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There was a brief charging noise as his HP refilled itself, restored to max after the completion of the duel. But there was no sadness or disappointment on his end at the fact. On the contrary, Meliadol was walking on air, high on what he felt was the true success of the duel.
He had forced the blacksmith to acknowledge him.
Meliadol accepted the blacksmith's hand and the man easily pulled him to his feet.
Grimsaw didn't let go right away though, prompting Meliadol to meet his gaze, "Thee didst well. Thee has't improve greatly." The blacksmith gave him a meaningful look before continuing, "But thou art wrong, because I at each moment did recognize thee."
"No you didn't." Meliadol insisted, pulling away his arm, "You weren't using skills at all. You underestimated me."
"Nay, the purpose twas for thee to feeleth the soul of thy weapon. And thee has't, because now thee holdeth onto it without realizing it, like a parteth of thyself!"
It took a moment for Meliadol to process Grimsaw's speech but when he did the two of them slowly looked down at his right hand…
The falcata was still firmly in his grip, and the blacksmith's words rang true. Meliadol had completely forgotten its existence, so natural of a feeling it was for it to be there.
If Heoh's daggers were empowering, making one feel invincible, than this weapon was like waves lapping on a secluded beach, comforting and familiar. Meliadol had desired the invigorating feeling of those twin daggers, but as he stared at this weapon forged specifically for him, he felt his heart begin to thaw. There was an elegance in this form, and it just felt right.
He now saw Grimsaw's actions in a new light, realizing how much of a fool he had been. This had never been about the duel. "Th're is beauty in purpose." The blacksmith said understandingly, as if he knew the thoughts running through Meliadol's head, "Thee must be pressed to discover thine truth. To see thine handicraft in action. Tis wast the aim of the duel."
Meliadol nodded blankly. But a part of what the blacksmith said still didn't match his actions. "If this was what you were trying to do, then why did you beat my ass at the end there?"
The big man actually blushed, looking away for a moment, "A bright candle can motivateth one to burneth 'longside it."
Once he realized what the blacksmith said, Meliadol couldn't help but to feel proud. Perhaps one day, when everything was even, the two could match weapons again. Win or lose, Meliadol could truthfully admit that he had fun and would look forward to it.
He flipped the falcata in hand before sheathing it in the horizontal back sheath that appeared near his waist.
"Thank you, Grimsaw." he said honestly.
"Twas mine pleasure, Mel."
"Bast explained to me a little bit about legacy gear, and I've done some of my own research, but is there anything you need from me? I know it can be upgraded further."
Grimsaw's armor and weapon disappeared, replaced now with the familiar tunic and apron of his craft. The massive blacksmith started walking back to the shop and Meliadol hurried up to keep pace with him.
"Aye, ev'ry ten levels from leveleth twenty thine legacy can be upgrad'd. Bringeth it to me with mat'rials to giveth thy effect yond desire."
Meliadol nodded. He had started reading up on the DFS in concerns to upgrading Legacy items, and every resource he checked had painted it as interesting, yet extremely complicated. One could use almost anything as material in upgrading, including items specially labeled as
The combinations were almost limitless, with new ones being discovered all the time. It was also why blacksmiths like Grimsaw were so widely sought out, because they most likely knew a few secrets or preexisting combinations. Naturally such knowledge was tightly kept by almost everyone involved.
Not for the first time, Meliadol felt grateful to have met Bast.
A thought struck him and he opened up his menus and scrolled down before finding what he wanted. "Hey, Grimsaw?" The blacksmith paused at the door, looking back at Meliadol with a questioning eyebrow, "Can you explain what I should do with this? I just remembered I had it and forgot to ask anyone about it."
In his hand Meliadol held a pulsing red gem, the Heartstone of Aremais. It was still warm, as if he had carried part of the desert with him. And even in the muted glow of the training room, the edges managed to absorb the light around it, shining brightly.
What he wasn't prepared for was the extreme way Grimsaw reacted.
Faster than Meliadol thought possible, the bulky blacksmith closed the distance and had his own hands around Meliadol's, pulling them closer as he inspected the gem intently "How didst thee receiveth this?" he finally asked, staring at Meliadol with large eyes full of wonder.
"Bast gave it to me a bit ago for helping steal a zone boss." Meliadol explained, a little stunned at the big man's reaction. It was like a child that had just seen the worlds biggest candy bar.
"I see." Grimsaw muttered, half to himself, "I hadst heard some rum'rs 'round the main hubs and from walk-in custom'rs, but figur'd t wast just Bast stirring up troubleth as usual."
"It was all over the forums." Meliadol explained what had happened to Grimsaw, and the blacksmith listened with surprising attentiveness, stopping him only occasionally for clarification.
