CLAP CLAP CLAP
Amelia was clapping slowly, her eyes fixed on the bracer and not on me.
“Impressive! My congratulations. What was your name again?”
“A thousand pardons, I don’t think I introduced myself. My name is Zero.”
“Zero?” She tilted her head. “A name that doesn’t suit that talent at all. I imagine it’s an alias.”
“It is, miss.”
I had expected her to notice. People at that level notice almost everything.
“And why did you choose that one?”
“It’s symbolic. Zero is the beginning and the end of everything. I see this life as a new beginning and a final end. Hence, Zero.”
It came out smooth, pretty, without a stumble. Then again, I’d had time to rehearse. It was the explanation I had come up with at the guild, after my hand had already written the name on its own.
Amelia narrowed her eyes for an instant. I don’t know if it was because of the sentence or the name. Then her face went back to normal, and I was left not knowing.
“Would you mind telling me how you learned to forge? From the way you speak and carry yourself, I imagine you’re a newcomer. I doubt the forging of your world is anything like that of Erebus.”
Think fast.
“The basics have some similarity to the old forging back there. The rest is instinct. I’d say I taught myself.”
“Taught yourself? In so little time?”
“Let’s say I learn fast.”
Ymir’s Basic Forging Guide, consumed at the bottom of a tower, didn’t come into the conversation. Neither did the twenty years I didn’t remember.
“Interesting.” She clapped her hands together once. “Right! I’ve decided. I’m going to make you my disciple.”
“Miss?!” Kapriel nearly fell off his chair.
“What?” she shot back, curt. “Is there a problem?”
“Nothing, nothing. No problem at all.”
“Perfect. The boy is a rare talent. Who, in their right mind, makes a Rare item on the first attempt, and at an admission exam on top of that? I didn’t. And you certainly didn’t.”
Kapriel fell silent. She had the position, the status and the skill to say that, and on top of it she was right.
I, on the other hand, had been caught flat-footed. In no scenario I had put together on the way there did an intermediate blacksmith pick me as an apprentice. It was supposed to be an admission test. I came for a stamp and left adopted.
“Forgive me, Miss Amelia, but…”
“What? Some problem with my decision?”
I looked at Kapriel for help. He shrugged, in a gesture that clearly said: I already took a punch today, newcomer, now it’s your turn.
“No need to be afraid.” Amelia had seen the look. “I don’t bite. You can say whatever comes to mind.”
I picked each word before letting it out.
“I think there’s been a mistake. I don’t intend to dedicate myself to the forge. For me, it’s a pastime. I doubt you’d want a disciple who won’t dedicate himself body and soul.”
“A pastime? With that talent?” Her voice didn’t rise. It got lower, which was worse. “If I didn’t trust my judgment so much, I’d say you were mocking me.”
“I’m not. I can assure you.”
My hand went looking for my pocket, where there was nothing to hold on to.
“I know, dear. You wouldn’t dare.”
Her voice was soft, with steel underneath.
An intermediate blacksmith could make Epic+ equipment with her eyes closed. For me, the bracer had only been easy because it was Ymir’s own creation, and the manual was his too: the technique was the same from beginning to end, a paved road. She didn’t need a road.
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That was the least of the problems. The biggest was that Amelia was tier 3. Any tier 3, of any class, could turn a tier 1 like me into dust as easily as sweeping the house. The king forbade killing inside the city, of course. But for someone of her position and strength, the prohibition was more of a polite suggestion.
Amelia uncrossed her legs and gave her verdict.
“Very well. If that’s how it is, I accept.”
“Sorry?”
“What?”
Kapriel and I spoke at the same time.
“I said I accept. I know I won’t convince you to put the forge first. But as your master, I can guarantee this talent won’t go to waste. What do you say?”
It was a decorative question. We both knew it.
“I’d be a fool to refuse an offer like that.”
“Keep the fancy words to yourself. I don’t want to hear them.” She raised a finger. “Here’s how it’ll be: one lesson and one assignment a week. If you don’t complete the assignment, you’ll explain to me why. If you miss a lesson, you’ll explain to me why. I don’t tolerate excuses, so have a good reason.”
“Naturally.”
