“What happened?” Braelin yawned, jumping down from the bed and walking over to join them.
“Your brother challenged me to a sparring match this morning and landed a hit on me,” Jurao replied, motioning to the bandage, “I was telling Feyl about his weapons, though I suppose I…”
Normally, Jurao would claim discussing weapons bored his best friend - which was a lie, but Feyl’s family had never approved of his interest in blacksmithing, so Feyl preferred it not be widely known that he did so. However, when it came to his romantic partner, he found he would rather not do so - but not doing so without asking Feyl also felt… wrong.
“Malson always liked weapons,” Braelin said, then looked up, “I wonder how old his kids are… a dagger is a usual first-decade gift for demon children, right?”
“It is,” the King nodded. It was seen as a celebration that the child has survived long enough to need their first personal dagger - usually on the utilitarian side for basic tasks rather than as a weapon.
“Were you thinking of getting one for the kid?” Feyl chuckled.
Braelin nodded, humming, “I could make another thorn dagger, but something more traditional might be better for a child…”
Feyl hesitated, then said, “You could take one of the daggers from my suite if you want.”
“Braelin’s been to your suite,” Jurao asked in surprise.
“During some of the etiquette lessons,” his valet waved a hand, “It was the best place I could think of for it.”
“Thank you,” Braelin said, “Though you’d probably know better than me what would work best.”
Feyl’s tail twitched, and he replied, “We could just stop in before the two of you head to breakfast - Jurao has a good eye for weapons.”
The King almost physically felt the absence of the ‘as well’ at the end of that sentence.
“Ten eyes are probably better than six,” Braelin shrugged, grabbing his own clothes from the bottom of the wardrobe and heading towards the changing screen, as he usually washed up at night.
Jurao looked at his best friend curiously - he wasn’t acknowledging his own interest or knowledge of weaponry, but it was odd that he wasn’t denying it, either.
Feyl wasn’t meeting his gaze - but did shrug slightly, tail still twitching.
I’ll follow his lead then, the King decided.
After Braelin had dressed, they did make their way to Feyl’s suite - located in a nearby connected hallway, as was most practical for a royal valet. Petal joined them along the way; finished soaking overnight as was its way.
Jurao had not been in his best friend’s quarters for some time, but the receiving room was much as he remembered when he’d helped Feyl move in nearly a century ago. Feyl had two couches and several more chairs before his hearth in comparison to Jurao, and the space was as tidy and organized as the first day it had been arranged.
And along every inch of wall space, with a few display racks set up in the room and even larger pieces hanging from the ceiling - were meticulously maintained weapons.
Jurao knew that Feyl had made them all - he usually went to the empty Civil Smithy after their nightly game of Ascension to spend a few hours on his craft, making up the missed sleep at some point during the day. Jurao also knew Feyl did not often have others in his quarters due to the weaponry and the questions it usually garnered.
“Daggers are over here,” Feyl said, leading the way over to one portion of wall covered in nothing but daggers of all shapes, sizes, materials, and styles, “This first column is all traditional demon style, the ones near the top only use demon metals, then human, siren, and fae - the bottom six are all fusions. The columns follow the same pattern for styles, with the order repeated for metals down the rows. The last column is combined styles and other experiments.”
“Are you sure it’s alright?” Braelin asked, even as he looked over the impressive collection. Petal settled next to the human - tendrils kept carefully away from any sharp edges.
“I really have too many; I just don’t have anywhere better to store them,” Feyl sighed, holding out his top set of arms while the bottom set rested on his hips, “You’re doing me a favor, really. Besides, weapons are made to be used, not displayed.”
That was a line from Jurao’s aunt - and the King, of course, knew, a common saying amongst smiths in general. Especially ones hailing from Mesescima like Nevve.
“That one looks like the kind we had back in Jost,” Braelin said, pointing one out after a few more moments.
“That makes sense,” Jurao said, taking it off the wall for his partner, “The seax is a common style in the Northwestern Reaches.”
“And this one was made with demon metal?” Braelin asked, looking the blade over - it was more like a short sword than a dagger in his hands, but a child would grow into it well.
“Yes,” Feyl said - then hesitated before adding, “You can tell by the color - demon metals tend to have that distinct reddish hue. Fae metal has an iridescent sheen, while siren metal tends to be darker and heavier than expected due to its density, with very little shine.”
Braelin hummed, “What about the other kinds?”
“Well,” the valet glanced at Jurao, but held up a hand before the King could answer for him, “Human metals tend to have more shine than others, but it matches the color of the metal being worked. Elven metal is rare - most of their tools and weapons are made of wood or bone. Dragonic metal is also difficult to come by and even more difficult to work. While the magicka inherently found in fae metal makes it extremely malleable, the magicka in dragonic metal is the opposite - making it difficult to shape as it tries to maintain its original form.”
“It’s said that the most difficult part of smithing fae metal is maintaining a clear mind,” Jurao added, “Aunt Nevve explained it as the metal being highly receptive to the thoughts of the smith - so losing focus makes the metal shift away from its intended purpose. Dragonic metal also requires strong focus - but in the form of sheer willpower, rather than intention.”
