewPew
Deadlyrose9641
Zoie Hart
Silly
Qia
Soldat Elf
NovellaAddictGalahad Caradoc
Well, at the very least it seemed an immediate conflict would be avoided. All things considered, this was probably one of the better outcomes that could’ve been afforded them. Not to mention, some much needed downtime to restock and recuperate- thankfully on solid ground for that matter. The group of them began to slowly disperse for the day, each tending to their own needs as necessary. Glancing down at his own gear, Galahad frowned. He was in need of some repairs- and an Edren smith was not exactly in the cards. Luckily, he’d been to Drana Asnaeu once or twice before- mostly as a part of diplomatic duties, and knew a few places that could provide quality similar to that of Edren’s smiths. Lucky it was, that one of them did business within Costa Del Sol.
Looking up at those that were slower to disperse, Galahad called out to the steady swordsman, ”Arton.” He said, glancing over Arton’s equipment as he did. ”I know a smith in the area that I intend to visit. If any of your gear is in need of repair or refresh, I’d invite you to join me.”
”I appreciate the offer. There are some repairs and adjustments I need that require a proper smithy.” His voice was somewhat hoarse, if any little strained. A full, simple metal helmet covers the entirety of his features, allowing just his eyes to be seen with the right angle. The rest of the swordsman was covered in a tailored, direct mix of plate, mail, and hardened leather. It would be as hot as it was heavy.
”I'm surprised we didn't have any heat stroke incidents.” Galahad commented as he regarded Arton's armor. ”From you or I both. My armor was designed for fighting in the frigid mountains, and yours seems to lack a lot of ventilation.”
”Are you unwell, Arton?“ Galahad inquired as the two made their way down the streets of Costa Del Sol, the Dragoon informed enough to lead the way without need for direction. ”I would've thought Neve would've seen to you before the others.”
Arton’s mind returned to the conversation with Neve a few nights prior when Galahad brought up his armor’s seemingly air-tight construction. He had made it so and packed it with whatever could absorb the stench that came from the blighted parts of his body. ”I admit that it feels like I could swim in my armor after an intense fight.” He chuckled.
Arton paused for a moment at his question and nodded. ”She did come to see me shortly after we all boarded the ship together. I’ll tell you more after we get done with the smith.” The secrets he had been keeping were quickly coming to a head now. Galahad had a lot on his plate, but Arton knew it was time to let him know.
The forge in particular was unnamed, bearing no sign that otherwise denoted it's name, though the sound of constant hammerblows within the premise led them to believe that the Smith within saw no small amount of business. The Smith in question was a rather bulky and stocky Faye that went by the name of ‘Dirk’. Barely taller than the two Sollans that approached him, only his pointed ears marked him as a man of Faye origins. The Bulky Faye fixed them with a glance as the two approached. ”I've not seen a Dragoon cross my threshold in some time. Far from home aren't ye, Edreni? “
”More than you know,“ Galahad admitted, already beginning the process of removing the damaged parts of his armor. ”Most of the smaller dents I can live with, though my companion and I would have you see to some of our more worn and damaged armor.” Galahad requested, nodding to Arton as he did. He placed a bag of coins on the counter, mostly looted currency from Mizutane's mansion, though some small amount of Edreni Gil as well. ”This ought cover the costs of repair, and the rush as well. We'd like this to be done by the end of the day.”
The familiar acrid smells that came from the forge hit Arton with a sense of Nostalgia. It was in a forge just like this one in which his master had worked and passed on his knowledge to him. Perhaps it was the nature of cranky, old smiths to reside in such workshops.
Arton took his place a bit behind Galahad, letting him handle their business. It came as a surprise when the dragoon handed over a considerable sized pouch of coins. It was beyond generous. He wanted to voice his objection but one look at Galahad’s expression was enough to understand that would get him nowhere.
He removed the armor he needed work on, which included most of his plate, mail, and a few of the hardened leather pieces. Lucky for him the heat and odors from the forge covered up what smell there might have been from him. The same could not be said for the exposed skin left behind by the gaps in his armor.
Come, Arton, let us give this man his space.”
There was a small closed off yard within the smithy, meant for those to wait or test out the fit of their armor. A sparsely decorated little area, clad with young or dying grasses and a small pond, a single tree dominating the corner of the rest area. There was a single round table for seating, with a few stumps to serve as stools.
”Arton. Your arm. What has happened to you?“ Galahad asked plainly, with just a hint of wariness. It seemed that Rudolf was not the only one he needed to keep an eye on, though at this rate Galahad might have needed at least three more pairs of eyes. It was becoming almost routine at this point; another day another curse.
”Neve said something similar when she noticed too.” Arton first replied, walking over to a wooden stool before taking a seat. His gaze turned to the entrances to the yard before he began to unravel the heavy linen and leather that wrapped his left arm. Clear of the fumes and heat of the smithy, the scent was one that Galahad couldn’t mistake. ”I’ve been meaning to tell you…all of you. A few days prior to the king’s summons I was fighting blight beasts on the outskirts of a village. One of them managed to clamp its teeth on my shoulder. Guess that must have been when I got infected.” Arton looked at him with a steadfast look. If only that were everything.
