RED WINTER [III]

**6 days left**

"You're quite the early riser I see," said the blacksmith as Renard came into the store. He was holding several blueprints, and several materials were afloat around him, revolving around him.

"Levitation?" Renard wondered.

"No, not really. I have a skill that enables me to craft using the best materials and the correct proportions of metals and other materials. It is the signature skill of the Gandir family, granted by the Light Sovereign Algad; The Blade Sovereign. Unfortunately, because of what we are, we cannot use it every time, but less than three times every year." He said as a smile appeared on his face.

"You are our future King, so I shall use my all to make a longsword suitable for you." He said as they both went to the inner chamber. Before the blacksmith could light up the forge, Renard asked to do it instead, insisting on helping out, which the blacksmith had no reason to refuse. As he looked at Renard, a pure white flame, with a golden outer lining, burst forth, lighting up the forge. 

"Such a pure flame.." He said as a certain flashback hit him. 

"Remember, the flames show the heart of the caster. The purest of the purest.... Have white flames." 

The voice was both deep and calming. He could not clearly remember the face, all he remembered was his crimson hair, which seemed to glisten in the light.

"I see.. A white flame, with a golden lining.. This is how pure his heart is." He thought as he looked at the boy in front of him. He still wondered about that flashback, but for now, he just wanted to observe the beautiful flames in front of him. He did not know when his old soul would leave this world, but he had a fleeting feeling that he would not see these flames again. 

"Shall we start?" He asked.

"Yes!"

On the top of the forge, was a large cube like structure. The Blacksmith's arms suddenly started glowing green, and as if responding to him, the cube opened up, separating into what seemed like a flower shape. Inside was an orb, filled with a deep purple hue. 

The blacksmith assumed a prayer position, humbling himself in front of the orb.

"Oh ye, Sovereigns of light and dark, I humble myself before thee. Cleanse my soul as I am impure and but a mere mortal, as I dare to graze the world of the transcended." 

"That prayer.... He intends to use divine essence!"

Renard's shocked reaction was not an overreaction, as divine essence was the true mana of the Sovereigns. The only way to even come into contact with such mana was when a Sovereign personally decides to grant you with it, yet in front of Renard, was divine essence, sealed in an orb. How? Why was it there? 

These thoughts stormed Renard's young mind.

"Renard, this is a secret that has been carried down the blacksmith family, even before we rare bloods came to be. Trust me, all will be okay." the blacksmith said.

As Renard nodded, the glass sphere suddenly cracked. The cube reformed, and started closing. As it did, Old Sigurd, the blacksmith, added in some metals and materials that were afloat around him. 

"Now, I shall prepare the mold. This shall be left for around a week or more, in order to ensure that the divine essence is combined into the molten solution. For now, you can go outside for a bit, as I prepare the mold." Sigurd said.

"No, I shall be at the shop with the customers." Renard said. Sigurd sighed, knowing that Renard would insist on the matter.

"Okay, I very much appreciate."

As soon as word spread that Renard was helping Rigurd manage the shop, many elves came, wanting to see hoe Renard was carrying things out. And so, he bonded with many people as he tried to help everyone out. He got many things wrong, and did not know some items that some people said, but they all helped him out as they had a good laugh. The day passed by so fast for Renard, as it became a very draining day.

**5 days left**

As the snow now started to quickly accumulate, the elves began placing artifacts all over the roads, shops and the central area, in preparation for their festival. The people had divided themselves. Some drew spell circles on the roads and some did the artifact cast. The artifacts cleared the snow on the inner roads and central area using a low flame skill. As that was done, all the rest volunteered to do the painting and repairs of any damaged places. After all was done and placed, the artifacts were turned off, as they now awaited the festival. 

Renard and Sigurd met after all the preparations, as they made further changes on the mold of the longsword. 

"Do not change much though. Weapons with Divine essence do have divine abilities, and might be able to change at will." Sigurd said, although he too was not sure. The Essence had stayed in their family for centuries, all he had as proof that it would be special was the lessons his father taught him.

"I have to admit though," Sigurd said, "You have quite the artistic hands, don't you?" He asked as he looked at the incredible details Renard had drawn and illustrated.

"Lucia taught me." He replied happily.

"Oh? Is Lucia that young girl that accompanies you outside and comes for you here?"

"Yes! She's just the best!" He replied as he went on talking about her. Sigurd listened through all of it as he smiled.

"It seems like we already have our future queen." He said as he let out a chuckle. Renard's face turned beetroot red.

"N-No! She is older than me... I view her like a model for me, nothing more!" He replied.

"Oh? An age gap? Even if you say that, why is it that you speak about her so passionately, like a young man who is in love?" Sigurd asked as he laughed. This led to a series of relentless talking, as Renard tried to justify himself. Through all this, Sigurd laughed as his bonds with Renard became tighter and tighter. His mood was quite lively, and he now started to long to talk more and more to him as the days passed.

**4 days left**

**3 days left**

**2 days left**

**1 day left**

Their bonds became as deep as the accumulated snow outside. The roads were now silent and empty and there were now fewer people.

Everyone was waiting for the next day, some for the festivals, and for the slowly approaching army, their weapons wailed out, begging for blood.

And so, the red winter; a day filled with crimson snow, wails of the innocent, and the clash of weapons and magic began.