“It’s widely believed that if a smith’s ‘wish’ for a weapon is strong enough, the fae smithing deity Eah’mehn will bless the working to even greater magical strength for fulfilling its purpose,” Feyl added, “While dragonic metals require both strength of arm and determination - you have to be more stubborn than the metal to convince it to take a new shape. And whoever wields a tool or weapon made from dragonic metal needs to be skilled enough for the metal to accept them.
“As for the rest - troll metals aren’t common either, especially since they spend most of their time underwater,” Feyl went on with a sigh, “They also tend to use bone more than anything else. Beastkin metals tend to be too soft for anything besides decoration.
“So most smiths stick with the most workable and easier-to-come-by types,” the valet shrugged, “Human metal is good all around, fae is malleable and holds enchantments with ease, siren is dense and magic resistant - so it can cut through magic armors and such - and demon metal is the hardest, but most brittle.”
“I see,” Braelin said, then smiled, “I like that this one is a combination of human style and demon metal - I think it should suit Malson’s child.”
“You’ll have to get a sheath made for it if you want one,” Feyl said, “I don’t have any here.”
“That makes sense,” Braelin said, “Since you’re a blacksmith, and sheaths aren’t usually made of metal.”
Feyl’s mouth went through a few different motions before he settled on asking, “What makes you say that?”
Braelin looked up, blinking in surprise, “Isn’t it obvious?”
Jurao wasn’t sure what to say - it did seem obvious, once one had all the pieces to put together. But it always seemed more like people didn’t want to connect them - even Minaz didn’t, after all. She was under the impression that Nevve made the weapons secretly against her public declarations of mostly giving up weaponsmithing - using Feyl as a convenient funnel. Feyl had given her pick of the lot in exchange for not probing further.
Feyl’s tail twitched before he turned and collected a spare cloth wrap from a nearby shelf. He said, “Not to most people - and I prefer keeping it to myself and… close friends.”
“Oh,” Braelin said, accepting the cloth to wrap the dagger with a grateful nod, “Alright then. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Feyl said - then cleared his throat and put on a presentation smile to go on, “Now! If you two don’t hurry up, you’re going to be late for breakfast!”
The valet half-pushed them both out of the room, and Jurao suspected he just wanted to move on from the conversation. Especially since Feyl then excused himself to take care of business elsewhere once they were in the hall.
Braelin frowned after him, but glanced at the nearby guards and sighed.
“Did you have any specific research to work on this evening,” Jurao asked, gently leading the way to breakfast.
His partner’s brows furrowed, then cleared in realization, “No - I’d planned to walk with you to your office after the midday meal. I think it might give me a better pace to work then and double-check the gardens again after the evening meal.”
The King nodded - he would explain more at that time.
When they arrived at the Heads of Staff Dining Hall, Festi asked, “What’s that, Braelin?”
“Since one of my brother’s children is apparently half-demon,” the human replied as he walked to his seat, “I thought it would be a good idea to find out if they needed a first-decade gift yet.”
Petal, as usual, settled under his seat.
“How thoughtful!” Gavven giggled.
“Dagger, then?” Festi hummed, “Got a sheath yet?”
“No,” Braelin replied, “I was going to check in with the artisans later.”
“You’d do better to head into town,” Festi replied, “I mean, we’ve got some good craftsmen, but our leatherwork is pretty utilitarian and geared towards the average guard or soldier - it’ll cost more, but you’ll find the higher quality and more decorative work from city shops.”
“Thank you,” Braelin said, “I still haven’t gone into town myself, so it seems like a good opportunity. I’ll see if Malson wishes to go as well - he’ll know his child’s preferences better than me.”
“By the way, Kloy,” Minaz grinned, “Malson said his demon partner is a cousin of yours.”
“Oh?” the Royal Physician asked with a gentle smile.
“Jaevve?” Minaz replied.
Kloy’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed a little less bright as he said, “Oh, so his partner and child are members of the main branch of the ruling family of Lajaonar. Hm.”
“... no really,” Festi sighed, rubbing their temples, “What is your brother?”
Gavven tittered, “I wonder if they’re married - that would give Malson her rank, which is higher than Braelin’s.”
“I’d have to change my records,” Hujur hummed, jotting down a note.
“... I’d like to say he would have mentioned being married,” Braelin sighed, looking a bit defeated, “And he probably would, eventually, but since it’s only been two days and the ceremony was right away…”
“And he went off with Goyl right after it…” Minaz snorted.
Braelin sighed again, “I have a lot of things to ask him about today.”
“... please do let me know if his and my cousin’s child is at that age,” Kloy said, then snorted, “I would not be surprised if Jaevve has not informed her parents, and we have our own specific first-decade traditions in Lajaonar regarding gifts from extended family.”
“I will,” Braelin agreed, then rolled his eyes, “Since Malson will probably forget…”
“So that’s not new, then?” Minaz snorted, “The not mentioning important things bit.”
“Well,” the Royal Gardener considered, “Outside of deliberate politics, Malson always mentions whatever he thinks is most important at the moment - but what he thinks is most important at the moment might not be what someone else thinks is most important overall.”
“So basically,” Vajur scoffed, “He’s short-sighted.”
“He’s,” Braelin paused, then looked askance, “Very focused on the present.”
“Sure,” Vajur rolled his eyes, “Where’d you get a dagger that fast, anyway?”
Braelin hesitated to reply.
“Let me guess,” Minaz grinned, “The smithing spirit?”
