Nexen and I are in front of a smithy. I grip the metal knocker and rap it twice, opening the door right after, not waiting for a response. A cloud of heat washes over us both as we enter the dim space, illuminated by a flickering light.

  Khirfin looks away from a lit forge and regards me. “Shortsword and leather.” Then she turns to Nexen. “Plated mail. Who outgrew what?”

  “Got my sword eaten by a Disruptor Slime. Nexen’s here to watch the process if that’s okay,” I reply.

  “Nasty bugger, that ‘un. Aye, ya can watch all ya want.” A flick of her wrist shuts off the forge, leaving a half-finished blade inside. “Let me see the damage, sonny.”

  I pull out the two remaining pieces of my sword and present them. “Can you use it?”

  Khirfin takes them and answers simply, “Aye.” The handle is already disassembled by her deft hands.

  Before she can go over to her racks of metal stock to pick out the perfect one, I get her attention. “Would it be okay if I supplied one of the metals?”

  “Hah? Got enough of ma own.”

  Nexen throws me a glance that probably means ‘she definitely has no idea who you are’.

  I snap my fingers, warping in bars of various superalloys on an empty workbench. “Check out what I have first?”

  Khirfin makes a soft hum and approaches the bench. Placing my broken weapon down, she picks up a bar and gives it a squeeze. No effect. She gives it a harder squeeze. It shatters in her grasp. A fragment is sniffed and then promptly thrown behind her back with disinterest. Another bar is sheared in two like modeling clay. A third bar is bitten through and chewed for a while. Mercifully, she doesn’t swallow the piece. Quite toxic if ingested in even minimal quantities. After going through most of the alloys, one bar catches her interest—a reddish and dull surface, ideal for high-temperature applications.

  “This ‘un.”

  A spec sheet— Spec cube? Roughly two thousand double-sided pages containing the properties of the material drop on top of the work bench, dangerously shaking the quite sturdy metal construction. Khirfin checks the table of contents, flips the cube to a dozen locations, skimming each one for a few minutes, and then stows it away, being deliberately gentle with the paper.

  A snap of my fingers removes the remains of the other alloys and brings in a fresh batch of her selection. It also deposits a small pile of round, faceted mana crystals. “You can keep whatever’s left.”

  Khirfin lets out an impressed whistle. “I see ya’ve been busy, sonny.” She then points to a corner. “Stay over there and try not ta get singed.”

  I warp in two chairs and we sit down.

  The dwarf grabs one of the bars and smashes a less impressive mana crystal into it, giving the metal a luster that quickly shimmers away. She goes to the forge and pulls out her work-in-progress, depositing the new one. With a ‘fwoosh’, the forge lights up again, raising the temperature of the space instantly.

  Khirfin pushes more and more magic into the fire inside, until finally, the metal changes color, starting to glow a brighter red. A pair of tongs grab the stock and pulls it out, placing it on a black anvil that is not so mysterious anymore. The smith lifts her hammer and brings it down. A sharp clink fails to deform the material. Khirfin stretches her neck from side to side and lifts the hammer up again. A deafening clang shakes the building and dislodges dust from the ceiling. The metal deforms.

  While she is playing around with the practice bar, getting used to the novel material, Nexen creates a privacy barrier. “So we don’t distract her,” he whispers excitedly. “This is awesome. Thanks for bringing me along. Watching my armor being made was one thing, but a weaponsmith in their element is something else.”

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  “Mine’s going to be better.”

  Nexen snickers. “Don’t be jealous. I know you worked really hard on it, so I’ll wear it at least once. Even if it sucks.”

  A make a fake grumble.

  Silence falls around us once more as we watch Khirfin forge a rough sword. It eventually takes shape. She quenches the blade in a thin oil and admires the hardened metal as it smokes in the dim light. Next, she walks over to her storage room and comes back with another sword, clamping it in a vice edge up. The still smoking blade is brought down on the completed weapon. A cut piece of the superalloy clatters to the ground. Khirfin distractedly throws the piece that remained in her hand and takes a close look at the clamped sword. There’s a small nick in the edge. Her lips curl up in a dangerous smile.