“I’m not finished.” Second finger. “If you miss more than two lessons in a row, there’s a punishment. So you’d better be dead, or close to it. I won’t accept you wasting my time.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Master. From now on, you call me Master.”
“Yes, Master.”
On Earth, my most demanding boss was a twelve-year-old client who paid with his mom’s prepaid card. A promotion.
“Good. See you in a week.” She stood up.
“Master, how do I get in touch? And where will the lessons be?”
She thought for a moment, put her hand in her pocket and took out a round object, the size of a large coin, with a blue stone in the center.
“Here. You can keep this one.”
“This is…”
“A transmitter. I’ll call you myself on the day. The place, I’ll tell you then.”
“Are you sure you can give me something so valuable?”
“Oh. So you know what a transmitter is worth. Not bad for a newcomer.”
I did. Every tier 3 had one. But not even the heir of a great faction necessarily had one, because people like that always went around surrounded by higher-tier bodyguards and didn’t need to call anyone from afar.
“Don’t worry. It may be worth something to you. To me, it’s nothing.”
Nothing. I kept looking at her. I had no memory at all of an Amelia. No line in the index, no flash, no warm feeling in my hand. Either she had never crossed my path the other time, or she had crossed it in a way the book thought better not to tell.
Who are you?
“Anyway. You may go.”
“Huh? And the admission test?”
“What do you mean? You passed. You’re an intermediate apprentice blacksmith now.”
“Intermediate?!” Kapriel and I, in chorus again. We were becoming a duo.
“Why are you surprised too?” Amelia turned to him. “The promotion test requires a basic blacksmith and an intermediate one present. Isn’t that exactly what we have here?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts. You also think he has the qualifications, don’t you?”
Kapriel looked at the bracer, then at me, and nodded. He didn’t argue anymore.
“Then it’s settled.” Kapriel turned to me and, this time, his voice came out without scorn. “Congratulations on the promotion.”
[Congratulations! You have been admitted to the Blacksmiths’ Association]
[Congratulations! You are the first newcomer to be admitted to the Blacksmiths’ Association]
[Reward: Silver Materials Chest]
[Congratulations! You have been promoted to intermediate apprentice blacksmith]
[Congratulations! You are the first newcomer to reach the position of intermediate apprentice blacksmith]
[Reward: Gold Materials Chest]
The notifications all fell at once.
“You must have gotten some rewards from the system, right?” Amelia asked.
“Ah. I did.” It came out more cautiously than I wanted.
“What’s that face? Of course I know how the Erebus system helps newcomers. After so many terraformings, that’s no secret to anyone.”
“I figured.”
“So your fear is that I’ll take the rewards? Maybe I will.” She gave a short laugh. “But what you get for becoming an intermediate apprentice is nothing. That said, if you have anything of value, bring it to me at the next lesson. Maybe I’ll forge a present for my first apprentice.”
A piece forged by an intermediate blacksmith, for a tier 1 newcomer, was worth more than everything I had on me.
“Yes, Master!”
I didn’t realize how excited I had sounded until I saw the corner of her mouth go up.
“I like that better. It makes you look more handsome.”
I was left without a reaction for a second. Seated, I hadn’t noticed it as much. Standing, up close, Amelia was the kind of beauty that makes a grown man forget his own name. I had just forgotten mine, which wasn’t even mine.
She was already at the door when she turned around.
“Oh, just one more thing. Don’t depend too much on the system. In fact, the less you depend on it, the better.”
She left before I could answer.
I stared at the closed door. The less you depend on it, the better. It was a strange thing to say to a newcomer. It was the kind of thing I myself, if I had an apprentice, might say. I stored it with the others.
“Don’t let her face fool you, newcomer,” Kapriel said, still rubbing his stomach. “It may not look like it, but that woman is past forty.”
“I’ll remember that.”
He had no way of knowing, but adding the twenty years the index said I had lived in Erebus, I was almost the same age as her. Except I didn’t remember any of them. It was like having a fat bank account at a bank that wouldn’t let you withdraw.
I said goodbye to Kapriel and went to an inn nearby. I had chests to open, and I was as curious as a child on Christmas Eve.
After that day, it was nice to feel a curiosity so simple. The gold chest took care of ending it