"Welcome to Brisk's Smithy," the little girl chirped, "We hope you're enjoying the festival. What can we do for you tonight?"
Emory greeted her, "I must be quite lucky to run into you again since you helped me so much yesterday." She stopped casting her mask, so the girl could see her face, causing the child to squeal in excitement.
"Daddy! Come here!" the girl screamed, "It's the angel from yesterday! My daddy didn't believe me yesterday when I told him about you." From behind the back curtain, a seven-foot tall, incredibly toned man stepped out and scowled at the little girl.
"Fay, what are you talking about?" the man groaned in a deep voice, "I told you angels weren't real. These are just normal people." Suddenly, a glow sprouted from Emory's back and formed into outstretched angelic wings that touched opposite walls of the store with their tips. The man froze in shock and awe as Emory winked at the little girl before the wings flapped a couple times and folded back into her back. He just stood there staring with his mouth ajar while his daughter beamed with vindication. "I'm so sorry for my rudeness. Fay here said she saw an angel yesterday, but I didn't believe her. Welcome to my humble armory; my name is Bartre. How can I help you two this evening?" he finally recomposed himself.
"Bartre Brisk? You're a master forger for the Empire, aren't you?" Soren raised an eyebrow as he too removed his mask, "I didn't know you had your own shop as well. Your signature was hanging in front, so I assumed you were affiliated or an advisor of some sort."
Bartre bowed, "Lord Soren. It's an honor to have you in my shop milord. I prefer to make the Empire's equipment with my own tools. It also lets me see and take care of my daughter this way. What can I get for you two this evening? It must be important for two powerful people such as yourselves to come in."
"Could you finish the incantation on these two please?" Emory asked as she pulled out the chainmail armor pieces, "I'd like to also put in an order for six similar sets." Bartre's eyes nearly popped out of his head when Emory presented the request to him.
"These are beautiful pieces and finishing the work should be quick; however, the six similar sets will take a few days. Is there anything you can tell me about the battle practices of the people these will be going to? It's so I can make them more suited to their intended purpose," Bartre stuttered.
"Three of them are front-line unarmed combatants, though two of the three have smaller bodies," Emory carefully explained, "Two are middle-line fighters that use a polearm and sword respectively, and the last one is a ranged attacker. Thank you for your help, Sir Bartre."
Bartre laughed, "Sir? No, no, I'm not a sir. You're very welcome, milady. Let me get working on these right away. Fay, be nice to these honored guests." He swung the curtain out of the way as he headed back to backroom.
"What's your name, Miss Angel?" Fay squeaked, "And where are you from? I've never seen anyone with pretty, red hair like yours."
"My name is Emory, and I am from a place far away called Mars; thank you for the compliment," Emory leaned over to be closer to Fay, "I think your hair is pretty too. Do you help your dad run the store?"
Fay nodded, "I take care of the whole front myself when I'm not at school. But sometimes it gets boring being here in the city all the time. If you came from far away, I'll bet you've seen all sorts of places."
"This makes the seventh planet I've been to so far," Emory smiled as she held up seven fingers, "But it comes with a price. You never get to settle down."
"Maybe someday, Daddy and I will go visit another planet. He says it's very dangerous out there though," Fay sulked.
"Is your dad busy all the time with work?" Soren asked, "I can't imagine running the Empire's business out of a smaller shop."
Fay pursed her lips, "Sometimes. Daddy only works on the best equipment, so most of the time, he just does repairs on special items. He usually only makes a handful of sets every week."
"Are you going to grow big and strong to make equipment like your dad when you grow up?" Emory wondered aloud, "You know, I have a friend who's a girl who is a forger as well. She's also big and strong like your dad."
"I want to grow big and strong like Daddy, but I don't want to take over for him until I've seen the stars. Exploring is the life for me," Fay wrinkled her nose at the question.
