It was not much beyond half of an hour when Jon finished the silver inlay work when there was a knock on his rented apartment door.
So focused on his work, Jon had not noticed the rainstorm that had set in until he opened the door. Sister Cordelia stood there, hand still in the motion of knocking, with a polite but expectant smile on her face. She was soaked to the bone, her robes, and hair heavy with the extra water.
"Mr. Chess, I am pleased to hear of your success." Her voice raised to be heard over a crack of lightning and roar of thunder.
Jon stepped back, opening the door widely.
"And may I ask from whom you heard of my success?" He asked, not expecting an answer that would make sense to him; Jon had long ago come to the conclusion that many of the Tidesages were accustomed to listening to unseen voices.
The Tidesage just pointed upward, "The depths whispered it in my ear as the storm came in, having heard it from the rain as it fell into the streams and rivers as they themselves followed the current's flow back to the Tidemother's embrace. As I said before; Everything - eventually - flows back to the sea."
Jon smirked. Precisely the sort of answer he had anticipated. "Of course. " Jon went and gathered the books and lantern for the Tidesage. "These are for you, Sister Cordelia. No humans were hurt in the retrieval of the items."
"They are not human, but your commitment is praiseworthy nonetheless." Cordelia picked up the books, inspecting them carefully for damage before wrapping them like one would a newborn in watertight oilskin, then tucking them into a bag made of the same material. She then picked up a set of scrolls, the ones Jon knew to be named "Tales of Ny'alotha", and in one fluid motion cast them into the fire, the dry paper nothing more than parched pine needles to the roaring blaze, which disintegrated the text in a flash. Cordelia's eyes never left the flames until they were wholly consumed. The room was dark, given the hour, yet the shadows seemed to grow darker and darker still until Jon was forced to turned his head to study this phenomenon. The room was the same as it had ever been. Nothing was moved, no other individual could be detected with his well-trained eyes. Had Jon not been adept in the ways of shadow, he might have chalked it up to a trick of the light, perhaps a strange combination of effects between the lightning outside and the fire, or maybe his own tired mind.
For better or worse, he was knowledgeable in such matters. He knew better than to think it was just a trick of the light.
"Your timing is excellent, although I suspect that is not accidental." Jon brought her to the makeshift workshop, where the pile of silver-laced weapons was neatly stacked, awaiting blessing. "I have never seen the Tidesages consecrate a weapon, so I was not sure as to what materials you might need. Please, tell me what is needful before we begin, and I will see it done swiftly, for time and tide wait for no one."
"Indeed." She smiled slightly, her fingers tracing the inlay, "I have brought most of what is needed. I just need to know, are these made of storm silver or conventional steel?"
"Conventional steel. We didn't have time to gather such quantities of storm silver."
She hummed a dissonant tone of disappointment, "Very well. I can not guarantee how well the blessing will take hold without it, but tide willing, it will grant you the boon you seek regardless. Get me a pitcher, and a something that can hold water. The bigger the better."
Jon nodded. "In anticipation of the need, I took the liberty of obtaining a quantity of sea water." Jon pointed at the 31-gallon former beer barrel in the corner of the workshop."Filled yesterday with fresh sea water."
Jon had purchased the empty barrel and then paid street urchins silver to carry bucket after bucket of seawater from the pier until the barrel was full to the brim. He had an excellent relationship with the street urchins nearby, as he had made a habit of being liberal with his cheeses, with the result that the street urchins had become quite protective of "the Cheese Man", self-interest being what it was.
Her smile widened, "It is good to see your reputation is not unfounded. Bring the weapons to the barrel."
