24th of Aprílios (April), Gudéra (Sunday), 834 (Year).
Apollyon threw himself wholeheartedly into the task assigned to him by Orin, his focus unwavering as he worked on designing the croclith-scale whip. Over the course of the next few days in-between military drills, various lessons and contribution point tasks, he dedicated his spare time to meticulous planning, striving to create a weapon that was not only innovative but also reliable and effective. He knew that the 'special quest' was a turning point in his adventure, so he made sure to double down on his efforts. He was acutely aware that the quest's hidden rewards served a meaningful purpose.
As Apollyon meticulously sketched out the design for the croclith-scale whip, he couldn't help but admit to himself that this task was unlike any other he had undertaken in the world of blacksmithing. It wasn't just a matter of crafting a weapon; it was a venture into an entirely different realm of craftsmanship. His inner thoughts on the matter were marked by a candid acknowledgment of his own limitations.
He often paused for a couple of moments and allowed his thoughts to wander. "Whips," he would muse to himself, "I've seen them used, I've heard the crack of their impact, but I've never truly understood their construction."
It was true. Apollyon's knowledge of whips was limited to the basic common sense that most individuals possessed. He knew they consisted of a flexible body and were wielded with skill to deliver strikes or create a loud cracking sound. But the intricacies of their design and the nuances of their craftsmanship remained largely uncharted territory for him to explore.
He let out a quiet sigh, his brow furrowing in thought. "I'm stepping into unfamiliar territory once again," he admitted to himself. "Designing a whip required not only creativity but a nuanced understanding of how it functions, how it balances between flexibility and rigidity, and how every component contributes to its performance."
His design process followed a logical approach, blending his creative vision with practical considerations. He sought to create a whip that was both compact and versatile, capable of serving as a formidable weapon and a tool of utility. Every element had to have a purpose, every feature a function.
One of the key elements in Apollyon's design was a metallic cone-shaped object affixed to the end of the whip. This anchor-like feature served a dual purpose. It would deliver devastating damage upon impact, making the whip a formidable weapon in combat. At the same time, it would serve as a practical tool for securing objects acting as a counterweight or providing stability when needed.
His vision for such an object was simple, he knew that the added weight would increase the weapon's offensive abilities whilst on the other hand, he saw practicality in it. He proposed that the object could serve as an 'anchor' able to embed itself into walls and other surfaces useful for climbing actions. However, he was also aware of the disadvantages relating to the weight and its effects on the whip's elasticity, but he foresaw that this world's inhabitants especially cultivators alike would more than likely outweigh this mortal problem.
Apollyon's attention to detail extended to the alignment of the croclith scales along the body of the whip. He understood that the arrangement of these scales would impact both the weapon's aesthetics and its performance. Each scale had to be meticulously positioned to maximize the whip's efficiency in striking and to create a visually striking pattern.
He opted for a double scale arrangement along the body of the whip akin to a viper's fang with serrated edges to maximize grip and damage. He deliberated hooked scales for a more practical grip, but he abandoned this idea for he knew that the scales weren't durable enough to withstand repeated use if he were to implant this feature on the scales.
As he deliberated on the whip's construction, Apollyon pondered a crucial choice: the material for the whip's body. He weighed the merits of two options: the elasticity of a leather strap or the durability of a metallic chain. The leather offered supreme flexibility and maneuverability, while the metal chain provided enhanced strength and resilience. It was a decision that would shape the whip's character and functionality.
Therefore, he left out two descriptions along the sides of the parchment detailing his arrangements about this. He left it for the crafters discretion whether or not to implement leather or chain whilst informing them of their advantages and disadvantages. He knew that the former was a cheaper option.
The handle of the whip received its fair share of attention in Apollyon's design. It needed to be comfortable to grip, providing the wielder with precise control over the weapon. He considered various materials and textures, aiming to strike a balance between functionality and aesthetics.
As the days passed and Apollyon's design took shape on paper, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Crafting the croclith-scale whip was not just a creative endeavor; it was a reflection of his dedication to the art of blacksmithing and his determination to make a grand effort in the special quest granted to him.
With each stroke of his inked quill and with every minute spent in contemplation, Apollyon was inching closer to bringing his design to life. The forge, with its fires and its secrets, had inspired him to push the boundaries of what he could achieve with craftsmanship. Like an architect sketching up building plans, he continued to theorize different aspects revolving around the practicality of such a whip and on the fourth day, he finally presented his designs to the lead smith.
