Beloved Weapon: Part 1 (Legendseekers, MOX-994)

"I am Yang. I have something to tell you that you must know," An enormous vexyn, bound in countless chains, asked Troia. It’s glowing eyes, baleful in their gaze as if burning slowly, did not stop watching her, her Spearbie, and both of Pantalaimon’s Ophistles, Hermes and Mercury. "Please, listen to me..." 

Both Troia and the Vexyn stood in a dark tear in reality, within a pure black dimension of what seemed to be nothingness itself. Through her limited exposure to the greater world as a xynlet, it was something she had only ever heard of as nightmare story- and later on in her adulthood, only to learn. But never before had she imagined that she would ever live to see a xyn with it.

Troia stepped back, pinning her ears to her head and lashing her tail slightly as she listened- Spearbie stood at the ready to brandish itself valiantly, and both of Pantalaimon’s ophistles, though quivering, remained raised on her body to strike if they needed. But Troia shrugged at them silently, and they all stilled. It was prudent not to interrupt now.

The dark figure, ignoring the threatening, “I bear the mark of the Suneater’s Curse. I cannot be exposed to the light of the sun, for you know what will happen then… I have recently escaped from confinement in Lunerestian society, and chained myself in confinement here. I’m painfully aware of what has been happening with our world- thus I have taken it upon myself to be ready to do anything needed to save it, despite what others would want of me, Corruption and all…”

The expression that Yang made was difficult for Troia to read when the dark strands of Yang’s mane covered it’s eyes and lips; it seemed something much like a great sadness that it could not ever fully express with its words.

“I am afraid of what shall happen to Lunerest if that corrupted xyn in the Corrupted Lands has his way. With the power of my Suneater’s Curse, I have the power to do something about it that no other xyn- not even the Queens- can. I can’t stand idly by and watch our world crumble to ashes and dust.” 

Troia saw its lips bare to reveal numerous rows of golden, glittering teeth in whatever light could be seen. By this time it was clear that Yang was not a threat; she twitched her shoulders to indicate to Pantalaimon’s ophistles that they could relax. Hermes and Mercury wound down, slithering to rest on her back again. Spearbie still poised itself, unwavering, to be ready to do anything at Troia’s command; 

Yang continued:  “I wanted a Moonstricken Vexyn named Yin, blessed with the power of Moongaze, to show me what our so I could help. But Yin refused; they thought I would become too much of a danger for the citizens, queens and Lunerest itself to know what I would see with their prophetic visions… I have been unable to find them since. Time is running short; I could no longer look for Yin; thus I escaped from my confinement in a corrupted xyn’s sanctuary during the last Sunrise Festival, to lie in wait for the day of the final battle. None of my captors have thought to look for me here, and even if they had the time and resources to, none would dare to pursue me here at this time. I am aware that they are all hiding in Moonreach, readying themselves before they march out to war…”

Troia listened, tail lashing slightly from side to side as she heard Yang’s words.

“I don’t understand. If you bear the Suneater’s Curse,” asked Troia, “What would you even be able to do with it?”

“You know that all xyns infected with the Suneater’s Curse develop a monstrous and powerful form calable of tearing open dimensional holes,” Yang replied. “Now, I thought to myself… what if I could use this sheer power for the greater good of Lunerest? I know the day of the Sunrise Celebration will occur the very same day that the queen and her army in Moonreach will arrive within the Corrupted Lands to wage their war against villain hiding here, and every xyn they have corrupted to amass an army.”

“In a final moment of despair- when all is lost for the xyns of Lunerest, and nothing more can be lost- I could be unleashed from my confines and let the power of the sun and my curse guide me. Perhaps I could evamporate all of them down to moondust in an instant with my plasma breath… perhaps I could tear a hole into a treacherous dimension, far off into some unknown realm in spacetime, and drag him down together with me, never to be seen again…”

It laughed, bitterly. “You know how it is for survivors of corruption to be outcast and demonized- those with the Suneater’s Curse the most of all. What if I could change that…? I may never have an opportunity like this in my life again. I almost pity that corrupted villain; it would be a mercy for him if someone just like him made the decision to end his life.”

“You’re mad. No xyn is capable of controlling themself in a Suneater form,” Troia retorted- she recalled learning this from a lesson in her younger years. “Why would I - or anyxyn - trust you?”

Yang swung in it’s chains to fixate it’s baleful gaze on her. “It is on you to decide to trust me, now and when I cannot control myself- but I have given you the forbidden knowledge to save all of those that you deeply cherish, to save this beloved world that you hold dear. And you now bear the responsibility of every life lost if you squander this opportunity… Imagine this; what more can you lose by releasing me when you have already lost all that you hold dear?”

