Tunde made his way down the building alone, deciding to meet with the Forgesmith by himself—well, with Zhu bounding down beside him, seemingly absorbed in the sights and sounds. Tunde had swaddled the Ethralite in layers of robes to obscure his features a bit. He imagined it might be quite jarring for others to see a walking, talking insect, especially one that was close to reaching the stage where he could take on a human form.

  The growth of the Ethralite into a divine beast, as the sage had once referred to Zhu, was something Tunde looked forward to. Zhu could already piece together speech fluently, though Tunde found it curious that the Ethralite usually preferred silence, as if he chose to observe instead.

  The entrance to the city was manned by cultivators of the Ashen Flame Sect—fellow lords who bowed in respect at his presence, no doubt familiar with him. Tunde simply bowed back and made his way through the trading districts, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, which had gone from half-demolished to completely rebuilt within just a few days.

  A few voices called out greetings, and Tunde waved hesitantly, realizing he didn’t recognize them. A few children approached, offering tightly wrapped parcels—some warm and sweet-smelling, clearly edibles, while others were solid and mysterious, leaving Tunde to wonder what exactly was inside.

  As he wound his way across the city, he briefly considered notifying the sect leader’s daughter but quickly dismissed it, the thought leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He was sure it had been her who attacked him in their abode—her Ethra affinity had been unmistakable. What he wanted to know was why.

  Soon enough, Tunde arrived at the smithing district, with Zhu munching on something he had bought for him. “Hot,” the Ethralite commented, expressing his discomfort at the heat emanating from the district. Tunde nodded in agreement, heading toward the largest of the buildings, where he was sure the Forgesmith would be.

  The doors were guarded by adepts who peered at him curiously before their eyes widened, bowing hastily and opening the doors. A blast of hot air hit his face as Tunde stepped inside, greeted by the fierce, burning glow of grey flames. Forgehands hammered away at metals, shaping them into weapons, and Tunde noticed the metals themselves seemed to glow with a strange light. Intrigued, he opened his Ethra sight.

  “Fascinating,” he muttered, observing the ethereal metal that absorbed the surrounding ash and flame Ethra. Tunde traced the source of this bountiful Ethra to a large grey crystal that hung above the room, pulsing with raw energy.

  Now, Tunde understood why the city was called Ashhaven—the sect had monopolized the cultivation of nearly every citizen, guiding them toward the path of ash and fire. While tailored to their individual needs, it all came down to the same essence: ash and fire ruled these mountains.

  “The forging of ash and fire into metal,” a thick, heavy voice said behind him. Tunde turned, Zhu still at his side, to see a squat man with soot-darkened skin, a charred beard, dark grey eyes, and muscles that spoke of countless hours—if not years—hammering away at the forge.

  “The Forgesmith, I presume?” Tunde said, bowing at the waist.

  “Bah, it is wrong for you to bow to one such as me,” the Forgesmith replied dismissively. “You did me a great favor, young one, and I called you here to repay it.”

  “A favor?” Tunde asked curiously.

  The Forgesmith nodded, clapping his hands together as a young boy hurried out from a corner, eyes alight with eagerness, stopping beside him. Significantly taller than the Forgesmith, the boy bowed to Tunde.

  “This humble one greets the lord!” he said clearly, his voice soft. Tunde nodded at the boy, recognizing that he was an adept. The Forgesmith himself was a powerful Highlord, and Tunde, still unsure of the purpose of his visit, waited to hear what he had to say.

  “You saved my grandchild’s life during the attack; words cannot express what you have done for me,” the Forgesmith began. The young boy stared at the ground as the Forgesmith continued, “He is all I have left, my only family, the one who will carry on our business.”

  “Please, honorable Highlord, it was nothing. I only did what I had to do,” Tunde replied honestly.

  In truth, he hardly remembered the child’s face; the battle had been a blur, and at some point, perhaps he had saved him. The Forgesmith shook his head.

  “Yes, yes, but all the same, I would not let such a debt go unpaid. Tell me, how may I repay you? A weapon, perhaps? Though my grandchild here says he saw a finely forged naginata in your hands,” the smith said.

  “I would not trouble the Highlord over this; surely you must have other pressing matters?” Tunde said, feeling reluctant to ask for anything.

  The smith laughed, drawing the attention of a few workers who quickly resumed their tasks, adding more blades to the pile in the center of the room.

  “It is no trouble at all. But perhaps a weapon for your contracted companion here? Though I must admit, I have never seen a true beast quite like this one,” the smith said.

  Tunde noted with interest that the Forgesmith called Zhu a “true beast” rather than a “divine one.” He wondered if it had to do with Zhu’s bloodline or origins; perhaps Ethralites were different?

  He glanced at Zhu, who raised his head, his luminous green eyes curious. “Perhaps, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, might I have a few minutes of the Highlord’s time? I would like to discuss a few things,” Tunde said.

  “Ah, but of course. This way,” the Highlord said, leading him deeper into the building.

