//------------------------------// // Fate's Will // Story: A Home Under the Moon // by Ciivam //------------------------------// A Home Under the Moon Chapter 4: Fate’s Will The crash of the hammer sounded the chamber as orange sparks flew outwards and away from the hot sheet of iron resting upon the anvil. Before long, Novus, holding the hammer in her magical grasp, struck the metal sheet again, bending it in its pliable state to a curve, suit for the armour set’s breast plating. She had been on this piece for a good few hours, having first smelted the piece with some additional ores before she could start with the rebuilding. And while her time was spent waiting, she took that time reading over her father’s enchantment book, being left behind – along with every item he had owned in their home – in his departure. While not many ponies knew how to read or write, those who did were taught to be scribes, – often keeping to the inside of the Sisters’ castle – were nobles of high influence or were just taught by their parents, should they have learned. However, those whom did write would usually keep their scripts to parchment sheets, books of any quality being a luxury to those who had no knowledge on how to craft them. She was never initially good at replicating his creations, yet she had managed to tweak some of them to work easily, and sometimes even better than they once were, she found. Yet, there was but one particular one she had tried to alter but could not wrap her head around its workings. She decided to set it aside, however, to check upon the smelting progressing, which was now ready for molding. She had set the ingot to cool in its cast for a good while, before setting it on the anvil, with her magic, while it was still hot and not molten. Then, Novus started molding the newly formed ingot into a breastplate, ready for enchantment. The last strike of the hammer sounding on the anvil rung in her ears slightly as she drew the book over to her sight for the next step. Flipping through the pages of the notebook, until she happened upon that same enchantment she had struggled repeating on any item. The enchantment was simple and invaluable, yet intricate and costly. It was a reflective enchantment, meant for sliding indirect strikes off armour. Direct piercing broke through the enchantment. And sometimes, the armour. The enchantment, however, was required by every unicorn-run smithy to be applied to every breastplate. Memorising the spell work as well as she could, Novus charged her horn. Focusing on the breastplate, the runic parts flowed through her mind as the simplest of the enchantment was formed and applied onto the piece of armour. Then, Novus’ observant side caught a part of the matrix that could be strengthened. But, as she set to altering it, Novus found a part it was connected to had weakened in response. Moving to fix that line turned her to another, all until all she was doing was overloading her magic. And then, with a fizzle and a flash, the spell collapsed. Novus followed after as she fell backwards with the failed enchantment. As Novus stood, she narrowed her eyes at the breastplate, studying it for any sign of the enchantment having stuck. None. She let off a snort of irritation, before mumbling softly to herself, “Tis troubling…” Setting the chest piece to the side for the time being atop a stand, Novus started to the other damaged and worn pieces. Mayhap she would have better chance with them. She lifted first the helm in scraps, placing them alongside unrefined iron in a smithing pot, ready to start again. Walking through the streets of the fragmented town, brown travel cloak tightly fastened around her neck, Novus took notice of the mellow atmosphere surrounding every pony she had passed. Other ponies would often be too busy with their own affairs to take notice of their fellows. But, when they do, they would find differences in each other. Yet, with nothing to focus on, Novus saw as family were drowned down in melancholy, ponies she would see running midday market stalls sat, staring with eyes of fire at the guards, or the constructing wall or stonemasons. Quite possibly, for their stalls were yet to pass over the new border, if ever. Novus herself had come out to the town streets, hoping to clear her mind for the challenge waiting for her at home. Yet all she saw was the great depression that had taken the folk of Libria Semper. She tightened her cloak with one hoof as she walked further into the fractured market, in hope of a distraction by restocking. In thought, she hoped a farmer’s stall was open, for there was yet one left in her care. To her fortune, a single stall lay open, crates set with small piles of produce, with the thestral running the stall, cleaning, and adjusting boxes and others around the stand. Novus grabbed her cloth bag of bits from under her cloak, untying it by the string that bound it, to count the number of bits she had on her. Alas, there was not enough for her to buy for a meal. Forlorn, she tied it by the string again, placing it back to its place. Mayhap she best wait until after the delivery gave her pay. She did have enough food for another night, luckily. Turning from the market, Novus walked away and towards another part of town, hoping for the peace of mind she set out to mind. Yet, it was clear just how badly other ponies had been hit. Especially