"If you want to be an explorer, you need to train your sphere more," Bartre scolded as he returned with the gear and a glowing smile, "The wider world is a dangerous place. Look at these two. The only reason they've made back in one piece is their strength. Here you go, miss; this is some of my best work. May I ask you a couple questions about the gear that I had while I was working on it?"
Emory gazed at the armor which now had a green sparkle and responded, "I'll tell you what I know, though I'm not a forger myself and I only received these as gifts."
"What material is it made from? I noticed its similarity to Adamantine but also its differences," Bartre started, "Who thought to enchant it with the Nature sphere instead of Arcane like usual? I admire the creative choice, and it made for better skills in the end." Emory glanced at Soren to see how much she should reveal to this person, but he just shrugged and nodded at the idea.
"The material on my planet is called Orichalcum. Most of our gear is made from it, at least the best gear is. As for the sphere question, the truth is almost no one knows the Arcane sphere where I'm from. My clan and I are the only ones," Emory admitted honestly, causing Bartre's eyes to swell up as he understood she wasn't an Elandrian.
"Well, please let the crafter know this is excellent work," Bartre gasped, "Go ahead and let me know what you think." Emory set the chainmail shirt and leggings on the counter before waving her hand over the top of them.
"Level five protection enchantment: Nature. Active Skill: Thorns. Passive Skill: Infinite."
"Level five protection enchantment: Nature. Active Skill: Land Stride. Passive Skill: Infinite."
"As you can see, they share the same passive skill. It's a common one but still an A-ranked skill. The active skills, though, are the best we could have hoped for," Bartre gleefully beamed, "Thorns means anyone who attacks you within ten feet will take a percentage of the damage as reciprocal damage. About a quarter of the strength. I've only seen this skill on a few items before and not with the Infinite combination. Land Stride will allow you to move rapidly through ground or foliage, so as long as you're not fighting on a ship, you can move through those without any resistance."
Emory paused for a moment before she finally said slowly, "These are perfect. Thank you very much, sir." She bowed, causing Bartre to become quite flustered.
"It was my honor, really," Bartre blushed and waved his hands back and forth, "I enjoyed being able to finish a fine forger's work. Come by on the fourth night of the festival for these other sets. Would you like plate or chain?"
Emory answered, "Chain, please. Thanks again, Mister Brisk. I'll see you soon." He bowed to them both before they turned away and headed back onto the street.
"Well, you got everything you were looking for in a single night. Are you sure you don't have the Luck sphere?" Soren joked with Emory, "We made good time as well. If we head to the arena, we should be able to get to our seats before the rodeo starts."
"Perfect! Let's go right away!" Emory exclaimed. After locking elbows and putting back on their masks once again, the pair set off down the streets towards the arena. They quickly passed all the shops and stands they went through to get the armor section in the first place. But once they reached the walkway surrounding the arena, they had to slow down. People were packed into the open area like sardines despite no walls on three sides to contain them. Without the buildings of downtown to cover it up, Emory could see the gigantic stadium in all its glory. It looked elliptical or rather rectangular with the corners rounded out and stretched a mile and a half wide on its shorter side. The outer walls extended hundreds of feet into the sky and were made of the same light stone much of the city was constructed from. While all the people were filing behind one of the many ticket booths, Soren led Emory around the side to an unassuming door with two guards.
"This is a restricted entrance," one of the guards called as the pair approached, "Please return to the main entrance."
Soren pulled up his sleeve to show a magik marking on his wrist of a handshake, "I think I'm at the right place."
"Apologies, Lord Soren," the guards bowed, "It's difficult to tell who is under the masks. Please walk this way." Soren led Emory through the opened door and up a flight of stairs. When they arrived at the top, the hallway before them was dark compared to the blinding light coming from the exit. As they stepped into the light and looked at the arena before them, Emory was speechless. Stands rose along the sides almost all the way to the top, and most of them were already filled.
"Welcome to the Arlanthian Colosseum. Over a million people can sit and watch with additional screenings projected in the commons area and outside the gate. They just finished this a few years ago. What do you think?" Soren stated proudly.