  *****************************************

  The large room belonging to the Forgesmith was filled with rows of weapons, forged undoubtedly by his own hands. From them, Tunde could sense the power of Highlords; their strength and durability were evident at a glance. He sat on the ground, Zhu’s features now fully revealed as he imitated Tunde’s every move, much to Tunde's approval.

  Soon enough, the Forgesmith’s grandchild entered the room, carrying a large gourd likely filled with wine, Zhu’s antennae twitching excitedly as Tunde rolled his eyes. He blamed Ifa; the elder had been the one to introduce alcohol to Zhu, and since then, the Ethralite had developed an odd liking for it, much to Tunde’s disapproval.

  Pouring a large cup for both Tunde and Zhu, the boy retreated, leaving the gourd with his grandfather, who took a swig before sighing.

  “I must confess, you are the first Highlord to treat me with such respect,” Tunde said. Not counting Ifa, Varis had frankly treated him like the stain beneath his boot, which had been intriguing at first.

  The Forgesmith chuckled. “You are at the peak of the Lord Realm. I’d even say that you are holding yourself back from advancing, for one reason or another, am I right?” he asked. Tunde smiled slightly, and the smith nodded knowingly.

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  “That is none of my business, of course, and I wouldn’t want to involve myself in empire matters. So, tell me, what would you like to know?” the smith asked.

  Tunde sat up straight. “What exactly is happening in Ashhaven? And what are those mountain apes?” he asked. The smith took a drink, rubbing his beard thoughtfully as he stared over the tip of the gourd.

  “Ah, the reason you’re here in the first place,” he replied. Tunde nodded.

  “I suppose the sect would inform you eventually. But you must understand, despite how long I have lived in Ashhaven, my knowledge is limited. Only those fully admitted into the ranks truly know the details,” he said.

  Tunde bowed respectfully. “Still, whatever you can tell me would be appreciated,” he replied. The smith nodded.

  “The mountain apes have lived among us for as long as I have existed. Some say they were the true inhabitants of the peaks, and only the catastrophic appearance of a Tier 6 Rift and the arrival of the sect leader drove them deeper into the mountains, far from us,” he began, and Tunde listened intently.

  “The stories say the rift guardian was defeated, laid to waste by the sect leader but bound within the rift to keep it from closing, creating a source of wealth and continuous advancement for those under his banner, and thus forming the sect.”

  The smith took another swig of wine and sighed. “For generations, this arrangement held. The peaks were opened for business, the rift used to mine Ethra crystals, and the sect recruited people from the mountains, drawing those who sought new opportunities and a fresh start.”

  “The sect members kept to their mining, careful not to provoke the mountain apes, sticking to guarded routes. In turn, the apes knew better than to attack Ashhaven itself, knowing the might of the sect was strong enough to withstand any assault.”

  “So, what changed?” Tunde asked softly.

  “The surge,” the smith replied.

  “Ashhaven has seen its fair share of surges—rifts appearing and releasing monsters. The sect kills and harvests them, leaving some for the mountain apes. It was an arrangement, I believe, but they didn’t account for the creatures becoming more sentient,” the smith said.

  Tunde noticed the elder made no mention of the relic that belonged to the Artificers, hidden within the dark forests. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of it? It alarmed him, especially since Nue, the Highlady, had lured them into the forest with knowledge of it.

  “They were true beasts, after all,” Tunde muttered.

  “Yes, and perhaps the sect knew that but failed to act on it. I cannot judge the wisdom of the sect leader,” the smith continued.

  “The surge only made it worse. The apes grew more intelligent but also more feral, breaching rifts on their own and laying waste to them. Rumors spread of a leader among the apes—a Master at the Highlord realm.”

  “We all thought it impossible, perhaps exaggerated, a tactic to keep us alert. That is, until we all felt the tremor of advancement and the raw power of a Master—one who was not the sect leader—descend upon the mountains,” the smith said grimly.

  “From the mountains came hundreds of apes, all at the Lord Realm and above, led by a single Master realm mountain ape. This one spoke, with a voice so powerful that the might of the sect, myself included, had to join the fight.”

  Tunde shook his head, perplexed. “Are you saying one Master and several Highlords couldn’t bring down a single ape?”

  “Yes. No matter how grievously we injured it, the beast kept rising, its injuries healing faster than we could inflict them. Even the sect leader, who drove it farther back into the forest and toward the mountain boundaries,” the smith replied.

  Tunde digested this slowly, understanding dawning on him. The relic—whatever it was—had empowered the ape, making it stronger, more resilient. It was so serious that the Ashen Flame Clan had raised alarms, and Varis had sent them here?

  It seemed ludicrous now. No matter what conspiracies the Imperial Clan suspected Veyra of, the presence of a being of such power in their backyard should have been treated with greater urgency.

  “Now, with the convergence seeping into the mountains, we’re seeing more mountain apes than ever. Our people keep disappearing, no doubt taken as food for the apes, yet the sect insists we remain calm.”