those past the barricade. She stopped as a flying shadow passed over her, moving east and away from her. Looking up and behind, Novus caught sight of Lady Sun’s closed chariot depart the town borders. Considering no towns were out that far east, only small settlements on the coast, it seemed strange to her that the princess would go there. Even after her visit to the Canterhorn. Moving on, Novus continued to walk around town. She still had many pieces of the amour to complete, some small and vital, so she felt like she should not spend more time away than she needed. The only problem was the chest piece’s enchantment. She just hoped she could strengthen it without it crumbling again. She also had hoped of no repeat of the Crystal War, like her what father would talk about. It was a darker time, worse than the draconequus’ reign, or so he would say. Novus walked alongside the outer stone wall, tracing it all the way up and to her home upon the hill. She wanted to take the longer route, giving her more time to think of a simple way to cast the enchantment. She could cast it as it was meant to be, but she could not leave a spell, enchantment, or other if it could be improved. ‘Nay,’ she spoke internally, ‘t’would not do, to leave such flaws in such a spell. Not afore the worst hast yet to cometh.’ Her features softened as her mind shifted to her, one so dear. She held a sad sort of happiness in the thought she would never have seen how quickly Lady Sun, and hers, had turned upon Semper. Mayhap it was for the best. Mayhap the princess was as betrayed, and that was why she flew east. Novus was just not sure. Too many questions. She had just best get home and hope to ride out the storm, unscathed. She quickened her pace, now resolute and ready to face the coming challenges, as a whole. But then, she stopped. A sudden thought stuck in her head, she doubled her pace, hoping to try as soon as she could. T’was not long after, she came up to her home’s right, having kept to the wall – all the way up to the small hill, where her mother lay. She had moved to the smithy, just behind, when Novus realised, she had left her travel garments on. ‘T’would naught be of the wisest to step near the wild flame, whilst mineself be coated in such a beast’s food, so as to have lost mine only shelter to ash,’ she thought, her magic working to undo her cloak, setting it beside the door’s front. Nodding to herself, she stepped within her father’s workshop. Soon, she found the main part of the chest piece, the piece that had to be applied, with magicks set to suit it, written and left opposite it. For a long time, she stood, staring at the book. For but a longer time, it was her guide to magic. While it was with stories she shared with her mother – of fantastical and truth, with some yet untold – it was that book's content, and his craft, that she related with her father. But that was all it was to remain. A memento. A memory. A good memory. T’was a guide, to her, yes. Yet a guide can only take one so far. And it showed her so much. But now, t’was the time to venture forth by herself. And she was ready. As her features shifted it a look of fondness – for the memories held deep in her heart – Novus picked the book up in her magic, dragging over, and through the air, to herself. Looking upon its cover, sparing a moment to remember, she found herself reminiscing. Of many a day sat studying the enchantments within. And learning to read from its pages, once unintelligible. Without looking at its pages, Novus set the book down on an oaken stool. Taking up the front piece, in place of the small, parchment-filled book, she prepared her magic. Novus had no idea whether it might be successful, if she needed more practice, but she had to just try first. The enchantment glowed, in mind and on horn. She had only the foundation to go off of, but it shan’t be too little, or so she thought. Instead advancing to the point she would start making changes to imperfections, Novus began building from the set changes she tried so hard to apply. Focusing one up at a time, she completed the first portion faster than she ever had. Unfortunately, so wrapped in the improvements of the spell, she had never gotten so far as to applying the enchantment, but it came easy, like any other. That was when she flared. Nothing sparked the internal reaction, yet it happened, all the same, leaving magicks leaking everywhere. Cast and tools, fire and water. All lifted, all altered, with no control but that of the wild beast that was the untamed magical energy and all that accompanied its magicks. Novus, being within the storm’s eye, had not but the faintest idea of what had befallen the humble blacksmith’s shop. By the end, it was sure no true permanent damage had taken the shop, and its contents. Charcoal melted back from an ivory prison, wine flowed back into water, not all collecting back into its bucket. Warm coals dropped in their stony pit of the furnace. Yet all this had not been seen upon, for the lavender unicorn had been left blinded by a bright flash of some magic, left lying on the floor. When she could see, the first she lay her eyes upon, was the armour piece in which she had worked hard to finish. Picking out a loose piece of charred wood, she threw it at the breastplate, where it flew off upon contact, in another direction. A good sign she had succeeded.