Sister Cordelia picked up the lantern that had not been moved from where Jon previously left it. The metal of the lantern was sturdy but ornately decorated in swirls and wave-like patterns, with the pieces framing shards of un-uniform, green tinted glass that was smooth to the touch. These shards made up not only main lantern but some crystalline shaped ones that dangled from the bottom and sides on delicate links. This glass was not made in any shop but combed off of the beaches in Stormsong, naturally produced by the sea herself. Years of rolling and tumbling pieces of broken bottles, broken tableware, or even shipwrecks had rounded off all of the edges, and the slickness of the glass has been sanded down to a frosted appearance.
The metal framing was of course made of storm-silver, a metal famous for being resistant to corrosion, and thus the preferred material for shipbuilding and the smithing of weapons and armor by both Kul Tirans and the Zandalari. Sailors and pirates alike swore by the metal, being also light-weight enough that one could still swim while wearing armor made from the material. Rumor even held that the naga used storm silver in some of their weapons because of its strength. Normally, after the Tidepriest's blessed the ore, they would it bury under the water for a year, letting the magic take hold completely before it was uncovered and shaped into whatever was required. Unfortunately not having that kind of time, and the weapons not being made of storm silver, this standard would have to be adapted to circumstance.
"This will have to be done with some element of speed. I will add this sand here to mimic the sea floor," She pulled out a large jar of sand from her bag, and placed it on the ground, "Then I will bless the waters, and two at a time I will dip the swords into the barrel, and hand them to you. I understand that they must be cleaned and oiled to maintain their integrity, but I advise that you let the water sit for as long as you can. Any questions?"
"How long must the water stay on the blade before I clean it away?" asked Jon curiously. The corrosion of salt water on steel was well-known and the care of weapons at or near the sea was constant maintenance labor.
The Tidepriests paused, her fingers playing in the water. Her eyes were studying the water's surface intently, "... some six hours should be enough...Yes, that should be fine."
"And after that, there is nothing to do but clean them and ship them?" Jon could use the time to create leather scabbards for each blade, another detail often over-looked by weaponsmiths.
"Correct. That will be all."
"Very good, Sister. When would you like to begin?" asked Jon.
"If you don't have any objections, now will suffice." answered the Sister, as she lit the lantern and hung it up to provide them with light for the work ahead.
So focused on his work, Jon had not noticed the rainstorm that had set in until he opened the door. Sister Cordelia stood there, hand still in the motion of knocking, with a polite but expectant smile on her face. She was soaked to the bone, her robes, and hair heavy with the extra water.
"Mr. Chess, I am pleased to hear of your success." Her voice raised to be heard over a crack of lightning and roar of thunder.
Jon stepped back, opening the door widely.
"And may I ask from whom you heard of my success?" He asked, not expecting an answer that would make sense to him; Jon had long ago come to the conclusion that many of the Tidesages were accustomed to listening to unseen voices.
The Tidesage just pointed upward, "The depths whispered it in my ear as the storm came in, having heard it from the rain as it fell into the streams and rivers as they themselves followed the current's flow back to the Tidemother's embrace. As I said before; Everything - eventually - flows back to the sea."
Jon smirked. Precisely the sort of answer he had anticipated. "Of course. " Jon went and gathered the books and lantern for the Tidesage. "These are for you, Sister Cordelia. No humans were hurt in the retrieval of the items."
"They are not human, but your commitment is praiseworthy nonetheless." Cordelia picked up the books, inspecting them carefully for damage before wrapping them like one would a newborn in watertight oilskin, then tucking them into a bag made of the same material. She then picked up a set of scrolls, the ones Jon knew to be named "Tales of Ny'alotha", and in one fluid motion cast them into the fire, the dry paper nothing more than parched pine needles to the roaring blaze, which disintegrated the text in a flash. Cordelia's eyes never left the flames until they were wholly consumed. The room was dark, given the hour, yet the shadows seemed to grow darker and darker still until Jon was forced to turned his head to study this phenomenon. The room was the same as it had ever been. Nothing was moved, no other individual could be detected with his well-trained eyes. Had Jon not been adept in the ways of shadow, he might have chalked it up to a trick of the light, perhaps a strange combination of effects between the lightning outside and the fire, or maybe his own tired mind.
