As Midnight walked into the smithy, he was assaulted by sounds and smells. Ringing hammer blows and hissing water combined with the acrid odor of burning metal resulted in a mixture that just screamed metal-working. For several moments Midnight just stood in front of the door and watched the smiths work. Eventually, however, a young earth pony noticed him and walked over.
“Can I help you?”
Midnight looked at the pony. “Possibly. I need to speak with Bladewing.”
The young stallion snorted. “Well, that’s not going to happen. Bladewing doesn’t have time to talk to some random pony off the street.”
Midnight sighed. He was already annoyed because Luna had forced him to take the next night off so he could rest for the tournament, and he had no patience to spare.
“I’ve known Bladewing for years, so I’m hardly ‘some pony off the street’. Just get out of my way and I’ll find him.”
The apprentice stomped at Midnight. “Hey, you’ll treat me with some respect. Just ‘cause you claim you know Bladewing doesn't mean that you can just waltz in and start ordering us around.”
“I didn't start ordering you around until after you decided to act like an ass. This is your last chance. Move.”
The apprentice narrowed his eyes. “Make me.”
“All right.”
Midnight’s horn began to glow as a green-flecked purple aura surrounded the apprentice. The pony shouted as he was lifted into the air and over a barrel, but before Midnight could drop him, a voice echoed through the forge.
"Midnight! What in the name of the nine kings are you doing?"
Midnight gently put the apprentice back onto the ground. The apprentice shot him a dirty look before quickly trotting off.
"Hello, Bladewing. I see that you still haven't figured out how to avoid hiring morons."
Bladewing angrily stormed up to him, his beak clacking in annoyance.
"How dare you say that!" he said, getting into Midnight's face, "The Royal Moron Society pays good money for me to hire those people, and you know it! Maybe you should be paying a bit more respect to your local idiots!"
The two of them stood there for a while, angrily glaring at each other with fire in their eyes.
Midnight was the first to crack up.
"Th-the Royal Moron Society?" he choked out, barely remaining upright as his body was wracked with laughter, "Do you have to—do you have to take a test to get in?"
"Yeah!" said Bladewing, joining Midnight with a deep, jovial laugh, "And maybe—and maybe if you pass the test, you can't join!"
With that the two fell deeper into their laughter, and were unable to speak again for a short while. The ponies working at the forges just rolled their eyes and continued their work, unfazed by the antics of one of their boss’s favorite customers.
Finally the two caught their breath, and Bladewing spoke up. “So, my question still remains: what are you doing here? You’re normally asleep at this time of day.”
Midnight took another moment to gather himself before he answered, “Well, I’m partaking in the exhibition tournament at the Summer Sun Festival tomorrow, so Princess Luna has ordered me to take tonight off, stating that she wants me to at least attempt to get some sleep tonight instead of going into the fights dead on my feet.”
Bladewing blinked. “Wait, you’re going to be in the tournament? I thought you gave that up years ago. Something about there being too many ponies there just to show off rather than fight.”
Midnight sighed. “Well, that is true, and I still don’t particularly want to be involved, but I’ve been challenged to a duel.”
“Who by?”
“Blueblood.”
Bladewing’s eyes seemed to bulge when Midnight named his challenger. “You mean those rumors are true? I thought that Blueblood’s challenge was just something the nobles made up!”
“Unfortunately not.”
Bladewing shook his head. “I don’t understand, why would you accept? There’s absolutely no possibility he can give you any kind of challenge. Tartarus, you spar with the griffon and minotaur ambassadors, you’ll just mop the floor with him!”
Midnight just shrugged. “Apparently he’s confident that he can win. Besides, after he made his threat I couldn’t really decline.”
Bladewing narrowed his eyes. “Threat? What threat? Your job’s too secure for that hhratch to be able to get you fired, and you have no family within his reach, so what could he possibly threaten you with?”
Midnight closed his eyes and took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing his forelegs together, feeling the divots in his leg from where the changeling magic had altered him after he broke his leg fighting the Timberwolf.
“Well, he isn’t overly fond of my trips...”
Bladewing’s brows furrowed together at Midnight’s words. “What do you mean your-“ Bladewing’s eyes suddenly lit up, only to narrow into angry slits once he realized what Midnight’s wording coupled with his rubbing his foreleg meant. “-He didn’t.”
“He did.”
Bladewing clacked his beak in anger. As one of Midnight’s few close friends, he was one of the few individuals who knew just how close Midnight was with the changeling Hive.
“That little piece of chiithi! I should-“ Bladewing was interrupted by Midnight stomping his hoof.
“You should leave him to me. And on that note, how’s my armor coming along?”
Bladewing hissed as he forced air through his beak, his naturally volatile temper still riled by the insult to his friend, but he was able to answer calmly all the same.
“It’s nearly done. In fact, I actually need your help to finish it.”
Midnight nodded once. “All right, let’s get it done. I want it ready for my matches.”
