Irwin's Journey - The Cardsmith

Bronwyn woke as he always did, with a clear mind and an instant grasp of what was happening around him. It was a thing he'd learned long ago when he'd first joined the Rangers. Sleep light, wake fast, and ready. Carla's body was pressed against his, her breathing slow and steady, showing she still slept. Celeste's breathing, much fainter, came from the crib at the back of their room.

It took him a moment to find what had woke him, and when he did his lips curled in a grin. Drum was sneaking through the hallways, heading to Irwin's room his shuffling motions only audible to him because of his enhanced hearing.

He will leave again today, he thought, thinking about Irwin and feeling his smile slip.

He felt conflicted, as he had for weeks- months if he was true to himself. It was obvious to him that Irwin wanted to head out again, and he wouldn't stop him, but he just didn't understand why. He knew the official reason that he had to find out who was actually after them- even agreed with Daubutim, Bron, and the others that it was likely it had something to do with those smiths' abductions, but…

But they could send someone else! Why is Irwin insistent on it being him?

He went over everything that had happened in the months after Irwin returned and couldn't come up with a reason.

"Are you worrying again?" a soft voice whispered in his ear.

Bronwyn turned his eyes to stare into Carla's. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her waking.

"Why does he have to leave?" he whispered back. He was glad he was able to keep the hurt he felt from his voice, but the sympathy in Carla's eyes and the tightening of her arms told him she had picked up on it anyway.

"Scintilla and their children," she said with a faint, sad smile.

Bronwyn wanted to shake his head but held back. He'd thought about that, but with all that Irwin had told them about it and the things he'd managed to get from Greldo…

"Why would he want to?" he asked. "He hasn't seen her in years, and the last time he did, she tricked him and sent him off with a letter after getting what she wanted!"

This time, he knew he wasn't able to keep a tiny bit of anger out of his voice, but he didn't care. His mother, for some reason that escaped him, seemed to be fine with it. She had told Irwin again and again to bring them here if he could. The children he could imagine, though he wondered how much of Irwin was in them… They were supposedly completely Ignitzian, the race of fiery women he knew about only from the things he'd been told.

"Don't overthink it," Carla whispered, leaning forward and kissing his cheek just above his beard. "He will be fine, as he has been each time he set out. Look at how strong he's become."

Bronwyn nodded as he listened to Irwin's deep voice and Drum's happy laughter. A moment later, the sound of Irwin's guitar came from the kitchen, followed by his son's high-pitched singing voice.

"He will be ready for his first cards soon," Carla said. "Have you decided which of those Irwin gifted us should be the first one?"

Bronwyn knew she was trying to take his mind off things to distract him, and he gave her a quick kiss.

"I think we should give him the pure body improvement one. With that-"

Bronwyn's worries slowly faded into the background as they discussed their son's future.

--

Irwin stood before the house, Greldo a few steps away as he looked at his family. His mother's jaw was tight, and he knew she was struggling to keep from crying. Long ago, he'd thought she was angry when she looked like that, but as he grew older, he'd learned the truth.

"You better return fast," she said.

Irwin just smiled, knowing she knew how unlikely that was. He'd explained to her that he might be gone for a long time this time. Ten years wouldn't be a stretch, depending on how things went in Dimarintsia. At least he didn't have to worry about her dying of old age anymore, he thought as he looked deep into her silvery eyes. She looked younger than she had ten years ago and would be able to live for at least another hundred years without worry.

"I'll be fine," he said, giving her a reassuring smile before turning to Bronwyn, who was holding a quiet Drum.

His brother looked as he always did, strong and sure of himself with a twinkling in his silver eyes. Still, there was a slight tightness around his eyes.

"You take care of them, alright? And remember what we discussed!'

Bronwyn snorted. "You just get back here safely, and I'll make sure there's a nice home waiting for you nearby!" he said, taking a step forward and holding out his hand.

Irwin grabbed it, and he held it for a moment before releasing and stepping back.

"Greldo, you take care of him, alright?" Irwin's mother said. "And make sure you take care of yourself to!"

Greldo stepped forward, putting a hand on Irwin's shoulder. "I'll be sure to stop him from doing anything too stupid!" he said.

Irwin smiled as everyone noticed Drum's tearful eyes.

"Make sure to become big and strong," he said. "I'll be on the lookout for another guitar, and if I find one, I'll bring it!"

Drum nodded, then put his arms around his father's neck and buried his head in his beard, crying softly.

Irwin exchanged a final round of goodbyes with his family. Then the world turned dark as Greldo teleported them away. They landed in the room with the exit portal. None of the rangers present looked even slightly surprised to see them as they went about their practice.

Irwin took a deep breath before focusing on the portal.

