Henrik Saetre
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Riftside 2 - Chapter 44
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 12:10:45 +0000 UTCThe familiar heat and rhythmic clang of Steel & Scale put a smile on my face as we entered the wide open doors. Pa whirled from his anvil as I rapped on the door, hammer rising. Not Platemaw’s Fury, just a trusty workhorse.
“Jumpy?” I asked as he relaxed, wiping sweat from his bow.
“Skinwalkers always make me uncomfortable,” Pa said, looking at Torsten standing beside Knut.
“Skinwalker?” Knut asked.
“Monsters in human form,” Pa said, setting down the forging hammer and wiping his hands on his thick leather apron, leaving dark streaks behind. “Color blind fools who can’t see the difference between red and blue, thinking their blood is special. Or a human and a monster. Or a monster in a human’s skin. Bah!”
“Ah,” Knut said and nodded.
“So, this is the brother Knut keeps talking about,” Pa said, his change of tone easily discernible.
Torsten straightened, trying to look taller than his stocky frame allowed.
"Torsten Coinshield Steelwall," he replied, offering a calloused hand for Pa to shake. "It's an honor, Mr. Tharen. Knut… well, he doesn't say much, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but when he mentioned you in his letters, he said you were the finest damn smith he'd ever known."
Pa's bushy eyebrows shot up. He slanted a look at Knut, who suddenly found a loose rivet on his boot utterly fascinating.
"Did he now?" Pa grunted, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "High praise from that one, if I were to believe it. Must've been a good mail day, or maybe he was just trying to sell you a load of bollocks, huh, big guy?" Pa joked.
Knut grunted but didn’t say anything.
Pa clasped Torsten’s hand, and I saw their knuckles go white as they both squeezed, smith to smith.
"Thomas Tharen. But everyone here calls me Pa, so you are free to do so as well.”
I chuckled and stuck my head into the shop and called for Ma to see about the house across the street. She confirmed the Gordon place was still available, which swept an invisible weight off my shoulders. There’s no way we could house the seven of them in our house or the smithy.
Ma exchanged greetings, and I explained where we stood with everything at the moment. She excused herself and hurried off to help Freja and the kids get settled.
“Torsten, Knut here’s told us you know your way around a forge," Pa said.
"Fifteen years' experience, sir," Torsten said proudly, puffing his chest out slightly. “I mean, Pa.” He deflated a bit at that. “I’ve served under three different master blacksmiths, though I feel I have to be honest and say none ever produced anything rare. But I’ve forged enough weapons and armor to outfit a cohort or two, and I can handle tools and repairs as well. Anything that needs a hammer and some heat, really.”
Pa nodded slowly, his gaze was critical but not unkind. We all knew him as a fair man who would give just about anyone a fighting chance, but he didn’t beat about the bush, either.
"Good. The rift knows I need the hands. Especially now. Has my son told you of our current situation?”
“Yes, Pa,” Torsten said.
“The snakes were seemingly responsible for Torsten being unable to find employment after they conveniently bought up the smithy he worked at,” I said, looking meaningfully at Pa, knowing he’d understand. “But just how did they find out? Makes you rethink everything.”
“I see,” Pa said, and then gestured with his chin towards the large, scarred dissection table, stained with the goo of countless monsters. "Know how to break down monster carcasses?"
"The basics," Torsten admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though the masters tend to prefer doing so themselves, and not risk the gems being nicked. But I reckon I’ve dissected about a hundred all together?” His eyes flickered towards a discarded piece of jagged crystal.
“A hundred? Basics?" Roq scoffed in my mind. "He probably tried tickling them apart! Tell him real dissection involves the perfect blend of finesse and violence. I want to hear the satisfying CRACKS and SPLINTERS!"
"Well, you're about to get an education then,” Pa said, grinning. “Ash’s party brings back over a hundred carcasses a week generally.”
Torsten turned and looked at me with wide eyes.
“Really?”
“Yup,” I said, and I flashed Pa seven fingers and a wink, letting him know how many Mind Gems we’re in today’s haul. “Sometimes…three times that. Depends on the week.”
“Come on,” Pa said with a grin, and led us out back.
“Why don’t you swipe out yours,” I said to Torsten.
He did, carefully laying the carcasses in a neat row.
“Pretty,” Pa said, chuckling. “Chop chop, now. Empty yours next, boys. Let's see the full bounty!”
“There’s more?” Torsten asked, looking down at the ten he’d carried for Nabeeh and Eryn.
We both understood Pa wanted to give Knut’s brother a show, so we dumped our carcasses in huge piles, Ironroot Golems, Steel Scuttlers, Crystal Strikers, Vanguards, and Weavers.