Bladewing led Midnight through the forge and into his private workshop. As Midnight entered he noticed an immediate change in the atmosphere. Instead of the smell of burning coal and molten metal, the inside of Bladewing’s personal forge was suffused with the acrid scent of magic. Midnight looked around, as even he was rarely allowed in his friend’s inner sanctum, and took note of multitude of special tools and utensils, most of which were covered in softly glowing runes.
“All right, before we get started, I’m going to need your payment.”
Midnight tilted his head at Bladewing, “Really? You never ask for payment until after you finish working.”
Bladewing ruffled his feathers. “That’s normally true, but in this case I need your payment before I can even attempt to make the final touches to your armor.” To emphasize his point, Bladewing gestured at his forge with one wing, which was very obviously unlit.
Midnight frowned. “After my last payment you should have had enough charged crystals to last you for years.”
“They would have, if you hadn’t asked me to work on that.” Bladewing lifted one talon and pointed behind him, where Midnight’s armor stood on a rack.
Unlike his previous suit of armor this suit was much more suited for mobility. The entire thing gleamed with the silver sheen of nightsteel, an allow made from moonsilver and regular steel, and was significantly lighter than his old plate armor. Rather than covering every inch of his body this armor only consisted of a helmet, a series of linked plates that would cover the wearers stomach and back, and two separate plates for each leg, each of which was supposed to have a blade on it, though said blades were conspicuously missing. Each plate was covered in a crawling vine motif.
“Really? It took that much abyssal fire to forge my armor?”
Bladewing snorted. “Do you have any idea how much magic it takes to overwhelm that moonsilver alloy’s natural resistance? I had to use up a crystal a day just for the engravings.”
Midnight grunted. “Huh. Didn’t expect that. So where are the crystals then? I can’t charge them if I can’t see them.”
Bladewing walked over to the forge and pressed several bricks. After he pressed the last one, something clicked and a door opened up in the wall next to it. Bladewing reached in and pulled out a simple wooden box and opened it, revealing five crystals sitting in the velvet-lined interior.
“Here they are, now do your stuff so we can get working.”
Midnight, however, was more interested in the security Bladewing felt was necessary for the crystals. “Don’t you think that a hidden cabinet is going a bit far with these?”
Bladewing glared at Midnight. “No, I don’t. I also don’t think that the numerous anti-theft wards I had placed on this box were going too far either. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hold of a crystal charged with abyssal fire legally? If I sold even one charged crystal I could feed a small town for a year, now stop dithering and charge the crystals so we can get started.”
Midnight stared at Bladewing. “And the reason you charged five of these for this job is?”
“Because your armor keeps you alive, and you don’t trust anyone else to do your metalwork. Now charge the crystals.”
Midnight shook his head, but his horn lit up with his magical aura, which slowly turned into pitch black flames as he fed magic into the crystals. “If what you say is true, then I should just go ahead and sell a couple crystals myself and retire.”
Bladewing snorted as he watched Midnight work. “We both know that you would go insane if you retired.”
Midnight just chuckled as he finished feeding magic into the crystals, one of which Bladewing removed before closing the box and putting it back into the wall. Carefully, he took the one that he still held and placed it into a small divot in the bottom of his forge. He then reached over and grabbed a small silver hammer with a simple ouroborous design engraved on its head, and used it to tap the crystal. When the hammer met the crystal a single pure tone echoed out, and Bladewing leaped back, just in time to avoid the explosion of black flames in the forge.
“One thing I hate about your spells, Midnight, is that they always tend to explode when stored.”
“Well, I only know combat magic, so it only makes sense that when it’s stored that it would act like a bomb.”
Bladewing grumbled under his breath as the fire settled down. After the fire was under control, he walked over to a table and grabbed several tools along with sizable chunk of moonsilver.
“It will take a while for the moonsilver to melt, so make yourself at home until we can get started.” With that Bladewing turned back to the forge, working on the metal.
Midnight decided to look around a bit, as he didn’t come back here often. Even though he and Bladewing were rather close, they tended to keep their professional lives to themselves, and most of what Bladewing did in his personal workshop he was very protective of, something Bladewing would brush off with a claw wave and a few mumbled words about trade secrets when questioned about it.
Midnight made his way around the workshop, inspecting the various tools and half-finished projects strewn about the room. As he was looking around, something caught his eye, and he picked it up in his magic.
The item that Midnight held up in front of him seemed to be a section of a scale-armor tunic, and showed all the hallmarks of an expert craftsman’s work. However, Midnight didn’t care about the quality of the piece: he was much more interested in the mark engraved into one of the silvery scales.
Midnight shifted the piece of armor to bring the mark directly in front of his face, allowing him to focus on it better. What midnight saw was the image of a sword wreathed in a crawling braid of fire. Right beside each end of the cross guard, a wing spread away from the blade, and right below the pommel a gryphon’s claw stretched downwards. Midnight frowned. He was very familiar with the markings on the armor, though he was mildly surprised and annoyed to see them in this way.