Troia could not respond; frozen in place. She pondered over Yang’s words, silently, and said nothing.

“Take all of the time you need to make a decision, before the day of the final battle. To free me, you’ll need an enchanted key… you must take this from me to forge it.”

Yang attempted to bring a shackled arm towards it’s own mouth, and Troia heard it exhale as the sound of it’s golden fangs clamped and tore at something. Something fell to the ground with a metallic “clink”. Despite a seeming absence of a source of nearby light, it glinted sharply; Troia hesitated to step forward.

“Have no fear,” said Yang. “It is a golden scale from my body. Use it as the material to forge an enchanted key that will undo my locks and chains, should the opportunity ever arise... you must seek out the enchanted weaponsmith in Valorise to forge it for you. Limekiln, I believe…?”

Troia did not move, merely staring at the scale. “Even if I did, how will I get to Valorise?” Asked Troia. “I lost a telestone warping here, and I cannot warp there any longer. A pack of corrupted xyns are searching for me. I cannot leave this cavern without being found and slaughtered in the Corrupted Lands.“

Yang chuckled. The sound made Troia’s spine feel cold as it tingled, echoing in the vastness of the pure black world they were in.

“You are most fortunate that I have already torn open numerous dimensional portals here, hidden in remote areas of Lunerest that haven’t been found and repaired yet.” It tilted his head to indicate several distant tears of reality all around it; through each, Troia saw numerous Lunerestian regions.  “I’ve had to tear them open allow some moonlight trickle in to feed me in my confinement… I cover them up when the sun is about to rise, so I do not turn into my Suneater form. But I have been cold and weak since Oborn and Trellisa fell. I miss the light of the sun… starvation makes sustenance all the more tantalizing and absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

“This portal leads to the depths Frosttouched Pines; go from there, and then you must navigate to Valorise on your own.” It swung its body slightly to the right to direct Troia’s attention to a dimensional tear beside them. Bits of snow had drifted in from the outside world, a stark white against the pure black of the dimension that Troia stood in. The ember-hot plasma burns of the dimensional fraying seemed somewhat controlled from the sheer cold of the world that it lead to. 

“Goodbye, Troia. Never tell a living soul about what I have told you; you know where to find me. Remember; only release me when all hope seems lost and there is nothing left for you to lose..”

“...Goodbye,” said Troia, quietly. She took the scale with her levitational magic, slipping it into a pocket of her black cloak. She then walked to the portal and entered, looking carefully at the frozen window it provided a view of before stepping inside and slipping out entirely.

—

Troia finally arrived in Valorise, after countless hours of navigating through the frozen forests of Valorise- she didn’t know how long it took, after losing an unknown amount of time in the Corrupted Lands and Yang’s inner dimension. It took her some time to ask the locals to direct her to a blacksmith shop- she was frozen stiff, and nearly about to sink into the snow from exhaustion, but refused to stop until she arrived at his doorstep.

She rang the doorbell with the tip of her tail, almost too exhausted to shudder to keep her body warm. Pantalaimon’s Ophistles, cold blooded creatures that they were nearly frozen stiff, and had ceased  their movement to conserve what little warmth and energy they had. Troia’s spearbie remained unfazed- it could feel nothing.

The door cracked open slightly, and an eye peered out. “Who goes there?”

Troia coughed, unable to properly respond, and her body wracked with a shudder.

The door fully swung open to reveal Limekiln, who gawked at the sight of the frozen Troia. “You have one of my Spearbies! But I’ve never met you before… you’re frozen stiff to! You couldn’t have come at a worse time in this blizzard… come in, let me help you now!”  They ushered her in immediately into their workshop, where they asked her to wait, while they rushed to set down some spare burlap sacks for her to lie on next to the roaring magical fire of a forge. Once completed, she laid down on the sacks, stiffly- and already the frozen feeling that seeped into her core, feathers and fur slowly started to melt away. Pantalaimon’s Ophistles stirred, slightly, and slithered out of her knight’s cloak to rest above her body, closer to the heat emanating from Limekiln’s magical fire. 

Limekiln shook their head and sighed- slightly miffed that their work was interrupted but more concerned for her wellbeing than anything else. They kept sideyeing her Spearbie, who blinked once at Limekiln, but remained steadfastly by Troia’s side.

Spearbie was nearly frozen stiff, too, although it could not feel the cold like it’s living companions; it merely hovered in place to allow the heat of the fire to melt the layer of frost on it’s tip and handle.

