The Hatchling

Craftmanship

"I thought you said you were going to lift weights?" Beck chimed as I returned to his room.

I shrugged, trying to hide my excitement. The bliss swelling inside me was almost uncontrollable. "I decided I'd go see if I was getting any stronger instead. I'd have to go through the field to get there anyways, and my wounds are still hurting."

A half lie would do for now.

He bobbed his head with understanding. "So how was that? Any improvement? You haven't had much training so far."

"My bite force is a little stronger, as is my squeeze and ram, so a little bit of training has gotten me that far."

Beck's entire face lit up. "Really? That's great!" He set down his glass and flicked on the lights to his whole room, a rare occasion.

The massive den illuminated and I saw the rest of his domain. Most of it was empty, but tucked away in the very back corner, there was a door.

"Follow me," he instructed, taking great strides towards the new entry with apparent eagerness.

I had to hurry to keep up. "What's that go to?" I asked, struggling to match his pace.

"It opens to the hall that will take us to the armory."

"Armory? Like weapons?" My skin tingled with excitement at the thought.

"It's where we keep all our armor for when we go out on missions. You get two sets. Your standard battle armor, and then a set that will coincide with whatever you end up doing. I'm a special forces night flyer in their infantry division, so mine is different from someone who's doing day time recon."

Beck opened the door and the hall was entirely slate grey with white tile floors. There was only one other door, and it was at the other end. At the door's edge, black soot clouded the pristine white floor. When he opened it, hot air rushed out and made the hair on my body stand on end.

It smelt of fire, metal, and grease. There was an seemingly endless array of armor sets carefully hung on the walls, each with a tag signifying who it belonged to. At the end of a giant coal burning furnace was an extremely plump man who was wearing a dirty leather apron and grease covered gloves. He looked up from his work, a set of chain mail, and smiled, widening his strawberry blonde handle bar mustache which was the only thing of hair on his entire head. His eyebrows seemed to be permanently burnt off.

Boy were eyes blue though. It was as if jewels were sitting in the sockets instead. The man grinned from ear to ear as he looked at Beck, and he slid off his gloves.

"My boy!" He hooted with delight. "What brings you here? You know I can't give you your armor while you're on suspension."

Beck raised his hands in surrender, laughing softly at the man's fatherly chiding. "I know I know!"

The man set his cobalt eyes on me and smiled. "What's your name lassy?"

"Emira."

The man grabbed his stomach and laughed. "Oh I heard about you! The other black scale! You're just here to make my work difficult."

Beck put his hand on my shoulder and gestured to the blacksmith. "This is Ulric. He's the head blacksmith for the whole facility. He'll be making your armor for you when you graduate."

Ulric turned back to the metal he was working on and began linking pieces of metal together again. "You black scales are hard to make for."

I looked to Beck for an explanation.

He pointed to a plastic bin filled with fragments of a glittering black stone. "He has to use those to make the metal black. If you go into any night missions or covert special forces team, your armor has to match your scales."

Ulric finished the link he was working on and wiped sweat beading on his forehead. "It's hard to make black armor because those little crystals are the only things that can fully dye diamond dusted carbon steel, but they're quite finicky and, if heated too hot, they'll turn silver."

All that for black steel.

Ulric untied his apron revealing a swollen, round belly underneath a grease stained tank that looked a size too small. The bottom of his stark white stomach peeked out from its bottom. "So what brings you down here?" He asked Beck.

Beck pointed back at me with his thumb. "This one needs some practice armor of you have any ready yet. I know it's a little early to be asking, but I want her to get a head start on being familiar with its weight."

Ulric extended a deep frown that even moved his mustache. "Boy, you're really testing my resourcefulness."

"You don't have one for a female yet?"

"You do realize what size she is, right? She's larger than almost any other female I'm making for. And that's including practice armor, so don't even ask about that."

"You don't have any male armor that would do for her for just right now?"

Ulric rubbed the top of his smooth head and let out a long groan. "Male armor is much more masculine looking, you see?"

He pointed to the set of armor he was working on, and I saw the head piece mounted up on the dummy. The intricate hand made piece of metal linked and welded together with craftsmanship I had never seen before. Small marks from the strike of a hammer, and a shine from being buffed by hand. I was truly enamored by it.

"I see," I breathed, my voice caught by the beauty of the work.

"And you don't mind?"

"Not at all."