“Bladewing,” Midnight said in a dangerously calm voice.
Bladewing, oblivious to the warning signs in Midnight’s tone, grunted in response, too focused on his work to actually speak.
“Why is my cutie mark engraved into this piece of armor right in the middle of your maker’s mark?”
Bladewing’s head shot up and he almost dropped the rod he was using to keep the iron pitcher full of melting moonsilver in the flames. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Midnight dropped the armor and shot a glare at his friend. He was mildly surprised to see a sheepish look on the gryphon’s face, but he didn’t show it.
“On this armor, in between the wings and talon of your makers mark, is my Cutie Mark.”
Bladewing used one talon to rub the back of his head while the other kept the moonsilver in the fire. “Oh, that. Well, it’s not technically your Cutie mark since I didn’t bother to color it. See, the flame isn’t black and the hilt and crossguard aren’t red, so it’s not yours.” Bladewing’s eyes shifted right and left as he spoke, trying desperately to avoid Midnight’s own eyes.
Midnight glared at Bladewing. “You know damn well that’s not how that works, and you also know that the use of a pony’s Cutie Mark by anyone other than that pony as an identifying mark without permission is highly illegal. So why is mine sitting in the middle of your maker’s mark?”
Bladewing sighed. “What do you want from me, Midnight? I’m tired of making horseshoes, nails, and farming tools. I’m a weaponsmith, for Dawn’s sake! But most ponies don’t need or want weapons, and the predatory races who reside here that might want weapons refuse to buy them in a country as peaceful as Equestria. However, as one of the few ponies who is willing to spar with the ambassadors of the predatory races, you are recognized as being a warrior by most of them that would possibly want weapons, so I thought I’d add your mark to mine to add a little recognition, you know, get my name out as someone who can make weapons.”
Midnight continued to stare at Bladewing, not buying his sob story one bit.
Bladewing groaned. “Fine. I thought that it’d look good, all right? That’s all. Are you really going to make a big deal out of this?”
Midnight shook his head. “No, I’m not, but if you ever want to try something like this again, ask first. I’d really hate to try and bail you out of jail.”
Bladewing rolled his eyes and turned back to his forge. Midnight continued to look around the shop while Bladewing watched the moonsilver melt. After about thirty minutes Bladewing called out to Midnight.
“All right, the moonsilver’s ready. I need you to bring the casting mold.”
Midnight nodded and levitated the piece in question over to the table while he walked over himself, ready to do whatever it was that he needed to do to get this done.
“All right, now I need you to place the tip of your horn on the center of the magical array that I’ve engraved into the bottom of the mold, then focus on the feeling of casting a spell, any spell, but don’t actually cast it.”
Midnight gave Bladewing a somewhat confused look, but nevertheless did as he was asked.
Bladewing got closer to Midnight, who couldn’t see him holding the crucible full of molten moonsilver over Midnight’s horn.
“Now stay very still, this is going to hurt.”
Midnight didn’t get a chance to ask what Bladewing was talking about when his entire world became engulfed by the searing agony that was running down his horn. He wanted to scream, but his throat had closed up. He tried to jerk away, but the magical properties of the molten moonsilver running down his horn had mixed with his incomplete spell and held him bound to the array. Finally, after an eternity that lasted all of ten seconds, Bladewing stopped pouring. The moonsilver finished flowing down Midnight’s horn and he was able to jerk away from the armor and let out an eardrum-shattering roar of pain.
Once Midnight felt he had himself under some semblance of control he whirled on Bladewing. “What the HELL are you doing? Give me one good reason not to roast you from the inside out! Gah, I think I can taste magic…”
Bladewing simply stared at Midnight as he stuck the remaining silver back into the fire.
“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be able to channel your flames through the blades on your greave plates. In order to link the array to your magic I had to mix a magically potent metal with your own magic, and this is the best way to do that. Besides, your horn’s no worse for wear and the array came out perfectly, so relax.”
Midnight started to reply, but instead stopped to check and see if Bladewing was telling the truth. He reached up and prodded his horn before he ran a small flow of magic through it. To his surprise, Bladewing had spoken the truth. There was no charring, no reduction of magical conductivity, nothing.
After he had confirmed that his horn was still intact, Midnight walked back up to the armor to get a closer look at the new silver ingot that would wind up being forged into more nightsteel in order to make the blades that would go on his legs.
Bladewing spoke from behind Midnight. “It’s permanently linked to you, and only you. Now, if you want to channel some magic while you’re in armor, you can activate the link and the blades will burst into flames. Though I should warn you, you are still the source of power for the spell, so you use the same amount of energy to cast the spell the second time as you do the first, which means you’ll need to be more careful with your reserves.”
Midnight grumbled a bit before he sighed. “Fine, but you should have warned me, though I am happy that it worked.”
Bladewing chuckled as he brought the crucible back out of the forge. “Glad to hear you say that, because now it’s time to make the other ingots. Get ready on the next mold.”
Midnight swore.