"Yond's quite the way to h'rald a returneth. Typical Bast." Grimsaw said when Meliadol finished his story, "Doth thee realizeth what thee did get here?" Again that manic expression flashed across the blacksmith's face, and the hunger in those eyes scared Meliadol. He was beginning to realize how big of a deal this was to Grimsaw.
"Well, I was hoping you'd tell me…" Meliadol pulled the gem, and his hands, out of Grimsaw's grasp.
It was like trying to get your dog to let go of a toy.
"I guesseth I can pray pardon to thee in simple terms" Grimsaw suddenly straightened and coughed into his hand, as if he realized what a spectacle he was making, "Thee can upgradeth thy legacy every ten levels, leading to five upgrades total at which time thee reacheth leveleth sixty." Grimsaw began, "but beyond, thee can upgradeth three more times. The first five art relatively easy. Farm dungeons and thee'll receiveth it eventually. But the lasteth three, known as Overgrades, art what drives a large portion of the endeth game in Nev'rgarden. Overgrades giveth thee the largest amount of customization over thy legacy."
Meliadol looked down at the gem in his hand. It seemed to shine brighter at the blacksmith's words, as if it was basking in it's own self-importance, "I'm guessing I need this for the Overgrade thingy?"
Grimsaw nodded, "Aye, tis arguably the rarest ingredient in the processeth. Th're's thirty-one diff'rent gems, only did they drop by zone and end-of-raid final bosses, each giving thee a unique twist to thy legacy, depending on other ingredients. Th're also beest two special gems giveth to thy top mast'r of each arena bracket at endeth of season." This time Grimsaw paused, as if making sure Meliadol was paying attention, "Thing is, the gems aren't a hundr'd p'rcent dropeth. Clos'r to 'round twenty. Anon, n'rmally this isn't too big of an issue. Raid dungeons did reset ev'ry week. Those gems aren't too lacking for people to eventually receiveth. Just cleareth ev'ry week and thee'll receiveth one."
The blacksmith let the statement hang, prompting Meliadol to put the pieces together. A few long moments passed, but the Thief just wasn't connecting the information. "Okay, and…?" he prompted, still not getting what Grimsaw was hinting at.
"The respawn tim'r for zone bosses art about a month, and even at when those bosses doth spawn, unlike raid dungeons which art instanced and th'ref'r did separate from int'rf'rence, thee still has't to fight oth'r playeth'rs for the right to even killeth it. Pray not mention even attempting to fight a zone boss requires connections to a maj'r PvE guild, for they doth monopolize it."
"…Oh…" The pieces were beginning to fall into place.
"'In all mine own timeth playing this game, I've w'rk'd on less than a dozen zone boss gems. And I've nev'r w'rk'd on this particular one. Th're's people who has't played since beta that has't nev'r even seen a zone boss kill."
Meliadol stared at the gem in his hand, and it seemed to pull far away as the insinuations swam around his head. It was like waking up from a dream, that moment you open your eyes and the fog clears and your thoughts sharpen.
He wasn't even level fifteen, and he had done and accomplished things old school players hadn't even seen, all because of the people he had met. It was sobering to realize how easily things could have went the other way. How fortunate for him. But could he claim any of the accomplishments as his own?
He didn't deserve such a piece of loot. His role hadn't been big enough to justify it, he felt. One of the others, maybe Darlia or Bast himself, could have used it and should have taken it. Perhaps he should give it back?
"Why would Bast give me this then…" Meliadol muttered to Grimsaw, rolling the gem around his hand, watching the interplay of light and shadows reflected off its many facets, "…especially when others were more deserving?"
Grimsaw laid a heavy hand on Meliadol's shoulders, "Meliadol," he said, tone serious, "You do everyone a disservice if you deny the gift Bast gave you."
Meliadol stared back, mouth open, the shock of hearing the roleplayer completely break character rendering him speechless. Just the realization was enough to lend weight to the blacksmith's words. It was like the anger of a gentle man, he couldn't look away.
"What he gave you," Grimsaw continued, voice low, "Was a gift of trust. He believed that you were someone worth investing in, and if there is one thing I can say about
But do not insult that precious bond by saying you are not worthy. Instead, if you truly believe this, then take that which is given to you and become someone deserving. Show these people that their trust in Bast was not misplaced."
Meliadol continued to stare at the gem, and he felt the corners of his eyes moisten. You could cry in this game? The absurdity of it also made him smile. What a sight he must be, he thought, desperately blinking away tears, sniffing, while choking back a laugh.
This was so damn embarrassing. It was just a game!
And yet…
"…Thanks."
"It is not a problem."
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