Chapter 56: "On my honor as an artisan of the deep,"
Bramm met the mason’s gaze, the initial suspicion in his deep blue eyes turning into a proud, unyielding warmth. He stood tall, a fierce protector of every soul inside the palisade, but his sharp mind was already evaluating the future.
"My people are the blood of this valley, Master Kael-Voss, and I build to keep them safe," Bramm rumbled, his voice rich and commanding as he pointed a massive, thick finger toward the southern clearing.
"If you want to help me do that, then let’s talk about your art. You smelled something valuable on the wind before you even crossed my threshold. Tell me—what exactly is sleeping under our dirt?"
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Valerius’s eyes lit up with a feverish, professional intensity. Without another word, he strode past Bramm and Keren, his thick, heavy-soled boots crunching purposefully against the grassy earth. He stopped right at the edge of the southern clearing, where the jagged, gray-veined rock face sat exposed like a raw wound in the dirt.
That Lithari fell to his knees, his massive, four-fingered hands sweeping away a stubborn layer of dirt and pine needles. He didn’t use a tool, instead he tapped his iron-dense, bone-white nails directly against the dark stone.
A sharp, surprisingly clear, metallicpingresonated through the entire courtyard, vibrating right up through the soles of Bramm’s boots.
"Oh, look at the grain of it!" Valerius whispered, his voice dropping into a reverent, conspiratorial lilt as he traced a thick finger along a faint, shimmering silver fracture line in the rock.
He looked up, his pitch-black, pupilless eyes dancing with genuine excitement under his heavy hood.
"This is Vaelstone," Valerius declared, slapping his palm against the bedrock. "A localized geological masterpiece. Right now, it’s raw, dormant, and compressed under thousands of years of mountain pressure. But its properties? Beautifully dual-natured."
He stood up in one fluid motion, brushing the dirt from his oil-slicked duster, his obsidian grin stretching wide.
"If we quarry the core of the vein," Valerius explained, gesturing with grand, sweeping hands, "we get the high-density ash-gray blocks. They absorb kinetic impact like a sponge. I can cut and interlock those blocks so perfectly that your wooden palisade will become a memory. Within weeks, you’ll have stone walls that can take a direct hit from a battering ram or a Orange-tier beast charge without throwing a single splinter."
He leaned slightly over, his voice sinking to a low, eager murmur. "But the real beauty?" The outer crust of the vein is extremely rich in dense mineral iron-clay. When we clear the rock, we can grind the residue into a fine, bonding mortar. It seals air tight, resists frost heave and keeps the fierce highland wind from ever screeching through your halls. You are not just sitting on a foundation. You are on a self-sustaining quarry."
Bramm walked over, standing beside the Lithari. He looked down at the dark, silver-veined rock face, a profound sense of pride and fierce determination swelling in his chest.
He had been worrying about extra income, and although not precisely what he wanted, he could sell these stones and minerals to the cities for extra coin. He would also be able to once more expand the area, rebuild a few things that needed it, and it would soon look like a true keep.
"You’re sure about this, Master Kael-Voss?" Bramm asked, his deep voice bearing the heavy, protective weight of a lord securing the future of his people. "You can turn this raw dirt into walls that keep my people safe?"
"On my honor as an artisan of the deep," Valerius smiled, placing a calloused hand over his chest. "Give me the manpower, and I will carve you a fortress."
Bramm turned his head back toward the gatehouse, his dark grey beard catching the pale alpine light as a thoroughly satisfied smile finally broke across his face.
"Keren!" Bramm commanded his sound a rich grumble that easily cleared the courtyard. "Get the iron levers and quarry baskets out of storage." I’m assigning a dozen of our warriors to Master Kael-Voss at daybreak. We’re going to dig up this wealth ourselves and we’re going to build a home that no one can tear down."
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The screaming of the mountain wind had died down to a rhythmic hum, leaving the high reach drowned in a crisp, alpine silence. Above, the night sky was an absolute ceiling of cold obsidian, shattered by a brilliant, cascading field of stars that threw a silver frost over the timber of the palisades.
Down in the courtyard, several large campfires cracked fiercely, their orange tongues throwing long, fluttering shadows against the dark surface of the cabins. The remaining summoned warriors sat in loose circles, the quiet hum of their conversations mixing with the sharp pop of burning pine wood.
They had stood guard for hours, and it was only a few minutes back when they retreated into the area and sat near the cabins. Resting but still able to fulfill their task. Except for a few unlucky ones who found themselves stationed on the watchtowers for the night.
The peaceful atmosphere, however, was only a surface layer. Near the western edge of the camp, the air around the two seclusion cabins had grown unnervingly thick.
Suddenly, the ambient light of the stars seemed to warp. A massive, silent surge of Vitre tore down from the surrounding ridges, visible as thick, ribboning currents of raw energy. A violent vortex, howling in a frequency only the soul could hear as it funneled directly toward the two small structures.
The loose dirt in the area began to lift, swirling in miniature cyclones, and the campfire flames bowed flat against the logs, instantly turning a strange, incandescent shade of amber. The sheer density of the pressure forced every warrior in the camp to freeze, their breath catching in their throats as the cabins greedily drank the mountain’s raw power.
Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the vortex snapped shut. The air thinned, the wind dropped, and the heavy, volatile friction completely vanished, leaving behind an almost holy stillness.
End of Chapter
