Kage moved silently through the hallways of the Fortress.
Black Steel Fortress stood among the oldest structures in Ironstorm Clan—it had even served a crucial role during the early days of the Great Convergence, some twenty thousand years past. It ranked amongst the clan’s first constructions, along with the entire territory of the Middlepass—a thin stretch bridging the western and northern lands of the continent that, naturally, belonged to the Clan.
Thin as it was, the land boasted thick forest and mountainscape teeming with vicious Impures—the kinds that only the Ironstorm Clan proved worthy of slaying. Far easier to let them claim it. Not that other clans dared lay claim to it anyway.
Toward the western wing of the Middlepass sat Blacksteel, positioned dead center in one of those forward outposts.
The fortress itself was carved against the mountain that served as the forest’s backdrop. It rose with black timber forming the wooden palisades, stonebone foundations, and Storm-bound mortar used as binding agents to fuse the fortress to the mountain. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ N()velFire.net
Of course, these unique building methods were the least fascinating thing about this world.
Blacksteel fortress, for all its former glory as a bastion, now existed only to contain scraps the clan couldn’t afford to discard. They maintained strict rules and fierce pride. Even a failure of the Ironstorm clan proved too precious to be seen groveling in the dirt.
Whether it was a failed Pure Armament, a botched Severance art, or a talentless bastard child.
Kage descended the hall and the stairs leading to the fortress’s rear yard—not the open yard facing the forest, but the one carved into the mountain’s dark Hollows.
As he drew closer, the rhythmic pounding of beaten metal grew louder and began vibrating through the cave walls and ground.
Kage finally stopped before a blazing cavern room, its heavy metallic doors opened wide.
Inside worked a one-armed man, hammering molten metal while sweat poured from his body. He looked like a fallen god, condemned to forge nothing but ruins no matter his efforts.
Kage stood watching, admiring the savage strength and precision with which Master Shinro wielded his hammer and shaped the metal.
Not to mention enduring the forge’s merciless heat.
The man finally stopped after several minutes, seized the red-hot metal with round-jaw tongs, and plunged it into water—making it shriek terribly.
As he turned from the table, he noticed Kage standing in the doorway.
Immediately, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
"Young master, w—what... may I ask why you’ve come?"
Kage, who had been leaning against the doorframe with folded arms, straightened with a slight smile and stepped forward.
He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply.
’Hmm, the sharp scent of iron and steel, this familiar heat that wraps around the body like second skin.’
[The Wolf of the North stares begrudgingly—they miss the forge’s heat and grow nostalgic at your words]
Shinro glanced at Kage nervously.
Kage looked down at the kneeling man, then at the fiery metal Master Shinro had plunged into the quench tub moments ago—now resting on the anvil.
"There’s something fascinating about metal, Master Shinro. Don’t you think?"
Master Shinro glanced at the anvil, a strange expression crossing his face.
"And what would that be, Young master?"
Kage stepped closer to the anvil, staring down at the cooling steel.
"How viciously they refuse to break. Watching you just now had me thinking—metals are intriguing pieces of existence, if they can be called that. Each hammering requires precise force to stretch each metal properly. But isn’t it fascinating that no matter how brutally they’re hammered, they don’t shatter? Despite being perpetually plagued by heat that should tear anything else apart from the inside, it only stretches them, refines them."
"And then when you see the finished work... the flawless blade capable of cutting down anything. It makes every effort worthwhile. It compensates for the pain."
Master Shinro sighed, glancing at the bucket of broken blades beside the anvil.
"That requires the skill of a master forger and metal that can bend and stretch. You might not know this, young master, but some metals simply aren’t built for forging."
Kage studied the man with a somewhat despondent expression.
[The Weaver of Sorrow shakes their head sorrowfully and wipes a tear]
[The Witch of Mirrors stifles laughter]
[The Wolf of the North nods in agreement with Master Shinro]
Kage paid them no attention—or rather, before he could, Master Shinro’s voice cut through.
"Young master, is there a particular reason you’re here...?"
"Yes, Master Shinro. I need your help."
Master Shinro, still on his knees, studied the young master carefully, intently.
’Why is it suddenly so difficult to read him... almost like he’s become another person...’
"How may I help you, young master?"
Kage hesitated briefly, then smiled.
"I wish to send a message to my father."
Master Shinro’s eyes widened, then narrowed immediately.
"Forgive me, young master, but since Lord Patriarch cast you and Lady Renka here, he hasn’t spared a glance for your existence. We’ve been completely alone, with no contact to the outside world."
Kage regarded the man with indifferent eyes. Then he slowly crouched down, dropping lower than him, and looked up at his face with a small, ghostly smile.
"Don’t lie to me, Master Shinro..."
Master Shinro instinctively trembled, then caught himself immediately.
This was certainly a fifteen-year-old boy—the young master was talentless and harmless... but still...
’What is this dangerous feeling I’m getting from him?’
Master Shinro wavered, confused.
Kage glanced at the anvil and sighed.
"See, I know you communicate with someone outside using morse code—the metal ringing at dawn. It happens every dawn. There’s a pattern and rhythm to it. How could one not notice such things?"
Shinro was truly clever with his methods. The only way he’d discovered the secret communication was through Shinro’s diaries, when he’d taken up forging as a hobby after years of boredom. He’d rifled through the fallen Purists’ belongings extensively and found many useful secrets.
Including one he was about to use...
But nobody had to know that part.
Master Shinro sighed and looked down.
He probably felt confused and wanted to ask countless questions. But he was also conscious of his situation and its implications.
"Whatever decision you reach, I will accept..."
Kage watched him silently for a while, then spoke.
"I’m not in a position to discard you, Master Shinro. And you haven’t particularly sworn allegiance to me. It stings that you were the Clan’s eyes on us, but what did I expect? Especially when they have your daughter..."
Master Shinro’s eyes widened in shock at this point. He could no longer ignore the suspicion clawing at his mind.
His mouth trembled as he questioned.
"Y—young master, h—how did you...?"
Kage ignored the question.
"I want you to scratch my back... and I’ll scratch yours, Master Shinro. I want to send a message to my father. Will you help me or not?"
Kage knew, of course, that Master Shinro could choose not to help him. At the end of the day, he was a talentless bastard. Contrary to appearances, Kage didn’t delude himself into thinking he held bargaining power.
What he simply wanted was to use the old man’s emotions against him.
Years of sending information on Kage and his mother to the Clan, after living with them and being treated like family. Surely his sentimentality clashed with his duty, but the thread of determination that kept him going was his daughter.
"I’m not asking for your loyalty or anything like that. I just want you to send a message. That’s all."
Master Shinro stared at him for several heartbeats.
Kage slowly stood, looking down at the man, a dangerous gleam flickering in his violet eyes.
"Tell him I want to attend the Golden Jade Grand Academy."
Master Shinro frowned up at him.