  Tunde noticed the rage hiding behind the elder’s eyes, realizing for the first time why he had been summoned. “Apologies, but you didn’t call me here just to thank me, right?” Tunde asked as the smith snapped his fingers, a ripple of aura spreading around the room.

  “For two generations now, every citizen of Ashhaven has been mandated to follow the path of the Ashen Flame, forcibly altering their affinities at birth,” the smith said, Tunde growing more concerned.

  “How is that possible?” Tunde asked, as the smith produced a crystal from his void ring with a soft pop—a dark grey stone pulsing with raw Ethra of ash and fire.

  “Every household is given one of these at the birth of a child. Ground into a paste, it’s administered at birth. And something else, something we don’t understand, is also done, leaving us subject to the sect’s whims,” the smith added, coughing up blood as Tunde’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “I’ve spoken too much,” the smith whispered with a wince. “All I know is that something has made those apes stronger. Perhaps it’s simply nature, or perhaps it’s something more—I cannot say.”

  “I have caused you harm,” Tunde said, worried.

  “Nonsense! You have brought something to the people of Ashhaven that they haven’t seen in a long while—hope,” the smith replied.

  “Hope? My people and I are but Lords and Highlords. What hope could we possibly have against a Master Realm creature that fought the combined powers of the Ashen Flame Sect to a standstill?” Tunde asked, confused.

  The smith smiled. “No, not that. We know that Ashhaven might well be our graves. But I trust the Imperial Clan would not have sent you here without another plan,” he said.

  “Since the convergence began, Ashhaven has been cut off from the empire, and we’ve been unable to leave. Even the sun rarely casts its rays on us anymore—we’re prisoners in our own home.”

  “And the sect leader knows of this?” Tunde asked, frowning as the smith shrugged.

  “Veyra Talahan created the sect to expand his influence. Some say he uses Ashhaven merely as a means to grow his strength in isolation, going as far as to suggest that he refused to kill the Ape King simply to gain an even stronger foe to face,” he finished.

  Tunde rocked backward; shock written across his face. The situation was worse than he’d ever imagined. The pieces were still hazy, but a nagging thought at the back of his mind hinted that all this was somehow tied to the empire itself. What exactly was the Ashen Flame Sect planning?

  Tunde stood, bowing again. “I have troubled the Highlord too much,” he said, as the smith rose as well.

  “Again, nonsense. Now, let me feel your hands,” he said as Tunde stretched out his hands curiously.

  The smith grasped them, grunting to himself. “Many weapons have graced these hands, yet I sense a fondness for the axe,” he said, Tunde impressed by his perception.

  “It was the first weapon I ever wielded well,” Tunde replied. The smith nodded, then went to the far corner of the room, rapping on the wooden wall until a panel slid open.

  “In my long life, I’ve crafted many weapons, some too precious to give away,” the smith began, tugging out a weapon with a dark metal shaft. Tunde stared at the large war axe with its black, gleaming blade as the smith brought it over.

  “This—well, it has no name yet—was one of the first and finest Highlord weapons I ever forged,” the smith continued. “Unfortunately, the hegemons didn’t see fit to grant us forgesmiths the ability to rune-forge weapons the way those foul arcanists can, but I did my best,” he added with a chuckle.

  “I cannot accept this,” Tunde said softly, eyes wide as he admired the weapon.

  “You must, and you can. It carries the hope of a people in shackles. Do you understand?” the smith said, leaving Tunde momentarily speechless.

  He nodded, gripping the weapon as it felt light in his palm, twirling it as Zhu watched with fascination. “It’s beautiful,” Tunde said, bowing to the elder.

  “No, thank you,” the Highlord replied calmly. Tunde placed the axe into his void ring.

  “And for your true beast here—perhaps I have something,” the smith said, turning back to rummage further into the panel that extended deep within the wall.

  “Please, you’ve given me more than enough,” Tunde protested, but the elder ignored him, humming to himself.

  “Ah, here it is,” he said, drawing out a pair of serrated gauntlets that had Zhu practically buzzing with excitement as he moved closer.

  The smith chuckled. “I believe our little friend here is quite pleased with my offering,” he said.

  The gauntlets were crafted of shimmering metal, interlaced intricately. They were designed for human hands, not for Zhu’s insect-like digits. “Although I suppose he’ll have to wait until he finally takes human form, will he not?” the smith said thoughtfully.

  Tunde nodded, Zhu bowing to the elder, who laughed. “I once had a daughter, you know. Bright-eyed,” the smith said.

  “Your grandchild’s mother?” Tunde asked as the smith shook his head.

  “No, her twin sister,” he replied.

  “What happened to her?” Tunde asked carefully, seeing the smith’s sad smile.

  “The sect took her from me. Now she’s better off dead than what she’s become,” he said, his gaze turning stony as Tunde bowed in silence.

  “You have done my people and me a great favor today, Emissary Tunde,” the Highlord said. “Come what may, we will never forget you,” he finished as Tunde nodded, leaving the room quietly.

  He made his way out of the district and into the grey sunlight of Ashhaven, heading back toward the building, unaware of Rui’s form atop a distant building, watching him.