For better or worse, he was knowledgeable in such matters. He knew better than to think it was just a trick of the light.
"Your timing is excellent, although I suspect that is not accidental." Jon brought her to the makeshift workshop, where the pile of silver-laced weapons was neatly stacked, awaiting blessing. "I have never seen the Tidesages consecrate a weapon, so I was not sure as to what materials you might need. Please, tell me what is needful before we begin, and I will see it done swiftly, for time and tide wait for no one."
"Indeed." She smiled slightly, her fingers tracing the inlay, "I have brought most of what is needed. I just need to know, are these made of storm silver or conventional steel?"
"Conventional steel. We didn't have time to gather such quantities of storm silver."
She hummed a dissonant tone of disappointment, "Very well. I can not guarantee how well the blessing will take hold without it, but tide willing, it will grant you the boon you seek regardless. Get me a pitcher, and a something that can hold water. The bigger the better."
Jon nodded. "In anticipation of the need, I took the liberty of obtaining a quantity of sea water." Jon pointed at the 31-gallon former beer barrel in the corner of the workshop."Filled yesterday with fresh sea water."
Jon had purchased the empty barrel and then paid street urchins silver to carry bucket after bucket of seawater from the pier until the barrel was full to the brim. He had an excellent relationship with the street urchins nearby, as he had made a habit of being liberal with his cheeses, with the result that the street urchins had become quite protective of "the Cheese Man", self-interest being what it was.
Her smile widened, "It is good to see your reputation is not unfounded. Bring the weapons to the barrel."
Sister Cordelia picked up the lantern that had not been moved from where Jon previously left it. The metal of the lantern was sturdy but ornately decorated in swirls and wave-like patterns, with the pieces framing shards of un-uniform, green tinted glass that was smooth to the touch. These shards made up not only main lantern but some crystalline shaped ones that dangled from the bottom and sides on delicate links. This glass was not made in any shop but combed off of the beaches in Stormsong, naturally produced by the sea herself. Years of rolling and tumbling pieces of broken bottles, broken tableware, or even shipwrecks had rounded off all of the edges, and the slickness of the glass has been sanded down to a frosted appearance.
The metal framing was of course made of storm-silver, a metal famous for being resistant to corrosion, and thus the preferred material for shipbuilding and the smithing of weapons and armor by both Kul Tirans and the Zandalari. Sailors and pirates alike swore by the metal, being also light-weight enough that one could still swim while wearing armor made from the material. Rumor even held that the naga used storm silver in some of their weapons because of its strength. Normally, after the Tidepriest's blessed the ore, they would it bury under the water for a year, letting the magic take hold completely before it was uncovered and shaped into whatever was required. Unfortunately not having that kind of time, and the weapons not being made of storm silver, this standard would have to be adapted to circumstance.
"This will have to be done with some element of speed. I will add this sand here to mimic the sea floor," She pulled out a large jar of sand from her bag, and placed it on the ground, "Then I will bless the waters, and two at a time I will dip the swords into the barrel, and hand them to you. I understand that they must be cleaned and oiled to maintain their integrity, but I advise that you let the water sit for as long as you can. Any questions?"
"How long must the water stay on the blade before I clean it away?" asked Jon curiously. The corrosion of salt water on steel was well-known and the care of weapons at or near the sea was constant maintenance labor.
The Tidepriests paused, her fingers playing in the water. Her eyes were studying the water's surface intently, "... some six hours should be enough...Yes, that should be fine."
"And after that, there is nothing to do but clean them and ship them?" Jon could use the time to create leather scabbards for each blade, another detail often over-looked by weaponsmiths.
"Correct. That will be all."
"Very good, Sister. When would you like to begin?" asked Jon.
"If you don't have any objections, now will suffice." answered the Sister, as she lit the lantern and hung it up to provide them with light for the work ahead.
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