"Alright, let's go and find a path through that storm," he said, only to feel Greldo's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. He looked up to see his friend look at him calmly.

"They will be fine. You did all you could, and with Trimdir, Esther, and the others, they will have enough good cards. The Shadowwalkers Guild will find more portals while we are gone!"

"I know," Irwin said, but somehow, he still felt a bit better as he walked to the portal. "Now, let's go and see if the others are ready!"

A boring trip through the exit corridor and a short walk across the harbor later, they walked onto the deck of The Concerto. Zender was busily moving around the sails, his long silver arms whipping about as he cleaned the tiny bits of dust and debris from the sails. Earila stood at the helm, fiddling with the runes in the center, while Hind and Dhalia stood at the prow, talking softly. Nim'ron was nestled in the front spot, his face smooth and lipless, showing he was still resting. There was no sign of Boohm, and Irwin glanced at Greldo.

"Hear him below deck, moving in the kitchen," he whispered.

Irwin nodded as he pulled the gangplank in and walked to the deck.

"So, is everyone ready? Because after we leave, we won't be back here for a while!"

His voice caused all those on deck to turn and look at him, and he noticed a slightly nervous expression on Earila's face.

"The sail's ready, captain!" Zender shouted excitedly.

"Shield ready to be powered up," Nim'ron rumbled.

"The food storages are fully stocked," Boohm's voice reverberated from below deck.

Dahlia and Hind nodded while Greldo and Zender headed to the ropes that attached them to the dock.

Irwin walked towards Earila. She'd grown a few inches since he'd seen her two days ago, all due to the stabilizing of her soulscape. She was nervously stroking one of her Faerit, looking up at him. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yes…!" she said before glancing at the harbor and the storm. "Do you think Mom will return while we are gone?"

Irwin felt his stomach tighten as he thought about Rindiri. When they had split up, he had expected her to return here on her own, but that was before the Chaos Storm began ripping apart the Portal Galleries' weaker side branches.

"I don't know. But if she does, she will be safe. Otherwise, we will keep an eye out and ask around. I'm sure we should be able to find news about The Sonata and a group of Yuurindi," he said, trying to sound as sure of himself as he could.

In reality, he worried about Rindiri.

"Would you rather stay here and wait for her?" he asked again, as he had a week ago.

"No!" Earila said, shaking her head hurriedly. "Mo- Rindiri told me to take over for her and be your navigator! I can't disappoint her!"

Irwin nodded, watching her for a few more moments. It was hard to believe she was an adult in the eyes of her own species, as she looked like a twelve-year-old.

"Alright, then get us out of the harbor and toward the pass," he said.

Earila seemed almost relieved, and he wondered if she'd thought he'd tell her to remain behind. Now, her hands flew across the runes, and The Concerto began pulling away from the dock.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Irwin hesitated for a moment before moving to the center of the deck.

"Let's get the ambient soulforce up a bit in advance," he said to Ambraz.

"More reforging? Always," Ambraz said with a laugh.

Irwin worked slowly, sometimes taking a look at the massive trees and the harbor they held, fading in the distance. The storm light compared to beyond the barrier made it harder to see great distances, and it didn't take long before they moved into the mountains.

I wonder when I'll be back next time, he thought, turning his full focus on the card and pondering if he should go to Ruby rank or further.

"Say, Ambraz, how far do you think I am from doing a diamond on my own?" he asked as he struck the still yellow-bordered card.

"What? Hungry to become one of the diamond-ranked smiths?" Ambraz said. "Kid, if you try it with a fire or metal typed card, I'd say you have a five to ten percent chance."

Irwin almost fumbled the next strike, and he had to quietly focus to fix the imbalance his strike caused. When the card was back on track, its resonance flowing well, he thought about what Ambraz had said.

"Only that low, huh," he said.

"Low? Kid, to become a diamond-rank smith, you just need to reforge a single diamond-rank card to above eighty percent. There are smiths who only manage that a few times in their lives and are still revered in their worlds. Having a five to ten percent success rate means you would probably be able to succeed more times in a year than they would in their entire life."

Irwin continued reforging the card, somewhat surprised by that.

Ambraz seemed to pick up on it as the Ganvil laughed softly. "Look at what you are doing now. You are reforging a card from topaz to emerald with barely any attention. Yes, it's a metal card, which makes it easier, but even then, you are doing something that only a small percentage of the smiths on the Langost branch can do. Did you even notice how you cleared the smudges to open up the card's full potential?"

Irwin looked at the card as he struck the final blow, faintly recalling he had done that. He barely paid attention to the initial minutiae of those things anymore. Keeping the resonance perfect took far more effort, and even that was something he could do more often than not.

"Am'braz is right," a light voice said.