Torsten just stood there, gaping at the mass of monster carcasses. I kept the Glowcaps in my spatial, not wanting to set Pa off about the dangers of uncontrolled explosions.
"Ah, the spoils!" Roq said, his voice rumbling in my mind. "Scuttler shells, good for deflecting pathetic blows. Golem wood, burns nicely. Crystals… brittle, except when put in the correct spot. And they do glimmer beautifully! A fine harvest, even for someone like ME."
I didn’t have the heart to point out the others had done as much killing as he had, this time. And every time afterward most likely…
“This…” Torsten said, unable to find words. “I…”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you. But you’re not wrong. Good haul,” Pa said, clapping him on the back. “These are all quite basic monsters, so we can work fast." He drew Stormcutter and tapped his nail with the flat of the blade. "Let's start with five Steel Scuttlers. Victor needs those shells for a commission, and he will pay in gold."
Torsten hurried over and swiped them up.
“I can get used to this,” Pa said, chuckling to himself as he led us back in.
He spent the next hour testing Torsten’s dissection abilities, showing first how he would do it, Stormcutter finding the seams and weak points easily. However, he already had thousands of carcasses to his name and the other barely a hundred. It was just like giving someone a sword and expecting them to have the skill to beat experienced fighters after only a few practice sessions.
Torsten proved a quick study, though, and his technique was clean and precise. Pa watched him closely, offering the occasional instruction or nod of approval.
Knut helped sort the extracted materials while I started working on the commissions, hammering the Scuttler parts to specification.
"Steady hand, riiiight there,” Pa commented, pointing to an imaginary line on a Striker’s leg joint after they moved onto the Crystalkin. Torsten sliced through, cleanly separating it without the material shattering.
"Good,” Pa said.
Torsten sighed in relief.
“These are complicated monsters,” he said. “Hard not to make any mistakes.”
“Nor can you afford to make any," Pa grunted, turning his attention to one of the Vanguards. "Waste costs coins. Especially now."
He traced careful lines around the torso, gently teasing the blade inside. Then he sheathed Stormcutter and gripped the plate in both hands, and with a grunt, ripped it straight off to show the monster’s insides. He handed the huge piece to Torsten, drew his blade again, and sliced a shallow line from its throat to its pelvis.
Torsten leaned in as Pa wiggled his hand into the cut, rooted around, and pulled out a Mind Gem.
“Wow!” Torsten said. “That’s the third mind gem! By the Forge, that’s thirty gold so far just in gems!" He looked around, his face alight with triumph.
“Yaay!” I said, trying to conjure the correct amount of joy for such a discovery, but it was hard to get it right when I already knew it had a gem.
Torsten’s expression faltered as he looked among us.
“Good find,” Pa said as he handed me the gem.
Knut continued sorting Weaver legs as if nothing had happened.
Oh, crap.
I met Pa's eyes briefly. Torsten definitely knew something was off, and his mind was working on overtime to process it all.
“Maybe I can lie and tell him we’re nervous about the Domitius situation?”
“No. Just tell him the truth, Ash,” Roq said. His tone wasn't boastful or bloodthirsty, just flatly pragmatic. "Ignorance in a smith is a liability. We’ve seen the cost of keeping things a secret here. What if he breaks a gem not knowing there is one? A weak link can break the chain of production, and I need this chain strong. We need him to be useful, or he's just dead weight."
He wasn't wrong. Keeping this from Torsten while he worked beside us day in and day out, handling potentially gemmed carcasses… it was, if not impossible, at least implausible. And dangerous.
“Why aren’t you more excited?” Torsten asked. “How common are Mind Gems here?”
If he got a weird feeling and told the wrong person, it could do more damage to us all than him possibly knowing.
I looked at Pa and he shrugged. It was up to me.
“If he doesn’t handle it well, we’ll just kill him.”
“Really?”
“Oh, wait. No. He’s Knut’s brother. We can’t kill him, can we?”
“No, we can’t. I’m glad you figured that out all on your own.”
“Well. Worst case we break his jaw so he can’t talk, chain him up in here, and force him to forge for us day and night!”
I sighed. It was a step in the right direction, kind of?
"Torsten," I said. "There's… something else. About the gems."
He looked from me to Knut to Pa, confusion clouding his face.
"What about them? We’ve found three! That's great luck!"
“Not exactly," I said, keeping my voice low despite the sound of Pa ripping into the carcass. "I have an ability. A part of my class, maybe? I can sense mind gems inside carcasses. Before they're cut open."
Torsten stared, his mouth slightly open. He looked at Knut, searching his brother’s stoic face for confirmation.
Knut turned to meet his brother's gaze.
