The requirements to forge the imperishable sword were staggering, to say the least.
…Unlike anything Alden ever expected.
He innately understood that Elder Grimnar had to work with something in order to create something. In other words, a material input was essential to the crafting process. Alden had thought maybe that would come in the form of an expensive yet common enough ore.
Unfortunately, not only did he have to scavenge for an extremely precious ore rarely found, it was also inside an environment where death was so abundant, so regular, that it almost made fighting a horde of Defiled more attractive than traversing it. Second only to the Pyre Peaks and the crash site of the meteor, this vast oceanic region terrified Alden.
Add to that the absurd sum of Mana Crystals he had to gather, and it all pointed towards the fact that he would have to delay his plans of wielding an imperishable sword, until he was strong enough to retrieve the materials necessary to craft it.
The white-haired young man sighed, his mood turning downcast. He shifted his gaze towards Drakon, who had a slightly apologetic look on his face.
Alden shook his head, indicating that there was no need for the red-robed heir to feel sorry. After all, the flamer wielder had compensated him, following through on his end of the deal, even if Alden's remuneration may take a little longer to come to fruition.
'What a flimsy excuse to help me cope.'
He chuckled to himself.
Shaking off his glum thoughts, Alden thanked the elderly dwarf and bid him farewell.
The crafter harrumphed, but still gave him a snide word of encouragement, something which surprised the Keeper's Apprentice greatly.
It seemed the dwarf had a soft side beneath his gruff exterior. Either that, or the honorary elder was just looking forward to the challenge of forging an imperishable sword.
'Probably the latter….'
Although, Alden hoped there was a small possibility of the former.
Alden followed Drakon back up through the Citadel of the Ember Clan, the winding corridors no longer as eerie as before. The duo returned to the room where they held their discussion prior to meeting Elder Grimnar, and Alden promptly followed through on his agreement, swearing a magical oath not to divulge what he had just seen.
Then, he also agreed to cease his enterprising activities in writing, signing a beige scroll made from old parchment that would be legally binding in the court of Flame - an audience with an Elder of the Ember Clan, and a random selection of mundane and awakened who served as the jury.
The scroll forbade him from selling his cores in any market of the Sanctuary, irrespective of the Territory. The document also declared he would be prohibited from using Ignia to create any advantage in terms of purifiying cores.
With that done, Alden was free to go.
The Ember Heir dipped his head in gratitude.
Alden reached out, accepting Drakon's handshake.
The young men lingered, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Alden nodded gravely, and Drakon's expression also turned solemn. They stood outside the Citadel like that for a moment, light snow falling around them. One of the small flakes fell right between them, on their outstretched hands.
"Good luck with the Elders."
The corner of Alden's lips twitched into a small grin.
Drakon smiled bitterly.
He laughed good-naturedly and patted Alden on the shoulder, masking how he felt.
Soon, the Keeper's Apprentice was on his way, heading back home.
Behind him, an extraordinary set of auras blanketed the Citadel of the Ember Clan like a sea of scorching fire - as if the heavens themselves were displaying their fury.
…A ghost of a smile graced Alden's face.
During his journey back home, Alden sensed the buzz and anticipation in the Sanctuary swell, as if slowly reaching a peak. The upcoming Festival was planned to start once night fell, so there were many people rushing about, trying to complete any last-minute preparations before then.
"Come on, lads! Move y'er nates!"
Alden moved out of the path of a pair of young, sweaty men hauling a wooden wagon filled to the brim with planks, bulbs, wires, and other equipment, as the individual he presumed to be their guardian, sat with the tools in the back.
He also witnessed several kids running and giggling, their faces half painted with reddish-orange paint and other extracts - evidently, preferring to dash through the light snow than to decorate themselves.
As it was the turn of a new year, the children usually wore a small outline of a fiery phoenix on their cheeks. However, not all adhered to that, with some opting for more serpentine creatures, while others simply settled for more basic drawings, either out of a sense of frugality or convenience.
Alden had never really understood the fuss. At most when he was younger, he had just dipped his fingers in the paint and streaked it across, uncaring for how it looked. He remembered being softly admonished for that, and Celeste pouting because he hadn't been as excited to celebrate as her.
Alden's expression turned soft at the memory.
Unfortunately, this Festival promised to be different. Not only were they older, which meant that any charm they once held for the festivities would most likely fade away, but also because they had gained a greater understanding of the world, and thus were infected with a maturity they shouldn't possess.
…Of course, there was also the whole issue with Celeste and their separation, which only made the idea of the Festival less appealing in Alden's mind.
He sighed, his breath kicking up a thin cloud of mist. Finally, after some more walking, he arrived home.
Alden entered the warm abode, greeting Ignia enthusiasticly as she dove into his arms.
"Oh, Son. Great timing. Come and join us for lunch."
Alden quickly took off his fur coat, and washed his face, before heading over to the dining table. There, he greeted his father and mother warmly, and sat down, his stomach hungering for food.
The trio ate a simple meal, consisting of various cuts of meat, and pickled vegetables. Celeste was noticeably absent, a fact which made Alden a little sad and uncomfortable.
He didn't like being kept in the dark.
…Was this how she felt when he kept things from her?
The realisation only increased Alden's misery.
"Hey, Mom, do you know if Cece will be back in time for the Festival?"
The older woman paused mid-bite, her expression turning contemplative.
Alden accepted the information and refrained from asking about the whereabouts of his precious love. He made eye contact with Alistair, and then averted his gaze a second later, still feeling a little guilty.
"Thanks for the meal."
He hurriedly stood up, only to be stopped by his father.
"There's a letter waiting for you upstairs. I left it on your desk."
Alden nodded, grateful.
He quickly left, leaving Ignia in the care of the Guildmaster and his wife.
True to his father's word, a sealed letter lay on his desk. It came in the form of high-quality parchment and a wax seal of an owl and a key-like quill. It took a moment for Alden to recognise the badge.
However, when he did, his muscles instinctively tensed.
After a quick glance of its contents, Alden groaned and released a turbid breath.
He reluctantly headed for the door.
...The Keeper had summoned him once more.