Irwin looked up to see Dahlia look at him. Juul'rish sat on her shoulder, almost glowering at him with only her mouth.

"You are among the top young smiths of this part, probably on par with the best that the main Smiths Guilds on Dimarintsia and Suiderfuix have to offer. There's a chance the larger branches of the Smiths guild that are beyond Dimarintsia would offer you the chance to work for them. That only happens to about a hundred smiths every ten years- usually those that perform well during the main card-smithing championships."

I remember those, Irwin thought as he recalled the things Ambraz and Crithann had told him about that. He wondered if there would be one when they arrived on Suiderfuix. Then he realized that even if there was one, he couldn't join it as it would out him as a smith, and the Smiths Guild would attempt to move him to a safe location.

With a passing glance at the now emerald card and taking note of the long curved blade that gleamed dangerously, he put the card in his pocket. The ambient soulforce was slightly higher than it had been, but he could just increase it before they went into the storm in a few hours.

"So I would be able to get a diamond-rank plate if I managed to create one by myself?" he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. If he'd still been part of Tensor's smithy, he would have had to put it in his beard. That, or back in his hair, which was now far too short for that.

Neither of those things are happening, he decided.

Should he even get one? It would only be useful after the abductions of smiths were solved so he could get access to rare cards and metals. But even then, did he really need that?

A thought for later, he decided.

Looking up, he found that Dahlia was examining him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Captain, you seem very calm about the fact that you could become a tier-one diamond-ranked cardsmith if you just tried reforging for a few weeks to months," she said quietly. "Most smiths see it as their final goal after a lifetime of practice. You are what… roughly thirty years old now, and you have already reached that."

Irwin ignored the compliment, instead focusing on something else she said. "Tier-one?"

Dahlia nodded. "It's not common knowledge due to how few diamond-rank smiths there are in these parts, but grandfather told me about it. He is a tier-three diamond-rank smith. Tier one means you are capable of reforging at least one card to diamond rank at eighty percent without external help. It can be of any type, though in most cases, it's something that matches the smith's soulcards. There are smiths that only specialize in one type of card to make it even easier. Tier two requires you to be able to reforge up to diamond with a semblance of surety. To prove it, you go to one of the main charters of the Smith's Guild in front of a group of other diamond smiths. You get ten cards and need to succeed on at least two."

Irwin's eyebrows shot up. "Two above eighty percent?"

"Yes. Also, you can only attempt it once per ten years. Besides actually reaching diamond-rank, it's the biggest choke point, and only one in every ten smiths that reach diamond-rank passes it. Those that don't usually end up being the heads of smaller academies or of Smith's Guild Charters on rank three and four worlds."

"Did you know all this?" Irwin asked, looking at Ambraz.

"Of course I do," Ambraz chortled. "And before you ask- I didn't tell you 'cause there's barely any use to it so far. Unless you can reach tier four, the advantages aren't big enough-"

"Not big enough?" Dahlia exclaimed, her eyes wide. "With each rank higher, you get access to more materials, and from rank three, you are allowed to put up requests for specific cards, which the guild will set aside for you! That means cards from all over the Langost branch!"

"Only one card per year, and you have no guarantee that you get it," Ambraz said dismissively. "No, the real value is from tier four and beyond because you can join both the yearly smaller auctions and the larger one that is held every ten years," Ambraz said. "Also, you get to request the smaller charters to search actively for a card per year, which increases the chances of just 'setting it aside for you' a lot."

Dahlia shook her head in disbelief, but Juul'rish let out an annoyed sigh.

"I'd heard that the Progeny were entitled and arrogant, and it seems that was right. You make it sound like reaching anything but tier four is a waste of time!" the silvery Ganvil snapped.

Irwin was surprised at how Juul'rish acted toward Ambraz and saw a confused-looking Dhalia gaze at Juul'rish, who flitted from her shoulder. Ambraz just laughed loudly.

"For most smiths, it would be a worthwhile thing, but are you forgetting that we want as few people to know we are smiths as possible? Especially high enough rank to be on the diamond tier," Ambraz said. "If everything was normal, it'd be interesting, but right now, it's not worth it."

Juul'rish was quiet for a bit, then sniffed. "Yes. I guess that is true. Still, you could be a bit nicer about it."

Irwin saw Ambraz's lips purse, and he turned away. Dahlia followed him, casting a few glances back at the two Ganvils, who were now arguing.

"I am very sorry about this, Captain," she said, looking up at Irwin. "If I'd known…"

"Don't worry," Irwin said. "Just let them talk it out. I don't think Ambraz minds much, and Nim'ron seems to be enjoying himself."

Dahlia followed his gaze to where the larger Ganvil had seemingly woken up, his lips curved in a wide grin.