Apollyon felt a sense of both anticipation and nervousness as he presented his meticulously designed croclith-scale whip plans to the lead smith, Orin. The parchment containing his design held not only the visual blueprint but also his carefully detailed thoughts and processes regarding the weapon along the sides of the paper.
Orin studied the design with the intensity of a seasoned artisan. His eyes traced the lines and markings, and he examined the placement of the croclith scales, the construction of the metallic anchor, and the choice of materials for the whip's body. He was a discerning observer, and his questions were specific, probing into the very heart of Apollyon's creation.
"Why the choice of a metallic anchor at the end?" Orin inquired; his voice measured but curious.
Apollyon, standing before his mentor, replied with patience and confidence. "The metallic anchor serves two purposes, Master Orin. Firstly, it enhances the whip's striking power, delivering greater damage upon impact. Secondly, it acts as a practical tool for various utility purposes adding versatility as I've promised before.
Orin nodded in understanding, his gaze returning to the design. "And the alignment of the croclith scales along the whip's body, explain your reasoning behind that."
Apollyon elaborated on his choice, describing how the scales had been meticulously arranged not only for aesthetic appeal but also for optimal striking efficiency. He emphasized how the serrated edges of the scales were positioned to inflict maximum damage upon contact.
"What's the typical length of the whip?"
"Around two or three metres depending on its intended use, but I suggest using a smaller length for combat purposes" Apollyon suggested thoughtfully.
As Apollyon answered Orin's questions with confidence, he couldn't help but sense Helvar's presence nearby. It was as if Helvar was watching their interaction with a mixture of curiosity and, to Apollyon's discerning eye, lingering hostility.
The subtle tension that had been present between them since Apollyon's proposal for the croclith-scale whip remained, and it was not lost on Apollyon. He could still make out the minute signs of Helvar's animosity, emanating from the protege's body language and unspoken glances.
It left Apollyon pondering once again about the source of Helvar's hostility. Was it a sense of competition, a fear of being overshadowed, or something deeper that he couldn't fathom?
Orin, after thoroughly examining Apollyon's design and listening to his thoughtful explanations, couldn't help but be impressed. The lead smith was known for his discerning eye and uncompromising standards, and Apollyon's design had earned his respect.
"Tiro," Orin said with a nod, "you've put considerable thought and creativity into this design. It's clever and inventive, and it has the potential to be an exceptional weapon. Well done."
Apollyon offered a faint, appreciative nod in response to Orin's praise. However, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts beyond the lead smiths' words of encouragement. A larger purpose had lingered on his thoughts.
Orin, continued, "I will begin crafting this whip based on your design. Once it is completed, you shall receive your reward as promised."
Despite the genuine appreciation in Orin's words, Apollyon's demeanor remained nonchalant. He had come to the forge not only for recognition or rewards but to uncover the deeper mysteries of his special quest, he was infinitely more interested in what reward he would get from the system rather than the rewards he could get from Orin.
As Orin and Apollyon concluded their discussion about the croclith-scale whip, an interruption came in the form of Helvar, who approached the lead smith with an air of eagerness that was thinly veiled. He carried with him a set of designs for a reinforced armor, clearly intent on drawing the lead smith's attention and showcasing his own achievements.
Helvar, with a certain flourish, presented his designs to the lead smith, his words filled with an enthusiasm that bordered on competition. "Master Orin, I've been working on a set of reinforced armour," he began, "crafted from the finest materials available in our forge. I believe this design not only offers unmatched protection but also combines artistry with functionality" he beamed.
Orin, ever the patient mentor, listened attentively to Helvar's presentation. He examined the designs with a discerning eye, nodding thoughtfully as Helvar explained the intricacies of his work. He provided constructive feedback and guidance, whilst Helvar was eager to receive his mentor's approval.
Apollyon simply stood on the sidelines and observed this charade with a hidden smile that betrayed a hint of amusement. He couldn't help but see through Helvar's thinly veiled attempt to hog the lead smith's attention. It was a display of childish competitiveness, and it contrasted sharply with Apollyon's own approach to craftsmanship, his inner thoughts couldn't help but betray a sense of disappointment.
'Is this it?' Apollyon mused inwardly; his concealed smile now replaced with a more sombre expression. 'I had thought Helvar to be a clever and resourceful craftsman, perhaps even a mastermind like Cicero. But it seems like I may have overestimated him.'
