War of Emperium

Reunion

Everybody in Alberta knew the crest of Altair Thorne. It was a golden crown of thorns, engraved at every weapon the Blacksmith forged and suspended into every Oridecon and Enchanted Stone hed produced.

Acquiring a weapon or stone with the "Thorne", as the people called it, was considered a great honor. A dagger forged by Altair costs about 700,000 zeny, and that was just the lowest possible price. The perfect spears, maces, swords and axes he wrought could have prices as high as 50 billion zeny.

The term Thornecraft was known all around Midgard. Only high-level and exceedingly rich Knights, Wizards, Hunters, Priests and Assassins could acquire Thornecraft weapons. Meanwhile it was deepest craving for many to acquire even a knife with the coveted mark. Thornecrafted weapons were indestructible. Altair also Hiltbinded everything, so the loss of a weapon after a PVP match was prevented.  

No doubt fake weapons abound, but even Novices knew how to identify a genuine Thornecraft weapon. How? You held up the weapon to the sun, and when the Thorne was hit with the suns rays it would display the breathtaking colors of the rainbow. It was something that even the craftiest imitator could not do.

When Firnheild separated ways a few months ago for a break Altair went home to Alberta, where he was greeted by the Merchant Guild with a spectacular homecoming festival. After some endless chat, Altair boarded himself up in his home, known to many as The Forge.

It had been two months, but Altair was still locked up in his house. Worried patrons often dropped by his doorstep, knocking and calling to no avail. The great Blacksmith could only be spotted at night, buying some food from a store beside his house.

"His eyes are very deep!" said the Merchant whenever people asked her how Altair was.

"I told him, you should get some sunshine, but he would shake his head and get his food and lock himself up again. I wonder what hes doing in there."

Rumors spread. Some said Altair was dead. Others spread news that he was planning to commit suicide. But the most popular rumor of all was that he was forging the most powerful weapon in all Midgard. This rumor spread like wildfire, reaching even the mysterious hills of Geffen.

Still Altair would not come out. Nothing would make him emerge, even Cassius, the Count of Alberta. Signs that the Blacksmith was still alive could be seen. Thick black smoke never stopped seeping from his chimney. Sometimes the people would hear loud explosions from the house. These things confirmed the third rumor: Altair was forging something never seen before

Altair removed his protective goggles and cast it carelessly away. Sweat slicked his body but he did not care. His round violet eyes were staring hard into the furnace, where fire blazed. He bit his lower lip impatiently. He reached for a thick cloth and wrapped it around his hand. He reached into the furnace and pulled out a sword, glowing white.

He placed the sword on the anvil and grabbed hold of his hammer. He raised it high above his head and brought it down. The clanging of metals ensued in the house. A drop of sweat fell from the bridge of his nose and onto the white-hot metal, where it sizzled and evaporated in a flash.

He then threw his hammer away with a loud thud. He reached for an Oridecon and embedded it into the blade. He hit it all over again before throwing it into a tub filled with icy-cold water. The water frothed and bubbled, steam gushing in thick clouds of white.

Altair dropped into a sitting position on the floor.

"It's nearly done." He mumbled.

"One last Stone and Oridecon and it'll be ready to twang."

He stood up as he wiped away his sweat. He walked toward a nearby table and drunk from a cup there. He was just about to go to the kitchen when a knock sounded on his locked door.

"Not another bugger now, is it?" Altair frowned.

"Might as well see who it is"

He walked toward the door and opened it. "Yes, what is it!!!"

Altair stared dumbly at the empty street facing him. He blinked his eyes and poked his head out of the door, looking left and right. But nobody was there.

"Umm" said Altair.  "I wonder who could that be?"

He turned around and was just about to shut the door when something the size of a small boulder whammed into him, catapulting him into the house with the force of a gunshot and making him knock into a solid anvil with a sick crunch.

"Brother!"

A petite girl with layered blonde hair was sitting on Altairs chest. Her baby blue eyes sparkled innocently, and on her face was a smile wider than a Yoyos banana. She had the uniform of Novices from the Midgard Academy. Altair, realizing who it was, gaped his jaws, his eyes widening.

"I missed you!" Lilian said excitedly.

"Arent you even going to welcome me?"

"L-Lilian?" said Altair, hardly daring to believe it. 

"Yes, it's me!" said Lilian, nodding.

Altair reached up and hugged his sister, snuggling her close to him.

"Oh Lilian, it has been so long! How on earth did you find out where I am? I missed you, beloved little one! Oh god, my sister is now a young woman!"

"I only needed common sense to find you!" Lilian replied as she hugged Altair.

"You're the best Blacksmith in Alberta, in Rune-Midgard itself! When I was still in Midgard Academy I dreamt nothing but to see you again, I missed you terribly"

Altair sat up.  "What is it? Has that damned beast done something to you?"

Lilian wiped her eyes.  "A lot of things happened since you left home. Our stepfather was hurting mom so much. He made me work to earn him some zeny for his drink. One day mom couldn't bear it anymore and had me smuggled to Midgard Academy. She said that when I finished there, I should go find you. You can take care of me, she said."

Altair cursed under his breath.  "Is mom still alive?"

"She died two years ago." Lilian answered softly.

The Blacksmith felt his heart melt. His mother died and he didn't even know it.

"Dont worry, though." Lilian smiled.  "I know she's happy wherever she is, because she knows Im with you."

A smile flitted on Altairs lips. He stood up and helped Lilian do the same.

"Come." He said.  "You must be tired from such a long journey from Prontera. I'll whip up a feast for you."

Lilians pretty face brightened up as she pranced with her brother to the kitchen.

"It's beautiful, brother!" Lilian breathed as she held Heavens Blade high.  "Look at it! I've never seen anything as pretty as this! How did you make the blade look like glass? And come to think of it, its transparent! And the hilt is very well made"

Altair snorted on his porridge. "You're overreacting, Lilian. It's just a sword."

Lilian turned to her brother, frowning.

"Just a sword? A masterpiece like this is just a sword? Are you crazy? How much do you plan to sell this?"

Altair stopped halfway of his fifth spoonful.  "I don't plan to sell that, Lilian."

"Why?" Lilian inquired as she brandished the sword like a Knight.

"Because," Altair hesitated. He cast a nervous glance at his sister. It wasn't because he didn't trust her, but Lilians tongue was very slippery. Should he tell her?

"Come on, tell my why you won't sell it." Lilian persisted.

Altair chose his words carefully.  "It's dangerous. It can do great things, that sword. I don't plan to sell that because if it falls in the wrong hands, a catastrophe will occur."

Lilian did not understand what her brother meant, but somebody else did. Somebody who had been eavesdropping just now