"It's true,” he said but paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. Then he walked over and placed a heavy hand on Torsten's shoulder. “It how we survive, brother. How we build future." His grip tightened slightly. “Most valuable secret. Understand? People would die if someone found out.”
Torsten gulped and nodded.
“No breathing word of this. Not even whisper over ale.” Knut paused and then held up a finger. “No drinking until you make secret part of your bones and it won’t spill out when drunk. Sober until you live it. No telling even Freja. Not yet. Not until you're settled and Domitius trouble dealt with.”
Torsten swallowed hard and glanced at the door, as if expecting Guild officials or blue-blooded spies to burst in.
"I… I understand, Knut. My lips are sealed." He let out a slow breath. "A secret like that... they'd take it. Take you."
“Who’s they?”
“Pick one.”
“Oh. Everyone.”
“Correct,” I said, to both Roq and Torsten.
I saw understanding dawning as a flicker of fear mixed with awe in his face, and the implications for wealth, power, and danger settled over him. He looked out towards the back and the carcasses waiting outside.
"An ability like that… By the blessed hammer. How many? How many gems did you bring back?"
Knut smiled grimly.
"Seven."
Torsten's knees actually buckled. He staggered back, catching himself on the corner of the nearest anvil, his face pale beneath the grime.
"Seven?" he whispered, his voice barely a whisper. "Seven mind gems? That's… that's seventy gold! A mercenary's purse! Enough to feed my family for over a year!"
I managed a chuckle, despite the grim reality hanging over us.
“Yes. If we can get House Domitius off our backs, pay down the debt, and get some breathing room… we can make our families strong, Torsten. Strong enough to face whatever the Rifts throw at us."
"And rich enough to never have to listen to any jumped-up noble again," Pa added fiercely, slamming a spiked hammer into the Vanguard’s hip, breaking the socket and freeing the leg. Chips flew across the work benches and floor.
A fire lit in Torsten's eyes. The shock faded, replaced by fierce determination. He pushed himself off the anvil and rolled up his sleeves further, revealing his thick, corded forearms. "Right then," he said, his voice still a bit shaky. "I'm here now. I'm family. What do you need me to do?"
Pa grinned, the expression fierce and almost predatory.
“Enough dissecting for now.” He picked up a jagged piece of steelhusk plating from a nearby bench. "Ever had the pleasure of working with steelhusk before, lad?"
Torsten shook his head, eyeing the notoriously difficult material with wary respect.
“Got to hold pieces a few times, is all. It isn’t a very common material.”
"Steelhusk," Roq mused. "Stubborn stuff. Resists impact well. Needs precise, overwhelming force to break. Like Knut. Or clever leverage. Like how Katherine got Knut to stop wearing his armor to their dates.”
“What exactly do you know of the leverage she used?”
“I heard Knut grumbling of cleavage, so I expect she was using a larger cleaver or possibly an axe? Maybe a big one that could…hmm…cleavage. Yes, that is the way.”
I chuckled.
“Something like that.”
"Well then," Pa said, clapping Torsten on the shoulder, which was almost like a gesture of acceptance. "You're in for a treat. Working with steelhusk is like forging with something that actively wants to kill you. Resists the hammer, dulls the blade, and throws sparks like insults. Makes you respect the craft all over again."
Torsten squared his shoulders.
"I'm ready," he said firmly. "Whatever it takes to help our families."
He glanced meaningfully at Knut.
"Good man," Pa said. "Now, grab that hammer and listen closely. We've got some commissions to forge, carcasses to break down, and gold to earn so you haven’t come all this way for nothing. We need to keep the forge at all costs."
Pa began instructing Torsten on the finer points of handling steelhusk without losing a finger, starting with how to secure it properly in the vise, using thick leather padding.
Minutes quickly turned to hours, and Torsten was quickly proving his worth, and learning fast. His initial awe was replaced by a smith's concentration.
A rapping sound on the workshop door rang out, and I turned to see Eryn’s smiling face taking in the scene.
“Still at it?” she asked, her voice carrying over the din. “Freja and the kids are all moved into the Gordon place. We’ve helped them get settled. Widow Gordon was still staying at the Hollow Hearth with her kids. Couldn’t stomach the house.”
“How’s she holding up?” I asked.
“Matron Kora has taken them under her wing,” Eryn said. “Lets the older kids help out too.”
“Good,” Pa grunted, not looking up from the Steel Scuttler plate he was putting the finishing touches on.
“We’re just about done prepping the commission pieces,” I said. “Join me to deliver a few of them?”“Of course!” Eryn said. “I’ll just help carry water for the kids’ baths first. And you,” she said, looking me up and down. “Head out back and scrub yourself down before we go. You are filthy from forging.” She gave me a quick smile before disappearing.
