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What Wael Sees

Summary:

A collection of drabbles and short pieces I write from the prompts I get. Feel free to send me some either here or on my Tumblr. :)
The topics and characters won't be consistent, and I have no idea what will actually end up here. It's a secret.

Chapter 1: Tiger Lily (Favaen)

Chapter Text

The first time Favaen had heard of the Knights of the Crucible she’d been excited. Through all the horror she’d found in this land, an order of knights dedicated to Abydon had been a welcome reprieve. At actually meeting them she’d been… disappointed. They were good people, that she was sure of, but the dozens weren’t entirely wrong in their judgement, no matter how bigoted they were.

Now, standing at the forge with the forge master Dunstan looking over her shoulder, as she was sweating through her thin undershirt, all thoughts of excitement and disappointment were gone. What was left was only concentration. Nothing else was important in that moment, only what she’d come for. Occasionally Dunstan handed her an instrument or materials, never interfering with her work, only judging quietly.

The heat was meditative in its extreme, pushing her endurance to the limit as she worked on her piece. Sweat was pearling down her skin, her hair stuck to her head and her muscles were starting to burn. Since coming to the Dyrwood she’d never been more content than in this moment. Lost in her work and consumed by the satisfaction of a craft well practised, she could forget her pain and longing and exhaustion.

She was by no means a master blacksmith but giving this job to someone else hadn’t been an option. She wanted to do this herself, just like she’d done most of the work on Caed Nua’s chapel herself. For everything she didn’t know how to do, she had consulted with the experts she’d hired for the rest of the keep, acquiring quite a set of a new skills on the way, but the actual work she’d done herself. Now that the small building was essentially finished, there was only one more thing to do, aside from officially dedicating it. The statue inside was repaired and bestowed with the proper likeness, but it was still missing its silver crown. A crown that Favaen was currently putting her heart into making.

Due to the lack of a forge in Caed Nua, it was a keep after all and not a production site, she’d come here, using the reputation she’d earned for herself to get her access to the forge. Dunstan had been hesitant at first to let her close to his priced working place, but after some negotiating and assurances that she knew what she was doing, he let her do her work, under the condition that he would supervise. Favaen had no issue letting him, he was far more experienced than her after all, and she could hardly deny the master knowledge of what was done with his forge.

In what felt both like an eternity and no time at all the crown was finished and the metal cool enough for the finishing touch, the inscription. With steady hands Favaen carved in the words, script clean and clear, free from any adornment that would inhibit its readability.

And the sun shall break through the darkness, the new dawn arriving with the rebirth of the day.

Carefully she cleaned off the flakes and polished the silver one last time. Holding it against the light, seeing it reflecting off the metal so beautifully and hearing Dunstan’s gruff hum of approval, she couldn’t help the pride swelling in her chest. Even through all the hardships she’d found in the last months, she’d stayed true to her path, had taken the darkness of the night encroaching around her, and had filled it with the light of stars.

Mearwald’s death had been a tragedy, but one she hadn’t been able to avoid. She hadn’t known him for very long, but from what the steward had told her, she was sure he would be proud of what she’d made of his legacy. Caed Nua was rapidly growing, the keep all but restored and drawing people from all over the Dyrwood, but especially from around Gilded Vale, for obvious reasons.

Aloth had been an invaluable help in learning how to manage her new territory, and with his help she managed to both keep the people happy and the coffers filled with the coin she needed to pay the guards and for the upkeep of the land, with a little bit left for her own expenses.

It was an adventure she’d never expected but was infinitely grateful for. The night she’d found herself in might be long, but the stars where there to guide everyone who knew how to read them, and there were few things Favaen knew as well as this. Reading the stars and making her own path to dawn, no matter how often she stumbled.

This crown in her hand was proof of that. It and she were the product of many different paths, and though she’d certainly like some better than others, all of them had taught her valuable lessons, and she’d learnt them well. Perhaps it was arrogant of her to think so, but if that arrogance made it possible for her to be the lantern her god and her people needed her to be, then she would pride herself on that as much any other of her skills.

And this crown, made by her hands in Abydon’s spirit and forge for Eothas, would be the marker of her reign, the symbol for all she longed to stand for.

She couldn’t wait to place it on Eothas’ brow.