Chapter 170: Subject Matter (1/2)
The Broker watched the young man exit the alley from his hidden observation point. The spy hole was virtually undetectable from the street, and was typically used by the door guards when observing visitors. Once the youth had passed from view, he made his way back to his office. There was much he needed think about, and a report he needed to make.
The Broker placed the scroll on his desk, taking a moment to revel in the elegance with which the disparate elements blended to form a composite whole, before removing the silver goblet from its hidden compartment.
Taking a stoppered vial from another, similar compartment, he poured its crimson contents in the vessel. Channeling a few fetid wisps of mana, all he could manage in his current state, he began to whisper. ”Mistress, your servant calls.”
After a few moments, a mature feminine voice emerged from the goblet, distorted as if the speaker was underwater. ”What do you have to report?”
”He has sought us out in his quest for knowledge and power, just as you have anticipated.”
”Good,” the voice purred. ”Tell me, what do you make of him?”
The Broker's gaze briefly slid over to the scroll before he answered. ”A young man of power and potential. One capable of creating miracles. He will be a force to be reckoned with, as soon as he learns to wield the authority his abilities gives him.”
”Excellent. Make every effort to accommodate him, but don't tip your hand. He needs to depend on us if we want to succeed. We cannot risk him becoming to wary of us.”
”As you wish, Mistress.” The Broker spoke again.
”What did your appraisal tell you?”
The Broker remembered the initial look he'd taken before ever entering the negotiating room, as was his habit prior to engaging in business. With the exception of his unusual class the youth's status had been disturbingly unremarkable. Especially so, considering what the Broker knew about the one known as Michael Rasmussen.
”He bears a class called Skill Master, which is unknown to me. More troubling, however, is that he's found a way to hide his titles, and not merely with a high rank Appraisal Resistance, but in a manner that lets him display his current title as None.”
There was a pause, ”Interesting. It seems the Hero has been blessed by more than just the gods. Keep me informed on this subject.” The voice issued once more, as the crimson fluid in the goblet evaporated, leaving it spotless once more.
With practiced ease, the Broker replaced the items in the secret compartments, before once again returning his gaze to the scroll. He'd watched the young man make it, barely daring to believe his eyes.
The spell itself was impressive, but there have been a number of mages throughout history who could accomplish such a thing. Refining a base material through the application of mana, however, bordered on the realm of the divine. The Broker had understood immediately upon looking at the finished product. That youth had, to an admittedly minor degree, manipulated reality itself using only pure mana and willpower.
He felt the stirrings of an old excitement, long lost in the tedium of his service to his immortal patrons. Perhaps, this Mike was the key to everything he'd been hoping to achieve.
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A shiver crawled down Mike's back, leaving him momentarily wary of his surroundings. Scanning the nearby crowd, he didn't see anything to explain the sensation, and chalked it up to his imagination.
He'd decided that, after missing a few classes, why not take the whole day off and use the time to accomplish some of his other goals. At the moment he was sitting in the market district, going over the Smithing guide. After reading about the optimal temperature variance used in the smelting and forging of different metals, Mike realized he'd underestimated the complexity of the skill.
Much like with the other crafting skills he'd accumulated up to this point, acquiring the skill itself was only the first step. Understanding the craft enough to use it seemed to be another thing entirely. Deciding that some more practical experience was probably necessary, Mike headed over to The Cracked Anvil for round two of Smithing practice.
After paying Gearhart two gold for two hours, and enjoying the crestfallen look on his face as he did so, Mike got right into it.
”Put some muscle into it. You got to hit it like your life depends on it.” Brigitte was yelling from a corner of the crowded smithy, where she was repeatedly dunking a lump of coal in some viscous liquid, inspecting it, and then repeating the process.
He'd quickly learned that his smithing guide contained only a small fraction of the information necessary for a master smith to pursue their craft, and that a lot of that extra knowledge could only be acquired by experience. Although, that assumption might have just been a product of the kind of learning environment he was currently in.
”You'll need to heat it again when the metal starts going 'clunk' and not 'clank.' Make sure it's good an' hot before hitting it again.” Brigitte continued to offer advice in her usual cheerful tone.
Sighing, Mike tried to interpret the sounds the steel was making, while he attempted to bludgeon the lump into the shape of a horseshoe. It was still glowing with heat, but it'd lost the brightness it had when he first pulled it out of the forge.
[Maybe it needs to be reheated again? I think the book mentioned that you have to carefully analyze the relative heat of the metal, and perform the majority of your work while it is at an optimal temperature.]
Thrusting the vaguely curved blob of metal back into the forge, he stepped on the bellows a few times to increase the heat. Almost immediate, Brigitte walked over and started explaining how to do it properly, in her usual confusing manner. It took him a few minutes to understand what she was getting at, but he adjusted his rhythm accordingly.
After a few hours he left the smithy feeling worn out. While his skills had definitely improved to the point that he was able to make something resembling a horseshoe by the end of it, he nevertheless had a long ways to go.
He caught a carriage back to the University, using the time to scan through the rest of his newly acquired books. Coupled with the ones from the library, he had a lot to work on. With the tasks ahead of him, and the amount he would need to do in the next few days, he decided to work an all-nighter, something he'd been a little hesitant to do prior to this.
While his regeneration eliminated the physical effects of fatigue, the mental stress remained, and as a result, he had come to see sleep as vital to maintaining his sanity. This was something he'd never really put to the test, so if rest truly proved unnecessary, then it would open up a large amount of time to pursue his various interests. However, he'd unconsciously shied away from taking this step so far.