“You nearly scared me to death out there,” they mumbled, gruffly, “I’ll get you a mug of brandy to make yourself nice and toasty.”

“Thank… you…” murmured Troia. “Sorry… for the inconvenience…”

“Don’t worry about that now. But once you’re up, you need to state your business- I hate to rush a potential client, but as you can see, I’m up to my neck in work for making enchanted weaponry, what with the upcoming war Valorise’ll wage with against the Corrupted Lands, and I’ll need all the space I can get to properly work.. I’ll be right back.” Limekiln trotted off into another room.

It took a few minutes for them to return with a tray of food levitating by their side. They set it down by Troia; they had brought a mug of brandy for her and even a little dish of lunar water for Pantalaimon’s Ophistles to share. Beside it was a small plate of Moonflower biscuits and a side of Moonpine needles.

“Eat up. A lot of xyns don’t like ‘em, but the moonpine needles’ll perk you right up from the sourness and- Oh.” Limekiln blinked.” That’s right… you’ve got a mask on. Mind taking it off to eat?”

“...” Troia’s ears laid flat against her head. She normally detested it when other xyns requested this of her, but this time she didn’t have the energy to protest- even she knew that she needed sustenance. “:ook away… then I will…”

“Suit yourself,” Limekiln shrugged. “How ‘bout I take a look at your Spearbie over there, while you eat? I won’t face you while I do. Just let me know when it’s safe for me to look.” They pointed the tip of their tail to a workbench behind Troia.

Troia nodded, and Limekiln whistled for Spearbie to follow them away from Troia. She dismissed her mask halo, and it faded away silently; turning her back to Limekiln, she slowly started to lap at her brandy, and nipped at the solid foods in between- making a face and struggling to down the Moonpine needles. Mercury and Hermes, sufficiently warmed by the fire, slithered down to drink the Moonwater. Hermes flicked it’s tongue at a Moonpine needle and almost curled up in disgust.

Limekiln, meanwhile, brought Spearbie up to their workbench, whistling as they brought up a magnifying scope to their eye to carefully study its body. The engraved metal glistened “I remember making this… it was for a noblexyn that lived here a long time ago,” they muttered aloud. “Long before I set up shop that you see now; it was a special request. The fellow said they wanted it for his child then they grew up; they brought so many precious materials to craft it it was almost as if they used his own blood, sweat and tears for it; and so I poured my heart and soul into making this for him when I saw how much they cared for what they wanted this ‘bie to be. I never saw him again… heard something terrible happened to him. Was that child you?”

Troia stopped eating. They were talking about Athens. “Well…” she began, slowly. It was much easier to speak now that she had some of her fill- the brandy was warming her belly, and the needles had indeed coaxed her awake. “I am the sibling of the xyn that this Spearbie was supposed to go to. She survived corruption… and she gave it up to me in the infirmary within this month. Our father wanted it for her, once, until she joined the Lullay knights; so it was supposed to go to me thereafter.” 

Spearbie laid, unmoving, but never took it’s eyes off of Limekiln. All spearbies communicate, but this one remained silent. they looked at it sadly. “My condolences…” they said, quietly. It was clear from the look of this Spearbie that despite it’s age, it had only been used recently in battle; they could vaguely make out the faintest hint of corruption that touched the flat of the engraved head, fashioned from stainless metal. And the Spearbie had already Troia, perfectly, despite her recent ownership of it. “This little one hasn’t given you any trouble since you took it in, has it?” they asked.

“No. It obeyed me from the start.”

“It’s respected the wishes of your father and sibling that it should go to you,” they said. ”It knew it had no reason to disobey you.” It wasn’t hard to see why; Spearbies were regal things, always following the orders of the brave and the chivalrous. 

“That being said, you’ve taken good care of this little one… and it’s taken good care of you. I couldn’t be prouder of one of my older ‘bies doing it’s job, even if it hasn’t been long for you.” Limekiln took out a polishing cloth and began to rub away at Spearbie’s head; it closed it’s eyes, not protesting or moving as they began very light maintenance work on it. Seeing how Spearbie had latched onto Troia and how she had cared for it, Limekiln already felt inclined to trust her too, slightly strange as she seemed from her mannerisms and eating habbits.

“So, can you tell me why you’re here? Your spearbie’s fine… there’s a few scratches here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I need an enchanted key… a Keybie..?” Troia said. She had nearly finished the mug of brandy; she levitated it up to her lips, tilting it into her mouth to down the last of the drink. Both Hermes and Mercury had drank their fill of their moonwater dish, and slithered back up to Troia’s legs to warm themselves further from the heat of her body. “And a second weapon. Can you do that for me?