”Etro above.“ Galahad swore, his face scrunching as the scent hit his nostrils. ”Pardon my language, but what the fuck?“ Ironically, despite his reaction, Galahad couldn't help but feel a small amount of relief, it was an injury, a grievous one to be sure, but not some dark spirits or Valhiemr experimentation. Or at least, he hoped so. ”Neve wasn't able to take care of that for you? What is the nature of such an injury?”
Perhaps it was lucky for them that they were in Drana Asnaeu, even if Neve couldn't heal him, chances were someone in this place would be able to, or at least know more about it.
Arton couldn’t help but stifle a weary laugh at Galahad’s reaction. He knew it was a serious issue but perhaps the talk with Neve had allowed him to somewhat come to terms with his situation. ”Trust me, I’m aware.” That brief moment of laughter soon died out with the question that came next. He shook his head as his expression grew serious. ”There was nothing she could do. As for its nature….” His hands reached down and slid a silver necklace over his head and held it out by its chain. A purple gem that was dulled and cracked hung from it.
”This was a materia I received from my master before I set out. It's supposed to increase one’s vitality. I have reason to suspect it's the only reason I’m alive right now.” He took a moment to catch his breath, gauging his friend’s reaction. ”I rarely sleep, Galahad. I find myself prone to anger. Worse yet, the moment a blightbeast enters a certain range around me the afflicted areas burn with pain.” Arton was on a death march, plain and simple.
Galahad frowned, his previous high hopes quickly dashed as he regarded the cracked materia. It didn’t seem like it was capable of providing magic anymore, more or less just a cracked bauble. The ramifications of Arton’s words were also not entirely lost on him.
”How quickly is it spreading?” Galahad asked quietly. What manner of curse or affliction was such a wound? Galahad found it hard to believe that a plain blightbeast was capable of causing such destruction- he himself had been bitten but a day into their journey. Though, with how unknown the Blight was, it stood to reason that there was a possibility of special types of infections or diseases. ”I don’t mean to sound morbid, but how much time do you predict you have left? We are in a land of healers after all, I don’t think any in the party would begrudge you if you sought out a more advanced healer- no offense intended to our dear Neve, of course.”
”Hard to say. I think…a month. Without the materia, it's definitely spreading faster. Its been on my mind since Neve talked to me. Apparently she met someone pretty skilled on her way. Perhaps she will be able to help.” If anything, he had to seek out someone or anything that could cleanse this blight from him. He knew Neve would never forgive herself if he were to perish from this. That was something he didn’t want lingering over his afterlife.
”I hate to change the subject, but there is something else I wanted to bring up to you.” Arton made sure the coast was clear before he recalled the ambush that took his parents’ lives to Galahad, about the mysterious rogue agent that orchestrated it, and how they ran off with his dear friend. It was easy to convey the details as the same nightmare had been plaguing his blight-ridden dreams every night. ”I have reason to suspect that Furi and Reisa are one and the same.”. He at last concluded, a dire look in his eyes.
”Are you certain?” Galahad asked, ”Reisa is the one that murdered Izayoi’s loved ones, if I recall correctly. For them to be the same person… Either your Furi has always been a Valheim operative- or turned soon after you lost track of them. Have you told Izayoi?”
”Not yet. We were only eight when we were separated. They must have done something to her, but I am certain she is the Furi I once knew. The gods know she haunts my dreams enough.” He sighed, his fingers running through his mess of dark brown hair. ”No matter what, she is responsible for countless deaths. I do not think Izayoi would suffer us to question her if we got the chance.”
”No, I imagine she would not.” Galahad nodded in agreement.”Izayoi seems to have few goals left- Killing Reisa seems to be one of them.”
Truth be told, Arton wasn’t sure what he even intended to do with Reisa. Countless years he imagined all the ways he would stumble upon her at long last and save her from whatever fate she had fallen into. Now it was less clear what he should do. Regardless of what he decided, he needed to at least ask her what happened. What events led her to become this twisted version of herself.
”Quite the conundrum we find ourselves in.” Galahad sighed, ”Still, I thank you for your frankness with all of this. Well. One step at a time. First let us figure out this how we’ll deal with this affliction of yours, then we can figure out how to stop Izayoi from killing Reisa- Furi, long enough for you to talk to her.”
”I feel as though finding a cure is the easier of the two. I appreciate it, Galahad. I plan on telling the rest next time we’re all together. It's about time I stop running.” He implied in his tone that he was speaking of much more than the blight. A light smirk crossed his lips. ”Say, that coin cover enough for a full plate to be made?” It might have been an odd change of topic but it was something he had been interested in.
”You’re not perhaps trying to take advantage of my generosity, are you now, Arton?.” Galahad chuckled, ”Though I suppose your gear could do with an update- especially with the trials we will no doubt face in the coming weeks. Come, we ought tell the blacksmith before he gets too deep into his work.”,
”I would never.” He laughed along with Galahad. ”Yeah, I have some designs I want to show him. I just hope he can make it to spec.” Arton nearly lost himself in the passion of his craft before catching himself. ”Galahad, thanks for hearing me out.” It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