"I- I think you shouldn't dismiss the advantage of being an acknowledged tier two diamond-rank smith," she said. "Grandfather said it was one of the best things that happened to him, and it's how he got my first card."

Irwin nodded, knowing he'd be talking with Ambraz about it later.

About an hour later, the argument had long since stopped, and Irwin had reforged more cards to increase the ambient soulforce. Dahlia was reforging to keep the ambient soulforce up at that level, and he stood at the helm. Earila was with her brother, staring at the stormy, narrow corridor they would be going through.

Greldo stood next to him, back from his quick scouting of the corridor.

"I really hope the storm has left the main branches by now," Greldo muttered. "It's going to be annoying if we have to keep hopping from section to section."

"Nothing we can do about it," Irwin said, glancing behind him at the open room with the map that should hopefully guide them to Igniz. Making sure he had the first part memorized, he focused on the storm.

"Ready?" he shouted.

A chorus of voices shouted back, and feeling a slight excitement, Irwin increased their speed, straight forward and into the storm.

--

"We will kill you for this…"

Doomblade snorted as he jammed his massive sword into the jabbering demon's gut. He grunted as the hot, purple blood splattered across his chest. With a flick of the wrist, he cleaned his massive sword, glaring at the long, white-haired humanoid with dead eyes. They were still moving, and he watched in distaste as the wounds began closing, the pale, purple-tinged flesh knitting together.

"Decapitate it and bind the parts away from each other until they are drained of soulforce," he shouted, glaring at the wounded two and three-horns that surrounded him.

Hundreds of bodies littered the makeshift harbor, leading to their world's exit portal, most one-horned Galubs and more of the white-haired humanoids. Grunts, all of them, luckily lacking the insane regeneration their leaders did.

"How many ships can we salvage?" he asked, staring at the three-horn to his side. He knew he had a name, but the three-horn had only been promoted to his position the day before when his predecessor fell in battle.

"Two of theirs," the Galub said, looking anxious from the attention.

"Finally!" Doomblade shouted, putting his sword on his shoulder as he watched the pale ships hover nearby. There were seven, but most of them were already descending to the ground, having been tampered with by those demon bastards.

Hah, me calling another species demons, he thought, his hand tightening around his sword handle. How things had changed.

"Find out how they are able to move through the storm and salvage as much from their other ships as you can. Then send one of our own out to warn us when more arrive!"

"Boss, do you think more will come?" one of the three-horns whispered.

"Yes, and stop acting all scared!" Doomblade roared. "We've been killing them for months now. We will be fine!"

The Galubs around him shared worried looks, but none dared argue with him, which he'd not believed they would.

"I'll be going back to the Bladeworld," Doomblade snapped, feeling a slight joy at the name he'd given the arid, barren world that could only just sustain life. "Get everything sorted, and then get back to training. I'll send the next batch of two-horns if they are ready to replenish our ranks!"

Not bothering to look at the reactions, he turned and stalked across the rickety wooden floor toward the exit portal. The walls of the building it was supposed to be hidden behind were partially destroyed, and he sniffed.

"And get started on the repairs!" he roared.

Before he entered the wooden building, he looked past it at the mountain range that blocked the entire section of the branch they were on. Permanent snow covered the gleaming white peaks with the enormous storm that raged above the barrier, sometimes causing flashes.

"Bloody smith," he muttered. "Drop us in the middle of an ice area on some backend, dead world."

It had taken him months to get one of his one-horned minions with a movement skill to three so he could search for the end of the horrid ice region. Then it had taken another half a year to scout it and find a better world than the rank one piece of shit he'd been dumped on.

Glancing at the portal, he smiled. A rank three world, all for himself. It was swampy and humid but a hundred times more stable than tier one. On it, he would be able to continue growing his new empire.

If those white-haired, purple-blooded demons let me be!

He felt like he'd been put with his back against a wall… if he didn't know better, he'd have thought Irwin put them there on purpose to stop the demons.

He glared for a while, feeling his annoyance at Irwin grow for a bit before slowly abating. He wasn't stupid and understood the worth of what he'd gained. If he'd remained where he was, he'd have had to deal with the emperor, a fight he'd have lost. No, as much as he'd like to strangle the copper-colored rustbucket, he did owe him.

Now, if only those demons would stop coming out of the storm! They were a pain to deal with, and their numbers were increasing constantly. Luckily, it was not as fast as his army was growing.

And as soon as Scryble's offspring mature to adulthood, we can increase our breeding tenfold, he thought as he headed into the building.

Ahead of him hovered the entrance portal, another thing that had cost thousands of attempts and multiple specifically bred Galubs to find and open. Such a headache.

At least he'd have some time for himself now, he thought with a grin. If things continued as they had, he would have a few weeks of rest to create more rank zeros!