  She starts forging another blade.

  As we are watching intently, Nexen says, keeping his eyes on the delighted dwarf, “It’s all my fault.” I don’t answer, letting him continue after a time. “If I had just told Elisa about you going in that A, none of this would have... You could have died. All because of me.”

  “Not many people can stop me once I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Yes, and I am one of them.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I don’t regret what happened. Not one bit.”

  Nexen sighs softly. “I knew you would say that...”

  “It’s the truth. I don’t blame you. Not one bit.”

  His gaze leaves Khirfin and settles on me. “Would you ever?”

  A small smile tugs at my lips. “Nope.”

  “You are a better man than me, Lucius.”

  “Only one of us hasn’t made those we love cry. And it’s not me.”

  “Can’t you just let me feel bad?” he asks with a smile finally breaking through.

  “Nope.” I chuckle and point at the second completed blade.

  Nexen’s eyes linger on me for a moment, but he soon looks at the dwarf.

  Khirfin brings the newly-forged creation down on the clamped sword. A piece of metal clatters to the floor. A melodic laugh rings inside the smithy. With frantic energy, she flings the still smoking, and still whole, blade away. A new bar is picked up, together with a round mana crystal.

  With the bar enchanted, she brings it over to what appears to be a magical bandsaw and cuts it into different shapes.

  The two pieces of my destroyed shortsword are torn into smaller chunks and chucked in a crucible, which in turn is chucked inside the forge to melt its contents. When the steel liquefies, Khirfin pulls the crucible out with her bare hands and pours the contents inside a bar mold. When the steel bar cools down, she enchants it and cuts it up too.

  An intricate puzzle of metal pieces is polished and assembled inside a thin steel box. Once done, Khirfin places a lid and uses her finger to ‘weld’ it closed with arcing electricity, including a handle for tongs. The box is placed in the forge and heated to a white hot. After a short sequence of titanic hammer blows, the box is placed back inside, repeating the action again and again.

  Around half an hour later, Khirfin does not put the box back in, letting it briefly cool down. The still red cuboid is ground until the steel jacket is removed. The smith places the contents inside the forge again and hammers on it until the bar is elongated sufficiently. Then she clamps it in a vice and twists the metal.

  More hammering and shaping makes the twisted bar start resembling a blade. Grounding and polishing starts revealing the pattern. A dunk in acid from a particularly deadly monster reveals it fully. Another dunk in some black sludge adds a striking contrast. The sword is reassembled, enchanted again, and honed to perfection. As the final step, Khirfin slides it across her palm, the blade greedily drinking in her seeping blood. The process is even more fascinating with working mana senses—the capstone of the enchantment.

  A sheath is quickly crafted as more of an afterthought, though this one is quite sturdier than the last.

  I approach the equally exhilarated and equally sweaty blacksmith. She presents the completed shortsword, black streaks running through deep crimson, spiraling and jagged, like dark lightning traveling across a bloody sky.

  “Give it a swing,” Khirfin urges.

  I take the blade and draw an arc through the air. A shiver runs through my body. Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.

  With the sword safely sheathed, I say, “Always a pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Better show me that armor when it’s done, or I’m takin’ it back, sonny.”

  I answer with a smile, “Yes, ma’am.”

  ***

  I am aboard the third moon, using the planet as a nice backdrop. Project Party Dress is nearly complete, leaving only one final item. Elisa’s.

  An armor—really more of a full-body suit—appears before me, including all the internal components. A deep breath in brings me back. A slow breath out brings me to the conclusion. I remember the pain, and the warmth. The love I always feel.

  Before I know it, the suit is assembled, waiting for the final bit of light. A perfect sphere appears in my grasp, glowing like a miniature sun. I crush the crystal, transferring the glow to my hand. The hand is placed on the armor, one single thought in my mind—protect her.

  Alert. Connection to— The connection reestablishes as quickly as it was lost.

  Without any input, my creation moves its visage to look into my eyes. It drops down to one knee, head now looking up. Intent slams into my mind. ‘Always’.