Apollyon had admired the cunning and strategic thinking of Cicero who had invoked the air of chaos between Gorm and Quintus, in fact, he felt somewhat inspired by him. He had anticipated that Helvar, with his talent, might have possessed a similar depth of character and a more refined approach to achieving recognition.
Yet, what he witnessed now was far from the calculated, shrewd actions he had expected. Helvar's display of childish competition and the eagerness to hog Orin's attention fell short of Apollyon's expectations.
'Craftsmanship is not just about boasting skill', Apollyon reflected silently. 'I'd like to think of it as about artistry, innovation, and the pursuit of excellence. Seeking validation and attention like this, …it's a shallow pursuit. Alas, he is nothing more than a wounded dog wishing for attention.'
He couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment in the young protege's actions. The possibility of mental battles with an experienced individual excited him, perhaps this was one of the reasons why he put a lot of emphasis on Cicero.
Subsequently he knew that the forge was a place where talent and dedication should shine, not a stage for seeking applause. Apollyon hoped that Helvar would one day recognize his underlying incompetence and display some sort of redeeming actions.
Apollyon's observant gaze shifted towards Iana, who stood silently to the side, her expressions concealed beneath a veil of quiet diligence. As he watched her work, a nagging thought crept into his mind: 'Is Helvar the reason for her silence? Or am I simply overthinking things?'
The possibility gnawed at him. He couldn't help but wonder if Helvar's constant need for attention and his display of childish competitiveness had played a role in shaping Iana's unique demeanor. It was as if her silence was a reaction to the boisterousness of her fellow protege.
A sense of empathy welled up within Apollyon. He couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Iana if she had indeed withdrawn into silence as a response to his behaviour. As he continued to observe, Apollyon couldn't shake the feeling that Helvar's actions might be a different form of bullying, albeit a subtle one.
As Apollyon observed the dynamics between Helvar, Iana, and the unspoken tensions within the smithy, a conflicted sense of empathy warred with a more pragmatic perspective within him. The question echoed in his mind: "Why should I care?"
He acknowledged the possible sorrows and challenges that might be at play, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was his place to intervene. After all, he reasoned, it had little to do with him personally, and there was no concrete evidence to support his inner thoughts. It could all be mere speculation, and he didn't want to make unwarranted assumptions about their relationship.
However, a weak but persistent voice in his mind still urged him to help, to bridge any divides that might exist between the proteges and foster a more supportive atmosphere within the forge. It was a noble thought, one driven by empathy and a complex responsibility as an aged soul who valued life.
Yet, the opposite and pragmatic side of Apollyon reminded him of the uncertainties of meddling in others' affairs. He questioned whether he truly understood the dynamics at play and whether his involvement would be welcome or resented.
In the end, the conflicting thoughts within him left him in a state of uncertainty. He knew one thing for sure: his primary goal was to pursue his own path, learn the craft, and uncover the more important mysteries. The intricacies of relationships within the forge, while intriguing, were secondary to his personal journey.
With a heavy sigh, Apollyon decided to carry on with his life, focusing on his own goals and aspirations. While he couldn't ignore the world around him, he also knew that he couldn't solve every mystery or mend every relationship. However, deep down he knew that he would indeed step in if Helvar forced his hands.
As Apollyon prepared to leave the smithy, he cast a final glance towards Orin, who was immersed in preparations for a crafting session. A part of him yearned to stay and watch the master blacksmith's craftsmanship, knowing that there was much he could learn from such an experience. However, he was acutely aware of his position as a newcomer and not an apprentice.
Respect for the established customs of the forge weighed on him. He knew that he hadn't been specifically invited to observe Orin's work, and he didn't want to overstay his welcome or appear presumptuous. The smithy had its own traditions and protocols, and he was keen on respecting them.
Moreover, Apollyon had other obligations calling him away. Seraphina, the enigmatic figure who had been guiding him through the mysteries of magic and anatomy, had hinted at a task for him. He had a sense that this task was important and he was excited to say the least.
With a sense of purpose, Apollyon turned to leave the forge, but not before his actions prompted an unwarranted smile of satisfaction from Helvar. The smug expression was not lost on Apollyon, and he couldn't help but wonder at the young man's motivations, but he simply shook his head with lingering disappointment.
'What a wasteman…' he thought mockingly.