“Chieftain how goes the training? I saw the little miss rush out that way… Is she responsible for that?” The butcher called out from the other side of the main street referring to the red marks across his face. Vexariz couldn’t help but shrug in response, turning his gaze toward the butcher and his stall. The snow below was painted red with the guts of countless animals, small and large. His gut was protruding behind his leather apron, cleaver in motion, separating yet another hare from its head.
“Also, where is my cleaver you giant oaf? I’ve been waiting almost a month… Can’t you see how hard it is to cut with this raggedy thing.” Holding up his worn-out cleaver, the butcher emphasized how the edges were starting to dull and the rot surrounding the wooden hilt.
“I heard you the first thousand times Janek you old goat! Can’t you see how busy I am?... Once I finish the other tools, I will get to yours… Just be patient.” Janek had nothing else to say but he could be heard grumbling, his irritation audible to all within the town square. Instead of arguing the two went their separate ways, Vexariz to the forges at the northernmost ridge, and Janek back to his wares.
Everywhere he went the people would respectfully greet the lumbering giant, Janek being an exception to the rule, but was expected regarding interactions between old friends. For the most part Vexariz was revered within Grenne, the original seat of his clan’s power. This was especially true for those citizens sporting a brand upon their body, which could be somewhere as inconspicuous as the shoulder, or as noticeable as the side of the face. These citizens were often not natives of Kyrnos, many of whom were slaves rescued during the many Balearii raids on the nearby pirate camps or transport ships.
Raiding was also a major source of funds and food for the Balearii, they had always been raiders, but in recent years Vexariz with the assistance of the Scholar had developed new methods of hilltop farming and irrigation, methods that had allowed the clan to become more self-sustaining. Raids were still a custom, and the warriors of the clan took to it well, but rather than raiding weakly defended coastal settlements, their targets had changed.
Now it was the pirates who feared the notorious Crimson Bears whose black ships were known to attack without warning, striking camps and piracy routes without mercy. Vexariz in turn would free enslaved people, either returning them home or allowing them into the fold, freeing up additional manpower to bolster either the fields or their naval forces. The crimson furred behemoth roaring upon a black background had become a source of trauma for many of those engaged in piracy within the north Adrite Sea.
All of which was possible due to a handful of innovations that Vexariz himself had helped to piece together. As the red bearded giant pushed through his thick oaken doors, he was met with the sounds of hammers striking metal. The heat of the forge blasting away the cold, both heat and cold creating a hazy mist nearest the open door.
Shaking the thin layer of snow from his shoulders the burly chieftain shut the great oaken slabs behind him, placing his furs upon a nearby table. “Sabina, Anselm, when will you come and greet your master with a cup of karva?” Vexariz yelled at the top of his lungs towards the rear of the building, the source of the heat and location of the forges. Seconds later there was a loud crash as something metallic could be heard colliding with stone.
“GAAH! You stupid old bear! You broke my concentration! Do you think it’s easy piecing together this wood and iron! To get this much tensile strength in such a device. An hour of work wasted… I’LL STRANGLE YOU!” There was another echo of crashing metal, the sound of something falling, followed closely by the young golden-haired woman rushing through the archway towards Vexariz with arms outstretched.
She never closed the distance as another pair of thick muscled arms closed in around her waist and kept her rooted in place, the boy with the dark curly locks taking quite the beating from her flailing arms. “Cousin, stop! You must control your anger… I know you haven’t slept for days, but how can you strike our benefactor. Please control your rage.” Keeping a firm hold on the woman’s bare waist, the young man accepted the hits as she desperately tried to get free. Waiting as her temper simmered and she slowly exhausted herself.
Both man and woman were in their early twenties, the girl Sabina was the daughter of some northern Galian chieftain, the boy, Anselm, her cousin, and a member of a branch family of the clan. The two were saved from slavery almost a decade ago when they were still children, and they alongside Vexariz’s daughter Cauaria had become inseparable, virtually indistinguishable from siblings.
Unlike Cauaria the two Galian’s were exceptionally dexterous with their hands, possessing a natural affinity with the hammer and perfect senses for smithing. This was the primary reason why they spent most of their time within the forge, crafting all manner of contraptions and tools. Many of the more advanced designs coming from the Scholar himself. Yet with the increased workload it was not often they found time for fun, whether that entail hunting or raiding.
“Now… Now, calm down girlie. Listen to your cousin, yes. I did come to check out some of the work, but I’m also here to help. Besides, I know how hard the two of you have been working… So, I thought maybe you’d be interested in seeing some of them in action. We got a bit of a mission, and the Scholar himself will-” Vexariz felt the impact first, it was as if he had been punched in the gut, the wind escaping him for just a second.
Years working the forges had strengthened both children, where Cauaria was lithe and muscular, they were stockier with thicker muscles. Both carrying the power to smash a man’s skull with relative ease, just as well as they bend iron within the Grennese forges.
“You know I raised the two of you, it hurts my heart how much you look forward to seeing Grandpa Caedyrn but are always so rude to me… What’s up with that?” Neither of the children bothered to answer his question, with Sabina grabbing his fur coat from the table and wiping the soot from her body.
“SABINA! What have you done! That was Direwolf fur, you know how hard it is to get one with such a nice golden-brown color.” Vexariz was on his knees grasping his poor soot-stained cloak, trying desperately to get the grease and black stains out from the individual strands.
“Forget about the cloak old man, just follow us, we have something to show you. We couldn’t decrease the strength required to load the Gastrobelles, but we did make some modifications to make it more useful to someone like you. But… anyone who wants to use it will require something similar to your bear like strength, if I didn’t make that obvious enough the first time.”
Sabina dragged Vexariz towards the back of the forge while Anselm had rushed ahead pulling something from the many items lying around. The device was around three and a half to four feet in length, it had four flexible wooden arms and a thick wooden frame. Tightly wound bull tendons stretched the arms back and connected to the main frame where a sliding mechanism was present. Upon this slit lay an arrow, its shaft was thick, and it did not feature the feathered end like a normal arrow.
“This is the modification I made on the Gastrobelles, taking inspiration from some of the design elements from the item Grandpa Caedyrn sent to us last time. Especially the firing and loading mechanisms, to be honest no normal person can use this, but what it lacks in speed and range, it more than makes up for in precision and penetration power. I call it a crossbow, get it… the arms are across from one another, and it functions as a bow… why do I bother.” At this point Vexariz had clearly stopped paying attention to what Sabina was saying, his intentions were clear.
Knowing what the man wanted and needing someone to test the weapon in rapid succession there was only one thing left to do. “To the weapons range!” Anselm yelled in joy, as testing the tools created was the one thing he always had to look forward to.