Limekiln furrowed their brows as they scrubbed at a slightly rough patch on Spearbie’s engraved shaft. “Look, I’ve already taken a liking to you because your Spearbie has too, but I need to be blunt; every time I forge a ‘bie,” they began, “I must always ask for a rare material or a precious belonging, special to the owner, in order to bring a ‘bie to life. You clearly aren’t in any condition to risk your life out there searching for crafting good. And besides; I just told you that everyxyn in Valorise, is about to go to war in the Corrupted Lands. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been solicited for my services to make countless ‘bies.  Why are you asking me about a Keybie, now out of all times- not a weapon? You already have a Spearbie.”

Troia bit her tongue. If only she had the skills of Pantalaimon’s silver tongue and honeyed words to spin convincing lies- but Limekiln seemed like a difficult xyn to sell lies to, no matter who they came from.

 “... I want to help someone I know, because they deeply care about what will become of Lunerest- they need a Keybie for their companionship, in case they lose what they love most before the worst can happen. They’re too sick and unable to come here on their own; thus I arrived here on their behalf… and if something happens to Spearbie, I need. Something else to protect me. Please. I don’t know who else to ask for help with this.”

She was never one to beg or lie- she struggled, always, to express things that weren’t anger- but her voice quavered ever so slightly. She couldn’t fully understand why, even when she struggled to understand how she felt in that moment. 

But her words gave Limekiln pause, for several long moments.

Their hardened expression softened somewhat.

“... I’ve had to turn so many xyns away that thought that they were prepared to face the consequences of what they were asking for,” they began, “But this is different… because your Spearbie’s clearly shown that you’ve been trustworthy, I will honor this request; but you have to bring me something that clearly matters to you… your friend… by tomorrow morning. My schedule is tight.” They shook their head. “But I don’t know how  you’re going to do that with everything going on, never mind your constitution right now after being frozen into an icicle. You just thawed!”

“You don’t have to wait. I already have a material you can use for Keybie.” Troia set down the mug, and recalled her golden mask halo onto her face. She brought the golden scale out of her pocket and made her way over to Limekiln’s workbench, setting it down in front of Limekiln, and Spearbie palace itself a few inches away to make room for the massive scale; nearly the size of an average xyn’s pawpad. Mercury and Hermes flew over to observe the scale too, curiously.

Limekiln studied it, suspiciously at first; and the longer they looked the further their eyes widened in incredulity.

“Where… did you get this…?” They asked. They scratched it with a claw; but their claw glanced off the mirror-smooth golden metal, leaving it unscathed. “I haven’t seen a scale quite like this. It almost feels otherworldly… and I’ve seen many xyns bring countless bizarre things to me.”

Spearbie was eyeing Troia as she explained, briefly. “It was given to me by the xyn that wanted me to request a Keybie…they had nothing else for me. And this… for another weapon. I’m unsure of what to ask for if anything can be made out of this...”

Troia rummaged through her scout’s cloak, and brought out something soft and grey; it was the Lunewyrm plushie that Pantalaimon gifted her before she left on that fateful day in Wingfell. She shifted, shyly, as Limekiln took the plushie with their magic. It deeply hurt to think of giving up something that she had cherished so much even . But she had to think of her own survival; and Pantalaimon would understand.

Limekiln studied the plushie, and smiled more warmly this time.

“Ah, I see. Something you’ve clearly loved and put into the heart of caring for,” Limekiln said. “This will do nicely for a new ‘bie. Very well then. They turned to face Troia with a chuckle.

“You’ll have your ‘bies tomorrow morning. Come first thing when I open my shop and not a moment later, or you’ll have to face the morning rush of xyns grabbing their weapons for war from me too.”

Limekiln blew a puff of air onto Spearbie affectionately to encourage it to move; Spearbie understood their cue, and levitated over to Troia’s side. Mercury and Hermes followed it’s lead, flying over to Troia’s back and slipping under the warmth of her scout cloak. They both peeked out from underneath the neckline to look at Limekiln.

“Thank you,” said Troia. “I… can’t thank you enough.” She bowed her head, respectfully, and Spearbie tilted it’s head down slightly to mirror her gesture.

Limekiln gave Troia a warm smile. “Don’t mention it. I’m happy to know that my ‘bies are going to a xyn that my oldest one clearly trusts. It speaks volumes about you, you know.”

They guided Troia out the door, and they both exchanged their farewells; Troia left to find shelter in a nearby inn. 

Troia wasn’t sure of how to feel of Yang’s words; but she assured herself that, if anything went wrong during the Queen’s final battle… she had one last way she could save her world. She had to have faith that she could.